"chester" poems
A trillion lights in the midnight sky minus one never to be truthfully discovered nor acknowledged ...
Jul 20, 2017
Jul 20, 2017 at 4:17 PM UTC
I've been having disturbing dreams
That make me question reality.
They take me to a place
Beyond comprehension.
I am a criminal, with my
Monkey accomplice, Chester,
Running from an unknown
Enemy, who wants me so badly.
Now I am in a dark place,
And don't know where I am.
All I know is that I'm being
Chased by something, in the dark.
I am now on a dangerous journey
In which my comrades have left me.
Yet I cannot continue as I had
Previously thought I would and could.
These are disturbing dreams
That have made me question reality.
They have taken me to a place
Beyond comprehension.
Apr 1, 2018
Apr 1, 2018 at 11:06 PM UTC
I Need a Titanium hip
My old one is losing its grip
That bone spur brings pain
Whenever it rains
I limp just like Chester and slip
Reserve my Titanium hip!
Sign me up don’t give me no lip
I’m sick of the pain
Driving me insane
Til treated with 4 or 5 nips
I’ve got my Titanium hip!
No longer afraid that I’ll slip
My Doctor-so serious!
But I’m quite delirious!
And green tea is all that I sip...
Feb 27, 2016
Feb 27, 2016 at 2:35 PM UTC
Salamat sa humigit kumulang labin dalawang taon.
Sa pagiging isang alaga,
at mapag-alagang tuta.
Salamat sa pagiging bantay,
Ng bahay at buhay.
Salamat sa pagpaparamdam,
Kung anu ang isang tunay na kaibigan.
Na iniiyakan at napagkukwentuhan,
Na sanay naiintindahan mo naman.
Siguro ngay wala ng pwedeng pumalit sayo.
Sa buhay ng mga taong binantayan mo.
At alam ko naman na ramdam mo,
Na ni minsan hindi ka nila naituring na iba gaya ng tao.
Salamat din kina,Sansa,Chester,Junjun, Panda,
At sa iba na hindi ko na nakilala.
Sa isang kaibigan na din nang iiwan,
Diba nga kahit sa paliguan ay kasama ka pa.
At hindi ka naman paborito,
Kasi nasa kwarto ka pag malamig ang klima.
At ngayon nga na wala kana.
Di mo maiaalis ang pangungulila,
At gabi na si Michelle ay lumuluha.
Salamat muli asong mapagkalinga.
Aug 15, 2017
Aug 15, 2017 at 11:05 PM UTC
There might have been a time
When I wasn’t full of fear so topped off
Like a gassy sombrero
like a burrito left in the
Sun to bake and there might have
Been a
Time
When I hadn’t yet eaten a burrito
landlocked
In New England, locked in a small state of
Fear and knowing that knowing
just isn’t
Enough.
There might have
Been
A time when luxury was a nickel
apiece paperback
Book at the Unitarian Church fall sale
to raise funds for
Their roof.
To raise their
Roof.
And there
Might
Have been a joy in my spark
Plugs,
A joy
In my canter
A Joy in
My legs that preceded my
Fears.
There might
Have
Been a time:
When I would pick one of the seven records we owned
And delicately put it on the turntable, thinking I will
Have my own money and
buy my own music.
When I idly lift the leaded paint
from the 200 year old wood
And scratch it to smell its sweet aroma.
And put my hand on the glass pane
Think hard enough and open your eyes and it will be
1838 again.
Oh where are the people?
Oh where
when there might have been a time
Did I not see who they are?
Or they did not register.
I must have watched them everyday
Observant
so keen to be seen
Is it possible to feel so much
for feeling so little?
Or did I feel gulfs of embrace
that were not there?
I wanted and I desired and I dug.
I craved and thought and speculated
and clung.
And there might have
Been
A time when I roared on my Schwinn down the long empty
Roads of my town.
Invoking our gods.
Invoking my claims.
There was a time when I stuttered with
Compassion and could
feel a touch observed
There was a time:
Across the street in a
lit house at dusk.
Their curtains are open, their lights are on.
