"checker" poems
A whole new spiral,
Trees upon a coil,
Ink from leagues,
Written feathers,
Drizzled down as oil,
Evermore,
Nevermore,
Less is more,
All.
Reverse inside-out,
Springs before fall,
Trojan powered horses,
Mother Nature's fickle,
In life we really are all,
Trapped within a pickle...
Steal the base,
Capture the flag,
Always run the risk,
Chess played on a checker board,
Hands turned into fists...
The endless stairs,
Rise & fall,
Chutes & ladders,
Poles,
Elevated,
Reciprocated,
Orbital magnetic pull...
This way,
That way,
Three rights make a left,
Two of either,
Horizontal shift,
Four times,
Stuck in circles...
Full Moon,
Half Moon,
Crescent Moon,
**** cheeks...
Face cheeks,
Two lips,
Uranus,
**** facts...
The Owl asks "Who?"
Not how many licks,
Cracked.
Tongue twister,
Riddle fister,
******* fcking dcks...
Creation.
Destruction.
Under construction,
Living life,
Chasing death,
Don't forget to function...
Playing hooky,
Hooked on phonics,
Telephone,
Hello?
Lose the "O",
Cheerios,
Rolled away,
Hell.
Pacific Bell,
Pack Bell,
Liberty Bell,
Cracked.
Xs,
Os,
Hugs,
Kisses,
Followed crumbs,
Smacked...
Cacophony of words,
Magnified to deaf,
Pantomime,
Mr. Mime,
Jynx,
Hypnotic crest...
Abra,
Kadabra,
Apply directly to the forehead...
Water your brain,
Fertilize,
Extra fries,
Exercise...
A to Z,
1, 2, 3...
F*cking A,
We say...
Today is here,
The end is near,
All come here to stay...
Escape rope untethered,
Weather altered sky day.
Gaze at stars,
Hollywood floor,
Rich,
Poor,
More...
Life is great,
Life is crap,
You decide,
Not me...
Cause all I see,
Is cacophony...
No sense inside of "we"...
Here we are,
We've come so far,
RELAX...
Have fun at last...
Half full,
Half empty,
Shattered...
At least we have the glass......
Sep 1, 2018
Sep 1, 2018 at 5:28 PM UTC
Ko Ko to Go Go
a prelude to a kiss
dance with Chubby Checker
lift a slo gin fizz
Head bobs to Be Bop
flip the B Side now
mellowtune in monotone
two ears for stereo wow!
Wonderment of Duke and Miles
swinging kool birthin boplicity
urban crush the hipsters rush
jazz joints cross the city
Firery sax emote a clash
strain ears of credulity
Lester leaps creative heat
nips harden on my *******
Max taps exotic wax
Django's quick pickin
finger snaps flip my lid
lips deliciously sippin
Eurozone a Zen zone
a blue infinitive smokin
big peeps dig don pink wigs
fat spliffs hot token
My new suede shoes
walks west end blues
Pop's cornet got me tippin
his open blast first to last
I like cornbread, barbecue
and fine home jazz cookin
jbm
Oakland
3/12/10
Nov 6, 2011
Nov 6, 2011 at 6:41 PM UTC
White picket fences
Four family houses
Checker pattern apron
Pie left to cool on the windowsill
Watching Andy Griffith
Paying some old television bills and hoping the kids will notice
Anything but the coldness that lies outside the front porch
The one with the swing
This is the American dream
Not really knowing what "minority" means
Fighting for a penny to put in a candy machine
"Oh, where did it go?" Some people ask
As if corruption was a thing of the past
Apr 16, 2015
Apr 16, 2015 at 10:22 PM UTC
I hovered down my cursor
Towards the Facebook icon
My senses were in fervor
For one notification.
I clicked the drop down button
That was drenched in crimson red
My mind had an implosion
As I decoded what it said.
Someone sent a game request
To me when time was lush
My day embarks another quest
In the game of candy crush.
A ticket, life, or power-up
Could be the thing I need
To clear the way and reach the top
And in the ranks I'll lead.
A move that swaps a jelly bean
Perhaps could form an "L"
A wrapper bomb then could be seen
Explosion it would spell.
