He became an ogre when his luck was on the line;
His mistress left him, his con business went under.
He beat his wife for stress relief six times.
Too drunk to beat her one more time,
He’d planned a seventh attack the next day.
He never got the chance, his wife beat him to it;
She stabbed him to death in the back sixty times.
And that was the celebrated end
Of the Con King, Diamonds Jack.
Bob Boyd
Author: BobBoyd
Age 80. Cancer survivor since 3 years ago. Work out 3 times a week. Ride my exercise bike 2 hours a day. Live a solo reclusive life. Retired a year ago from working with the elderly in a nonprofit. Started writing poetry a little over a year ago; most poems I write are fictional but some are not. Spiritual with a permanent spiritual experience. Write poems on many subjects. Always researching for many of my poems and because of my unquenchable thirst for knowledge. After reading and hearing about many near death experiences and death bed visions, I believe death is the ultimate awakening and the relocation of a lifetime. You may believe differently, but you have the right to be wrong -- I'm just messing with you. :-)
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