On the Black

[tectak]

On the Black

Blasted fortunes flung to perish, static cracks the skies
where suns and sons quick wagers struck;
gauntled by whirling wheels, un-slapped cheeks
so red, through spoke-blurred numbers;
Black comes the passion of wild excess.

Turn again, the wheel, the cheek;
Turn again.

Lofted by a streak called luck and dashed a million times
Like sailors berthed in china town, stuffed by need
To burn the bridge; no returns means no return.
Call it whilst the risk is high, call win loud and whisper loss,
Black feeds the passion of wild excess.

Turn again, the wheel, the cheek;
Turn again.

Crushed companions waft in silk, their perfume in the smoke;
Loved up by Cuban dollared dudes, Havanna, (that can’t be her name)
Slides slippery and oozing need; some call it want, some call it greed.
With gloss red claws on beige she helps him count and smiles.
How black the passion of wild excess…

Turn again, the wheel, the cheek;
Turn again.

Unfettered by the baying block, the jury to his trial,
Havannah slips into his space, alive with moments dripped in sweat;
cool trepidation, strange they met, not speaking yet so close,
so soon; a spin between two sheets, and a proposition made.
So black the passion of wild excess….

Turn again, the wheel, the cheek;
Turn again.

Fortune smiles and leaves the room, no one sees her go.
The wheel, disturbed by butterflies wings, randomly proceeds.
The system lurches back and forth in evens, odds and highs.
Gauntlets gone, the suns will set, the wagers whisky drowned.
Black turns the passion of wild excess.

Please turn once more, the wheel, the cheek;
Turn again.

Havannah rises, walks away, back into smoking night.
She turns again, the wheel is still, her lingered lust declines.
He looks her way; she stops, but sees the empty beggar’s hands
Her smile has changed to match the loss, to crush him into dust
Black is the passion of wild excess.

Tectak
2012

Nice alliteration. This reminds me of the earthquake one in terms of form, although this one seems not quite as tight, and a bit forced here and there. Overall it rode along nicely and even the repetition didn't really bother me.

I like this phrase "stuffed by need"

This sounds like something that is often said, yet I have never heard it.

" call win loud and whisper loss"
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You start losing me here a little

"Crushed companions waft in silk, their perfume in the smoke;
Loved up by Cuban dollared dudes, Havanna, (that can’t be her name)"

This seems to refer to something you have not set up. Where did these crushed companions come from? Whose companions are they? I suppose they must be Havana's but you have not even mentioned her at this point.
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The imagery carried me for a fair ways, but at the end I felt let down as there was nothing more ...profound!

Dale

Well hello Dale. Good to hear from you. This piece began as a spoof antidote to one who wrote on this site " I like to be unclear so that the reader can make whatever they (if more than one reads it!) want if it" Hmmmm!
Anyway, the bloody muse got in on the scam and this is the result of the battle. It is a casino. The "companions" are the girls paid to accompany the wealthy gamblers, especially at the roulette wheel. The are "crushed" because they insert themselves between the players. The chinese are inveterate gamblers. Most casinos have a high proportion of early doors chinese businessmen and in port towns, sailors--set to increase--and a code if honour prevents them returning to ship unles they have made good returns.
"Call win loud and whisper loss" is the psycho-tech method employed on fruit machines when the win is accompanied by chugging and sirens,whistles and flutes.......but losses make no noise at all.
Havanna is just one of the companions who inserts herself beside our man and shares in his joy of accumulation. He suggests a little exercise in his room after the play. He is on a roll. She agrees. But then his luck changes as lady luck leaves the room. She departs and leaves him. He has lost everything bla blah blah.
The first stanza was just nonsense and this is what can happen to poetry when you are not looking. Of course, if you want to interprate the piece entirely differently, then that's fine to.
Best.