Maybe an orange lozenge
Could pile in lines of four
A striped bomb could come in revenge
And wipe out lanes for score.
A bunch of yellow lemon drops
I'll surely link to five
In time a color bomb would pop
And clear the candy hive.
Heaps of lollipop heads in blue
And purple cluster sweets
Could get swept out in a row or two
By coco wheels or jelly fish.
How lovely it would be to see
A medley of combination
Bombs and power-ups in spree
To a rainbow candy motion.
Two wrapper bombs would be enough
To blast two groupings clean
Two striped ones make a checker stuff
Where blocks have ever been.
A wrapper and a color bomb
Blast off a certain hue
A color bomb and a stripe in clump
Stripe out some colors too.
Perhaps of all the tricks I've seen
The one that serves me great
A duo of color bombs would mean
The end of all the slate.
The sun may rise, the moon may set
I'll be there to sit and play
A sweet treat is all I need to get
And I'll complete my day.
Jun 12, 2013
Jun 12, 2013 at 9:09 AM UTC
When I slumber I dream in color of a meadow by a brook
a sweet bird on a branch of a tree so tall it kisses the sun
in a sky of vivid blues, red, yellow and a hint of orange
listening to the birds sing about the flowers in bloom
attracting butterfly and nectar seeking humming birds
who fly near the place where I prepared a picnic for two.
Drift off to sleep my love
meet me in our meadow of dreams
A blanket spread
classic colors of checker board squares
with a picnic basket of wicker
two wine glasses for the laughter
of sparkling bubbles, we share.
Slowly falling
you glide on angels wings
in the distant horizon
next to the mountain of our desires
walking now
ever closer
stopping to sniff the aroma
of flowers grown by our mother nature
deeply in love with life
stepping on the moss of a fields shadow
your memory imprints a visit.
Our hands reach
and touch, fingers intertwined
feeling the warmth of together
as our eyes met with a look of content
our bodies drawing closer
we feel the purpose of meeting
from across the distant miles
a connection.
A summer rain softly falling
we dance
spinning
hands holding
until we fall together on the checkered blanket
laying together we make pictures from clouds
and speak of love everlasting
peanut-butter and jelly
a favorite.
Making plans for the coming days
when the Pacific ocean turns into a field
of green clover
and on the day
we picnic
and make love under the stars
in the meadow where we first met...
Looking into the mirror... as the story unfolds...
Sep 17, 2015
Sep 17, 2015 at 12:54 PM UTC
He was five or six when he first challenged her
To play a game of checkers.
Fresh-faced and eager from battles with friends,
Young master of jumping and double-jumping,
Connoisseur of cornering and kinging.
Ready to wreak havoc on his grandmother,
A simple farm wife, unskilled in the battle of the board.
He didn't contemplate that the checker set
In the old farm house was hers....
Their battles raged,
Sometimes every day,
With, "Want to play again?"
His constant question.
I would watch her lose,
Seeing what my little boy,
The often conqueror,
Could not see in victorious glee.
Twenty-five years later,
We sit again at the old farm table,
And the two are pitted in their checkers game;
The same, but wearied box waiting
While the battle rages on the old scarred board.
Her hand, uncertain, moves the pieces slowly
As though she is off somewhere thinking,
And he, now patient, waits in a treasured time,
For her to contemplate and make her moves.
He is twenty-nine, and she is eighty-nine,
And though the opportunities rise,
Through my misty eyes,
I see my son, pulling punches.
Nov 7, 2016
Nov 7, 2016 at 1:46 PM UTC
Were they thinking
That you can get some good news about this one
is
A blossom
a blossom
intrinsically linked to
tree roots trunks - petals -
with or without you?
Were you
You
Remembered
Passing your past
Where the - within'you
becomes more difficult than the one you can see
Wraped gently around
Aroused
Whenever you're ready for I
Am not sure about glances
Why or how or when
Could've found and lost impossibility
To bond deeper than thou
Fa~Do
Cream
Sounds
Beautifully lurking around
Any corner of this honey dew
Dripping on every
Sweet corner of this
Earth ~ molasess and maple
Pancakes ~ perfectly
Aligning
With another
Sunrise
Seemen home toasted
Creamy Cheese
Wee
Bee's
Busy
Pollen
How To Bow Properly?