Oh, the sun has settled down
There is that time, golden, when I
Look into your kitchen, and the wallpaper is
Blue and harvest gold with small pictures of oil lamps on
Them and your walls are mustard gold.
Your plates are unbreakable
I see them lustre in the
Overhead light, fashioned like a wagon wheel.
Guns ablazin’.
Trails awash.
There might be a time when I can slip back
Into your kitchen
lick the plates and then
Run my fingers over
the wall paper.
Tracing the outline of the oil
lamps imprinted.
Aug 22, 2018
Aug 22, 2018 at 7:19 AM UTC
I am Immortal
I am Invincible
I am Imemorable
I am the blackness living deep
in the bile ducts of your lungs,
I hear you whisper my name;
and I shiver.
I have neither hero nor god:
I am that I am that I am-
ALIVE
I learned not the word caution
I know not the meaning of a future:
I am where I am where I am-
NOW
The bullet which ricocheted off my right *** cheek and exploded through my left ******** seemed to have its own voice as it whizzed by, winking, “The truth may set you free young man, but not until it is finished with you.”
May 2, 2016
May 2, 2016 at 8:08 PM UTC
Your lips say that you love
Your eyes say that you hate
It’s written upon your face
All the lies how they cut so deeply
Everything you say to me
takes me one step closer to the edge
I’m holding on
Why is everything so heavy?
Sometimes solutions aren’t so simple
Sometimes goodbye is the only way
It’s so much easier to go
than face all this pain here all alone
Set the silence free
to wash away the worst of me
‘cause everything that you thought I would be
has fallen apart right in front of you
Forget our memories
Forget our possibilities
We’re building it up, to break it back down
We’re building it up, to burn it down
Take everything from the inside
and throw it all away
Remember all the sadness and frustration
and let it go
So I let go watching you
turn your back like you always do
'Cause I’m only a crack in this castle of glass
Hardly anything there for you to see
I tried so hard and got so far
But in the end, it doesn’t even matter
We said it was forever but then it slipped away
Standing at the end of the final masquerade
Jul 31, 2017
Jul 31, 2017 at 2:56 AM UTC
This is in dedication to Mr. John Grant a spokesman
for Veterans for Peace local 31. When during the late Bush years we protested the Bushy Zombies in West Chester
Pa. This took place every Saturday from early morning till
around 4 or 5 pm. He keep saying, "They're drinking the cool-aid."
P.S. Veterans for Peace is also national and is registered
under the U.N. with its own magazine. This was poem was written in 2010
Besides it has a rap beat to it
Lies ah decieven' our minds ah believen'
by ah drinkin' the cool-aid; eatin' funny-fudge
Drive-by ah flyin' innocent babes ah dyin',
while ah drinkin' the cool-aid; eatin' funny-fudge
Blacks against slavery racists say lazy,
Jim Crow ah knowin', black vote ah growin',
voter lines ah showen', black suppression ah growin',
while ah drinkin' the cool-aid; eatin' funny-fudge
Mr. sweater vest advisin' theocracy risin' ( Rick ********
gays cannot marry his heavy-load to carry,
all Muslims are targets by his government harlots,
body meedlers of women, no rights he has proven
by ah drinkin' his cool-aid and eatin' funny-fudge
Mexican Border right-wingers disorder,
Jail complexes growin', their profits showin',
public schools no maintain', corporate zombie schools gainin',
while ah drinkin' the cool-aid; eatin' funny fudge
Corporations are people super-vote-money inclusion,
Super Pacs' delusion, Democracy illusion,
while ah drinkin' the cool-aid; eatin' funny-fudge
Profits by Lockheed Martin perpetual wars embarkin',
wars appeasin' without good reason,
while ah drinkin' the cool-aid; eatin' funny fudge
No good reason callin' Wikkeleaks treason,
while ah drinkin' the cool-aid; eatin' funny fudge
Houses ah runnin' from ex-owners ah gruntin',
our lands will desert us whole nature unnerved us,
while ah drinkin' the cool-aid; eatin' funny fudge
Street people ah growin' with hardly non knowin',
parents ah cryin', hungry tots ah dyin', emergency rooms
ah packin', it's healthcare ah lackin'
While ah Wall Street ah hoppin' in triumph give-away-ah-hoppin',
while ah drinkin' the cool-aid; eatin' funny fridge
Slave hours grind us while paychecks are minus,
GOP congress never behind us,
while ah drinkin' the cool-aid; eatin' funny fudge,
Zombies surround us to only remind us,
QUIT DRINKIN' THE COOL-AID AND EATIN' FUNNY FUDGE!!!
