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John McCafferty Nov 2020
The hour of the wolf calls
Cool dark sharp but calm
No moonlight howl or cry
Head down and focused frown

Pawns are pushed into place
The risks we trust to take
With good faith in calculus
These gods are among us

Energetic plight flickers
Spattered anger flouts
Dilated rage with white teeth out
To think beyond aloud
Funny how the face of a clown
can quickly change it's mouth
(@PoeticTetra - instagram/twitter)
Mya Sep 2018
When I am sleeping
I am the queen
Of all the land
And all the people are my pawns
My king does not exist
Merely just something the people have made up in their thoughts
This here is my land
And only mine
I will not let the negative views of the conscious world
This is my cotton candy and marshmallow
Where there are no adults to order me around
When I am here
There are no limits
To what I and my people cannot and can do
Xyns Jun 2018
Grown enough for nicotine
Adult enough to be a feen

Yet too young for THC
Or to pour myself a drink?

Mature enough for a felony
The system to take life from me

Still youth is used against me
Seems it doesn’t matter what I think..
Poetic T Jul 2017
Like a puddle of conciseness I gazed within, I saw something,
not of reality, was this a nightmare in a teacup of reflections?
But as it evaporated I saw that wondering gaze among the
blind effigies that looked into nothingness.

I wondered my view upon the multitudes of shaded white,
what I hadn't seen as my overlook of what was inner most
close to my perceiving. Then I saw it, how did I not envision
this before? Was my gaze swollen with the shallow husks of
those clambering around me. Like an afterimage fleeting.

It was as if it was jumping in shallow puddles, for just a time
not to make waves in a sea of nothingness. For even the slightest
motions collected on the shores of others perceiving.
I was in a chess match, in a board of rookies..
Where those before me once me? I collected myself.

                  "Was I a pawn or another player in a field
                                                  of knights who had fallen,

I was weaving like spider silk, afterimages of where I
had once been. I had become accustom to the intricate
notions of what could and could not be grasped upon.
The blank ones even though of momentary emotions,
when it or they perjured upon them.

Then I noticed, they became more than just chandeliers of  
static light. Emotions were collecting in the corners of what
were vacant sockets of vision. I was no longer alone in this
place of shaded memories. Knowing that they were not of
the purring kitten collections, more of the great white playing
in a kinder garden of seals.

I watched as they consumed each pool, that which was
vacant now fell dissolving into tears of memories fading
beyond there contemplation. But as each painting of
memories was dissolved they were smirking as if they
or it knew I was watching the destruction of their actions.

Knowing what I had seen, I was the knight on a field of
pawns. They were innocence in playground of land mines.
Each step was unconditionally their continuation or the
inevitable disillusion to extinction. My morals were as in
life as in death, never to let harm befall those of needing.

**To Continued in the final part 4
Jon Po Dom Mar 2017
Life is complicated
Full of things unwanted
Stresses never sought
Relations unintended, just created
Feeble beings living scripted
Roles, unaware we are all pawns
In the same game of chess
Sent to die first
So the best can thrive

Life is complicated
Even when it ends

JM 3/6/17
Erin Suurkoivu Nov 2016
Do you see what I see?
We have descended into the belly of the beast.

Houses crowd together, their dead eyes staring out.
They’ve sprung up overnight like

Ugly toadstools.
The machines on the hill are busy

Scraping away the old. By that I mean
What was there before,

A forest naturally,
And putting up these monstrosities instead.

It can’t be let well enough alone.
There are too many people and someone’s got to make a buck.

The world burns down to the filter.
We suffer the fevers of the dry needle people,

And are left with what has been
Torn out from under us.

Some privy chair propped us up with potions.
Dutiful pawns, riding the arcs they have fashioned,

They pay us a small ransom
To cull and sell their wares.

Simple sticks and carrots are not enough to wake us.
The damage thus wrought we pay no mind to –

Subdivisions, shopping malls, parking lots.
There are too many people and someone has to pay.
A "B side".
ThEkInG Feb 2016
I know that i am worthless,
I know that i am just a pawn in their game.
They always look down at me, laughing hysterically as if I was a broken slave, trying to entertain. I try to fit in,
but I can’t truly do that when I am the one they laugh at.
I am the one they hit, the one they break.
I am the one they know will one day come with a knife, ready to strike.
I am the used,
I am the worthless pawn, the one that they send to the enemy,
as they feast on the meat that they have stolen.
I am the abandoned,
the one no one would look twice at.
I know that I am just a pawn in their game,
I know that I am worthless.
And yet,
I stay with them.
Such a worthless pawn.
I have written this for fun, nothing is wrong with me!! :3
Àŧùl Feb 2016
This life is a big chessboard,
You are the only pawn on your side.

It is your call what you be,
You can be any of the many pawns.

Take care what to choose,
You be a pawn star, not a pornstar.
My HP Poem #1016
©Atul Kaushal
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