To awareness~ To automatically repaired
Spell checker's wicked authority
Abundant celebration
As passing days
Crowning
Drowning
Feasting
Days
Crafting
Themself
Into
The last invisible
Youthful
Appearance of the darkling
Fireflies Beaming
Devotion
I
To stars up above ~
Many times un~authorised
Molders of our dreams;
Sky high and heavens
White blue sync with
Ebony and Ivory
Feb 8, 2016
Feb 8, 2016 at 2:41 PM UTC
In this age of technology
And auto spell checker,
Is it too much to ask for
In this HePo commune?
There really is no excuse I’m sure,
To come a cropper
With _your_ and _you’re_.
Possession or identity?
Am I alone
In my frustrating annoyance
At this growing misdemeanour?
So much so I move on
Without even a Like,
For there’s nothing to see,
That makes any sense.
Are you guilty?
A grammar snob too?
Or is it.... just me?
Mar 29, 2021
Mar 29, 2021 at 7:57 AM UTC
Puking on a vest made of argyle
Passing out on kitchen tile
A checker board mattress after
Chatting with a girl, whose *** is fantastic
She's hotter than struck matchsticks
Playing chess with her chest
Moves are nothing short of the best
You can pull on 3 leaf clovers
But you can't push your luck
King me, Crown me, Get royally ******
I've got the wood she's got the chuck
How much?
Bedside Manner is enough
But she'd rather talk about being stuck like cassettes
With a useless boyfriend
And a ton of financial debt
Had I mentioned this was turning into a drag
Minus the cigarette
The size of a rolled telegram and gazette
Has it become clear yet
*I'm not looking at you
I'm looking past you*
Transparent
Like a ghost
It's apparent
I'm into you like a foreign host
It's hard to tell
When the air is hazy
She's blind to the fact
Like her eye is lazy
Choked on words that she never learned to chew
Why don't you call Sherlock, boo
Get yourself a Clue
Feb 6, 2012
Feb 6, 2012 at 11:07 PM UTC
Wriggled and wrapped in our safety suits
The Man tells us the sea is ten degrees
The Man wants his cargo to be safe
The Man wants us to come back
Single file managed carefully
A Man directs us to the tarmac
The big, birds, blades, beat
Secured, we hover lightly
Quick check, Straight up
Tiny farms with tiny fields
Checker an industrious quilt
Stone is torn from a quarry
For homes of busy people
A road rests on the countryside
A ribbon on a patchwork blanket
Houses embroider the hills
Where families pay their bills
Crawling along paved threads
Creatures scurry passed a hospital
With more important things ahead
First day back to school
Rush hour, late for work
We soar above the little land
And hold the blanket in our hand
The mansions acres sheared and preened
Sit pretty next to factory steam
From here the mansions just as small
From here the graveyard’s twice as tall
Hugging coast we close our eyes
The stuffing from the covered skies
Descends around our whirly bird
And only flutter can be heard
And from the window only sea
Until we reach our island, sleep.
Jun 22, 2010
Jun 22, 2010 at 1:11 AM UTC
Peanut sized brain
dumb people who **** in
public and lie about it.
People writing poems taking
cheap shots at people writing
big words and long poems.
People writing they don't like poems
using big words are dumb ones
who don't understand the big words.
Hows about I buy you a thesaurus
so you can look em up.
Hows about I buy you a dictionary
or you use a spell checker.
People who take low freaking blows
are jealous of ones using big words.
I'm 18, I'm entitled to write poems
slamming people who are jealous
of people who write long poems
with big words because they
don't know what the words mean.
Dec 5, 2013
Dec 5, 2013 at 4:13 AM UTC
the sky lightens gradually
as if from nowhere, as if someone
in the sky is slowly rising,
blinking sleep from his eyes
and sitting lazily up onto his elbow,
casually ********* the brightness slider
on the universe as if he's done it
every day, he must have.
before the pink can hit it the checker
pattern of clouds fades away,
promising a casually clear blue
day but this one is more
personal now, his gift to me,
because on the concrete looking up
i can see the sun before it rises,
i know what it's like to wake
with the sun there on the other
side of the bed, to see her slowly
blinking the stars from her skies.
yawning, stretching, morning breath,
to see her rolling up her sleeves
and tying back her hair
and scattering her dreams of death
with a shake of her tired head.
and yet even before she is fully awake
she is so radiant.
the moon, shooting stars, even the perseids
step back to let her shine.
i feel as though when the sun
hides behind storms some days,
each day i will know why.