Sep 19, 2014
Sep 19, 2014 at 4:19 AM UTC
In the ashes of division hope ignited
Unity decided a new fate, in its wake.
My father lived in Chester Road,
Off Ladbrook Grove, eight children
In a tenament flat back to back.
The poverty of the forties are
Now palatial palaces, white pillared.
My father joined the army to escape
To marry and move to Streatham,
South London, to an Edwardian terrace.
Notting Hill, the divided community
Chelsea and Kensington let it happen.
My grandmother moved to a new town
And this year we all watched on TV
Grenfell burn as an inferno in the dark.
Love Mary
Jun 14, 2018
Jun 14, 2018 at 12:48 PM UTC
Life on the city streets wasn't easy
I lived off top ramen along with the spray cheesey
Panhandlin' all day long just to get on by
It was enough to make a grown pigeon cry
That's right I'm a pigeon, I'm a bird of flight
But I'm a **** *** bird, win evry fight
Don't you talk back or I'll skin you, fly you like a kite
hide up yo kids cause I be coming for em tonight
Bye the way I'm batman.
A dark ************ knight!
So stay inside cause I be breakin in
An innocent pigeon, you'll never see me comin
Stealing all yo stuff an scoopin up yo kids
I'll auction em off, take the highest bid
So don't call me a **** cause I put a roof over their head
I pay them to work, by that I mean givin head
Later that night we'll all go to bed
Life be good when they **** my **** red
That's right I'm Chester the pigeon
You won't catch me in the kitchen
This poem be over so quit yo *******
Oct 30, 2014
Oct 30, 2014 at 2:07 PM UTC
Just a minute left before I should pinball out of my building doors
and speed over past the new high riser,
gust of wind pushing against my little body,
tiny amongst these buildings going up.
My eyes switch between the time and the streets,
My feet fall soft and I’m safe.
The trains not here yet and then it is,
and then I sit and I rip my book out of
my lunch bag, ticket tucked under my bookmark
In case the conductor don’t see me
I’ve been reading about the golden state killer.
Rye’s a five minute warning and then
I’m speeding out of another door down
the stairs past the elderly,
across one of the many ****** Port Chester
streets difficult to cross but I’m walking
my legs dart fast past the head shop and the bread shop
and my nose is filled with sweet and sour.
I walk faster- avoiding the CEO
he rides the same train and I don’t want to talk.
So I march forward and don’t look back.
I get closer and mentally flip off the line of five short men
catcalling me in Spanish, all the while peeking in to the brisa marina window
to see if there’s anything my herbivorous mouth could swallow,
but i don’t break my stride.
They’re practically a butcher anyway.
I climb the stairs to the entrance, stepping beyond the dead baby bird carcass
I was hoping some other animal would consume yesterday
and the avocado shell that would have been good to bury it with.
I try to shake the thought of impending doom as I swipe myself in
Still going as fast as i can so that I don’t have to hold the door open for the CEO
Call me petty, but I do enough of his bidding on a day to day
And I ascend to age 5 years for 10 hours.
And then I run home just to do it all over again the next morning.
May 17, 2019
May 17, 2019 at 11:15 PM UTC
As I sat in the park today
to rest my weary bones.
I heard a voice call out to me
from where it was not known.
I turned around and saw a squirrel
leaning against the tree.
I could not believe what I heard,
so I said,"Pardon me".
Then the squirrel called out,"Hey you".
And I said, "What the hell".
Then he said," Come over here".
And I said,"WHAT THE HELL".
Another squirrel joined the first,
I think his name was Bobby.
He said,"Why don't you leave her alone,
I think she's kind of snobby".
The other squirrel said," You think I should,
I want someone to go party".
Then Bobby said," Oh ya the party,
I think we may be tardy".
As I sat there in confusion,
my mind could not quiet grasp this illusion.
I over heard the little squirrel say,
"It's at Chesters, I know the way".
Then Bobby said,"He can really party.
Even the King stopped by,
though he didn't look to hardy."
As for me I'm really sorry, that I missed Chester's party.
Mar 15, 2013
Mar 15, 2013 at 8:53 PM UTC
Suicide;
it doesn't stop the pain.
It packs it into a grenade,
amd throws it
to your loved ones.
Jul 20, 2017
Jul 20, 2017 at 4:47 PM UTC
PTSD 22
Piercing through that troubled gaze
The fields of war fill the vacant stare
Search for peace through the combat haze
Desperate for darkness back “over there”
Pondering fear of a lifetime ago
The desert’s pain fills the empty boots
Still at war, for peace they go
Down in hallowed ground, 21 gun salutes
Pour one more strong for the 22 a day
The men of war can take some more
Saint Peter’s gates open to light the way
Defenders of peace only brave this door
Place your battle outside on the floor
To the warriors’ home in vallhalla’s hall
Soldiers only, long after their war
Day after day, salute 22 More
Chester Michaels
Sep 23, 2017
Sep 23, 2017 at 2:48 AM UTC
I wonder where I was all those years ago
Not a twinkle in a soldier’s eye
Nor the girl who took the guides
To them I became a surprise.
I lay down on grasses green
With Pooh and Eeyore
In Hundred Acre Wood
Hope Eeyore has his balloon.
In my mother’s bookcase
Is where I would be born
In the names of wildflowers
And the songs of the birds.
My father’s walks in London Town
Hyde Park Corner, The Serpentine,
Visits to family in Chester Road.
This is where I would learn to know.
All those years ago I never knew
Who I might be coming to
But never was there a single regret
The couple that loved me were the best.
Love Mary ***
Jul 5, 2018
Jul 5, 2018 at 3:01 PM UTC
Jack Cornwell was a Boy, First Class
On the Chester’s forward gun,
There to relay the settings with
A pair of headphones on,
He’d turned sixteen just months before
Was trained for his chosen task,
And hoped for a life of adventure as
He sailed, before the mast.
The Chester sailed to join the Fleet
That had left from Scapa Flow,
The Grand Fleet with its battleships
Sailed under Jellicoe,
They’d intercepted the German codes
And knew that they’d put to sea,
Hoping to split the British Fleet
And gain a victory.
The Chester turned to meet the flash
Of gunfire, far away,
The light was poor before the dawn
And the mist was thick that day,
Three funnels of a German ship
Came gliding through the mist,
And the Chester turned to starboard
Ready to show the British fist.
But the German ship was not alone
And the shells began to rain,
From the following battle cruisers
Shattering decks, in blood and pain,
Jack Cornwell stood at his post while all
His gun crew lay there dead,
Ready to take his orders, though
The Chester turned, and fled.
The medics found him with shrapnel wounds
Steel splinters in his chest,
He wouldn’t desert his post, he was
As brave as all the rest,
The Chester sailed for Immingham
Disembarked the wounded crew,
Put Jack in Grimsby Hospital,
There was nothing they could do.
He died just two days afterwards
Before his mother came,
She’d hurried on up from London
Where she’d caught the fastest train,
They buried Jack in a communal grave
So many men had died,
Fighting for King and country
Steeped in duty, worth and pride.
His name was honoured from lip to lip
How he’d stood beside his gun,
Determined to fight the German ships
‘Til the Chester turned to run,
Such courage born of England
Where it was tempered at the forge,
Was so inspiring in one so young
Said the Navy, to King George.
‘For shame,’ then cried the ‘Daily Sketch’
When they heard of the communal grave,
‘Is this how we treat our heroes,
Jack deserves the nation’s praise!’
The coffin was shortly disinterred
And draped with the Union Jack,
Drawn on an open gun carriage
With the Navy at its back.