Aug 20, 2015
Aug 20, 2015 at 7:57 PM UTC
I stagger cold through the halls of my indoctrination.
I do not wish to be seen.
A thousand ******* eye's gawk silent from there checker pattern perches
and my chains and prizes jingle
and attract stares
with each bounding step.
I can no longer stand my hours in this house of heresy.
Loose lipped **** lovers
spill secrets over bile chowder
chuckling about a days delicacies
and social secrets.
Second rate at best,
they all know there lover boy on the Hollister bag
probably takes it in the *** more than the average ***
and still they swoon blind batty eyed at the queens that prance the halls.
I am unamused
Feel abused
giving out my finest hobby to any takers.
I'm being used.
How am i supposed to taste my death sweet and smokey at this rate.
Like some fluff tailed hair
I hustle off with my ticking life in toe
the numbers at my waste spell ruin.
I'm late.
I'm late.
If only I had some red haired queen of hearts
to behead me.
A better fate.
Jan 29, 2013
Jan 29, 2013 at 11:08 PM UTC
It's not as easy as you think
It's really one big scare.
They'll tell you what you want to hear
In hopes that you don't care.
"We're not that dumb-
At least, I'm not.
Nice try, you get me here."
But listen, man, I understand
Sit down, let's share a beer.
Let me explain- I know it all
You can't hide from me anymore
And, actually, you know the truth
Their opinions make you sore.
Not only do they say it
They marinade it- give it a coat
They cook it up all nice and sweet
Before they shove it down your throat.
You have no thoughts
You're not you're own
You're the checker in their game
Let's show them who we really are
Let's show them why we came.
Secretly, they fight to lose
And they've never really won
But have you since been listening?
They don't talk just for fun.
See, they don't wrap it up
They strive to keep you waiting
Don't worry, son, it's not your fault
It's all part of their training.
Armies are built, families- lost
They've planned it all along
They know just what they're doing
And you must decide who's boss.
Which commander do you follow?
Is it freedom, is it lies?
Have you seen under that pretty mask?
Have you seen through their disguise?
It's time to fight- the war is on
The gear and armor ready
Pick your side, just take your time
We're here and holding steady.
So it's your choice,
You've got it all-
Fight or stay at home
Just remember what they've done to you
Let's make our presence known.
May 2, 2013
May 2, 2013 at 7:04 PM UTC
as the sun filters through the trees & I whip past them, eyes closed but still seeing; flashing kaleidoscope fractals, alternating milliseconds of red & yellow & blacks & white. swirling oval ripples; am I looking up at or down upon the surface? checkerboards & squiggling bubble worms. between the seizure warnings & REM flickers, there is this unblinking eye, staring me down. my dad thinks I'm a seer. I see this cemetery, a church to the left. rolling fields of blueberries redwhiteblacknyellow a white cross, an arrow on the eastern arm. I stare down at my feet in the water. so I'm above the surface then - wait, those aren't my feet; they're much too slender. a close up: the southern corner of the cemetery. I have never been here before. a giant, passionate waterfall healthy forest surrounding it. My dad thinks I've dropped acid. a close up: the church. I have never been here before. how am I seeing this? swirls. ripples. checker boards. puzzle pieces. blueberry hills. trees trees trees churches cemeteries & those long slender white feet.
where the hell am I?