His name went down in the history books
As the boy who stuck to his post,
In the midst of dead and dying men
As they made their way to the coast,
King George conferred the highest award
That there was, for bravery,
Awarded him the Victoria Cross,
Jack Cornwell, Boy, V.C.
David Lewis Paget
Aug 17, 2013
Aug 17, 2013 at 3:16 AM UTC
In the middle of the night
With sleep still in my eyes
I stepped into my kitchen
And received quite a surprise
As I reached out my hand
And flicked the light on
There were balloons, confetti, party hats
With a banner that read -WELCOME HOME-
I'd caught thousands of roaches
In the middle of song
They all turned and looked at me strange
As if I'd done something wrong
I heard a scream from the crowd
A foreign language to me
The next thing I know
I'm knocked down to my knees
As I'm being dragged
Across the linoleum floor
I see a little red button
That opens up a trap door
I started getting real nervous
The deeper we went
If I was a cat with nine lives
I think eight I just spent
They took me before the king
King Ralph Roach was his name
I only knew that
Cause that's what his name tag displayed
I was assigned a public defender
But that did me no good
He spoke Roach, I spoke Human
Each other we never quite understood
"GUILTY!" Came the verdict
I hollered what was my crime!
"Interrupting a roach in the middle of having a good time"
Came the judges reply
Squishing to be my death
The day after tomorrows last night
I said that doesn't make any sense?!
Hey, we're roaches....we're not known for our timely insight
So here I sit in my cell
Wishing I could take it all back
If I had just not gotten up
For that late midnight snack
Wait....is that a tap, tap, tap
(You didn't think this was the end did you?)
As my hours getting late
A roach we'll call Chester
For anonymity sake
Told me to stop all that blubbering
I've come to break you out of here
I stood and we hugged
Which would be strange if it wasn't so weird
We slipped past room after room
With all kinds of parties inside
One thing you can say about roaches
They know how to have a good time
When we reached the surface
All I saw was blessed heavenly light
I went straight in and packed my bags
And gave the house to my Ex-Wife
(Okay, now it's the end!)
Mar 10, 2013
Mar 10, 2013 at 7:46 AM UTC
Walking around Widener bookstore
Brown bag 40oz in grip on the first floor
Hurricane
my life and future funneled life a twister whimsical whirlwind
down the hatch guzzle guzzle. Oh, Christie! How are you!? can you see I am a mess? I know Youtell my Chinese girlfriend from our study abroad you saw me a mess in the bookstore. SHe is now heartbroken in chongquing. see ah ha
later im just returning books to get dope money.
LAter
Oh, I see you are stocking that Stranger Camus
Langston Hughes
English 102
I drift in my own “end of summers night”
still dreamin’
still falllin’
Dropping, stumbling, the house of German exchange professors
Sequestered on speed *****
Welcome to Chester
Corpse exquisite
the Bride resides in physics-compartmentalized-drawers
hiding refuge from the storm
He was Alone
( Most of the time he got weirded out easily)
Feb 11, 2015
Feb 11, 2015 at 7:53 PM UTC
There's a tale that's spoken
When dawn has broken
By gateman and watchmen and guards
And it's echoed by thieves
As the night time leaves
As they shuffle their crooked cards
Of a demon disguised
And a doctor despised
So be weary of coaches at night
There's a roaming physician
Of the devils tuition
A curse and a bringer of plight
Oh, Doctor Sinestre
The butcher of Leicester
A man with a hunger for pain
With top hat and tails
And talon-like nails
There are many he's happily slain
He travels by night
And is fast out of sight
And away by the first light of day
He takes eyes and ears
As grim souvenirs
And your body is left on display
It's said he was born
With a singular horn
Which he uses to gouge his prey
And my grandmother swears
He was brought up by bears
Which he killed in a grizzly display
He's a magical voice
A remover of choice
To beguile the strongest of wills
He can tear you apart
And pull out your heart
So quickly the blood never spills
Oh, Doctor Sinestre
The gory molester
An animal dressed as a man
If you hear him approach
In his ebony coach
Then away just as fast as you can
He feeds on the weak
On souls of the bleak
And seekers of fortune and strife
He removes your afflictions
Diseases, addictions
As swiftly he cures you of life
He has eyes in his ears
So he sees what he hears
His teeth once belonged to a snake
The soles of his feet
Don't meet with the street
Not a print or a sound does he make
There are maps of strange lands
On the palms of his hands
And thick purple hair on the back
There's a bat in his hat
All sluggish and fat
For if ever he fancies a snack
Oh, Doctor Sinestre
The mayor of Chester
And prince of the circles of hell
He giggles and gloats
As he fiddles with goats
He dabbles in chickens as well
A spaceship he flies
Through Lancashire skies
He can turn you to gold with a kiss
He's a ghost driven mad
By his alien dad
And.... Are you TOTALLY sure about this?