Nov 26, 2013
Nov 26, 2013 at 9:53 PM UTC
placing all our trust in
a little metal box tumbling through the air
looking down on
farmers' fields like checker pieces
huge rivers winding like sunken paths
through sandbox terrain
and glare from the sun shields
terrible mountains
slowly sinking back in jealousy
as we touch an even higher sky
layer upon layer of grey curtain
eventually folds back on itself
to reveal an even greater expanse
of tiny shiny buildings
grids upon grids of humanity
cutting through the planet's skin
leaving tattoos of asphalt
only the sky-dwellers can see
relying on cotton clouds
relying on the breath of the atmosphere
with a soft blow, we're pushed
straight across the sky
Jun 18, 2013
Jun 18, 2013 at 11:04 PM UTC
of which
is humor
and of
which is
life
that our
dry mouths
gape
at the beauty
of death?
old princesses
and young
hobgoblins
will
laugh at
our
naiveté
that imitates
picnic blankets
and checker boards.
"Many perished
precisely
because
they were young
and beautiful."
Andre Breton
laughs
with our age
and our age
laughs
at time
and time laughs
at half
played grand pianos
and full moons
and they laugh
at our fingers
which fumble
at life
and life
fumbles through
humor.
of which is humor
and of
which is life
we wonder
as water clogged
ears strain to
hear.
or listen?
Feb 24, 2014
Feb 24, 2014 at 12:55 PM UTC
Substance.
Heft. volume and mass.
Volume without value.
Being light in the ***
Barking without teeth.
Gravitas.
Bite. weight and kick.
All talk.All yap all ***** No ****
Mutha-fuckas today are sick
with it.
A man's word is nothing but air.
Lie to your face as if that is a virtue.
Get stuff all distorted as they twist you and hurt you.
Microphone checker.
No I'm not really mad. Just stretching out.
Anyway,back to the grind.
With your feelings these fellows are quite cavalier
as they muddy the waters and make things unclear.
Word is bond. Really like James Bond? WORD ?.
My word is my bond. We can trade on it.
My word is my life. The one thing you cant have.
Meaning and substance.
Values and core.
Fools take that today like a license to steal.
A big Lollipop a sucker Who dont know the deal.
Veracity.
Virtue.
brings
Vindication always.
Nov 18, 2012
Nov 18, 2012 at 1:38 AM UTC
Discovered I forgot to post this on HP
Mar 25. 2010
Tony Boy – Chapter 2
A few weeks ago Tony was standing in the door way and said, “Grandpa?: Yes. “Grandpas need grandkids so they won’t get bored.” He is correct in that assumption since there is not a day that some surprise doesn’t pop up. I won’t be dying from boredom any time soon. I have been retired three years now and boredom is not a problem.
We were checking out at Target the other day and the checker and Tony was having a great conversation. As we were leaving, he turned around and said to the checker, “You are missing a tooth. You know that if you put it under your pillow, you can get some money for it from the tooth fairy.” The checker and the people in line were having a chuckle. Me, I laughed all the way to the car. When we got in the car he was questioning me as to why I was laughing. Oh, I just saw something funny.
Today (03/17/2010) we were in Costco foraging about 2:30. It is a great way to pass some time together. The food tables were set up and we had hit the ravioli stuff a couple of times already. The lady running it said one time she had noticed us coming in since he was in a stroller. Anyway, Tony headed back to get another sample and she was talking to a friend. As I rounded the corner Tony was talking to the friend. She was asking him how old he was. “Four.” At which she said, “You are smarter than my 15 year old.”
Tony is 5 today (3/24) A lot of people know his name. Me? Oh I am just Tony’s grandpa. A few weeks back we were in Sears to visit one of his many “friends”. Tammie was not available at the moment and we were wandering around looking at TVs. A fellow was down on his knees putting together a new display. Tony walked up to him and ask, “Do you know what you are doing?” The guy looked rather surprised and then the two got into a discussion of what tools to use. Tony told him about all the tools he has and what should be used on the job. Along came the usual question people ask Tony. “How old are you?” “I am four.” I heard the guy telling some of his fellow workers about being ask if he know what he was doing. They all had a good laugh together. We found Tammie and Tony got picked up and a BIG hug. Most of the people working in the electronics and appliance department know all about the little boy named Tony Boy. It is interesting to see their faces light up when Tony comes around the corner.
Jun 17, 2015
Jun 17, 2015 at 7:52 PM UTC
haggard and black eye circled,
I stood before her,
(in the special silence of the shocked
"I can't believe what I'm seeing")
The Goddess Witch of the Bathroom Magic Mirror,
in my awoken normal deplorable e-state,
taking a poll of the the toll
the working years had blessed me with,
crow's feet nests, red eye eggs, and forehead furrows
colloquially called the Mississip-pis,
saggy used as a compliment,
rotunda my unsupine fecund shape,
as in,
"what a nice generous cowling^ you have!"
a nose that looked clown-borrowed and improperly affixed,
looking like the wreckage of a ship
that accidentally crashed
into a harmless oil tanker
a three-times-my-size destroyer
named Life
the bathroom mirror looked upon me
with haughty askance,
imputing and impugning my
raggedy Andy human exterior,
until it at last
laughed so hard,
it cracked into a 1000 pieces
as shards bloodied my hands
and now, in addition,
checker-boarded my scraggled unshaven cheeks,
a voice from the bedroom screeched:
*did you ask again the mirror
who's the fairest
in all the land
*********
Warned you,
she hates when you take
advantage of her,
with your white male privilege,
calling her,
**The Goddess ***** of the Bathroom Magic Mirror**
clearly a simple case of mistaken identity,
upon looking in the mirror at myself
all I growled was
***"you one ugly pasty white son of a *****
<•>
8-22-17
1:11am
Aug 22, 2017
Aug 22, 2017 at 1:50 AM UTC
The rotting walls,
The warped floors,
The cracked wood that makes up all of the doors.
Do you remember when this place used to be so bright?
When we still ate dinner at the table most nights?
Blanket forts and puzzle glue,
I always said my best friend was you.
I was your checker queen,
You were my everything.
We took rides to the liquor store,
The smell now will always remind me
Of my childhood.
These types of field trips never ended the way I wished they would,
With your nose pressed against a cut straw in your friends ***** apartment,
Maybe you hoped that I would never remember it.
I used to pray to a God I was too young to believe in that you wouldn't crash the car when you were high on oxy.
Whispering to myself
"Oh god, please."
You would get so close to the cars on the side of the road and I would just keep praying that we would make it home.
Then, after mom died i picked up your bad habits.
I would drink and drive in hopes that I would die.
Id get to close to the cars on the side of the road while praying to a God I still don't believe in that I wouldn't make it home.
But I did.
Every time.
To the rotting walls,
The warped floors,
The cracked wood that makes up all of the doors.
Why is it so hard to remember when this place used to be bright?
I cant even imagine a dinner at the table most nights.
Apr 23, 2015
Apr 23, 2015 at 1:38 PM UTC
Hello world
(coughs)
Tell me something
(clears throat)
Afraid of a little cold?
Tell 'em I'm not affected
Squeeze the checker harder
37 and going down temp.
No Sir, no admission now
Yet the whole squad passes through
Let my normal fever in
I assure no one will be sick tomorrow
(sneezes)
Emergency evacuation!
Residents, clear the floor
Nurses coming through
Catch a small fever with cold
We won't let your sick *** in here
Let go, it's obvious
Death is not painless, Sir
Nov 3, 2020
Nov 3, 2020 at 1:41 AM UTC
Checker-boarding across countries,
I tuck my loneliness into my suitcase,
Neatly fold her between a cardigan and khakis,
Thinking that maybe if I’m lucky,
She’ll follow suit of my favorite sweater,
Last pictured in Lima,
And get lost.
Aug 20, 2013
Aug 20, 2013 at 11:39 PM UTC
I held the elevator door open for an elderly couple today
In their mid 80's I would say...
so very cute in so many ways.
The man was wearing a red checker hat...
and she wore blue eyes like a beautiful cat...
I wondered what secrets they could tell me
that kept them going so happily.
He steadied her gently with his right arm
protecting her safely from falling, or harm...
guiding her thoughtfully
through the door
he limped along..his leg looked sore.
I stood alone inside my thoughts...
pondering their love
that can't be bought.
(Ding)
Went the door
I watched them float by
a moment
that made me
let out a sigh...
as he wrapped her sweater around her soft shoulders
to protect from getting any colder
and the two glided down
a cobblestone path
each one careful
not to miss
a step...
and all the secrets they've ever kept
for their kind of love
throughout the years
and all the tears...
they've ever wept.
Jun 28, 2013
Jun 28, 2013 at 2:36 PM UTC