Jun 1, 2013
Jun 1, 2013 at 10:09 AM UTC
Justin: Born On Wheels
@2012 Linda Barrett
You always lived on wheels:
a newborn infant
perched in a car seat
beside your mother
when she drove
Her 1973 Green Impala
The toy Knight Rider car
was your first one
It cursed at you
from its imaginary dashboard
You hummed your open road song
while holding onto
the sides of the Red
Wheel barrow
as I bumped you along
our back yard’s stone walkway
Out in Chester County,
you roller bladed
and skate boarded into adolescence
Every Spring Break,
You traveled in
your grandparent’s station wagon
down to Florida
One winter,
you drove to Colorado by van
to snow board the mountains
Other guys chose college,
you took your mechanic grandfather’s cue
studied up in Boston
learned how to fix cars
inside and out
then put them back together again
You inherited the 1973 Green Impala
with its torn off vinyl top
let it go to rust and to the junkyard
then bought Red 1968 Ford pick-up
Your mother gave you a motorcycle
so you could scream down the Turnpike
with your Independence Day spirit
Nothing out on the road
can stop you
as if you were born
on wheels
Jul 7, 2012
Jul 7, 2012 at 8:06 PM UTC
I had my first legal bar experience last night.
I went to Kildaire's Irish Pub in West Chester,
and it was definitely a low key night,
which I liked a lot, because I'm no drinker.
Started it off with a Vegas bomb,
then a Yeager bomb, three red-headed *****
some Soco and lime, two green tea shots,
and ended my drinks with a bud light.
I made it out of the bar without puking,
which completely surprised me...
The most powerful movement I felt though
was through the karaoke machine,
There was a marvelous energy booming
through the bar, whether the singer
was good or terrible everybody enjoyed.
It made me realize that I want to try
something with my poetry... Spoken Word.
Thank you God!
Oct 15, 2012
Oct 15, 2012 at 10:28 AM UTC
I ain't no superstar.
Just a twenty year old boy
trying to be a man.
I wonder if I'll get far?
For this is the path I've chosen
to execute my plan.
It's been a weird few years.
I've done a lot of stupid things
that I'll have to answer for.
I've shed so many tears.
My motives were corrupt
and my heart became sore.
But recently I've seen a light.
A rejuvenation has set course
and I have a new attitude.
I've been wrong and I've been right.
I'm only human but I'm finally
on the right path towards gratitude.
May 17, 2012
May 17, 2012 at 10:28 PM UTC
Not a coward
But a cup overflowing
With the damning dark
Not a coward
But a human capable
Of emotion's full spectrum
Not a coward
But a father unable
To see through the deafening dark
Not a coward
But a man plagued
By plundering depression
Not a coward
But someone like me
Wading through a cell
Not a coward
But a person trying to breathe
Yet inhaling only that which drowns
His muses became his captors
His brain became his prison
His family became his mourners
But he was not a coward
He just wasn't a survivor
Jul 23, 2017
Jul 23, 2017 at 5:14 PM UTC
Billy from Belfast.
Oh, I wish I could explain what you did to me..
I close my eyes and I can still see us there,
on your tiny balcony.
The silence of our dreams covered by a voice that sings about an unknown future.
The sun dancing on the rooftops.
You are me and I am you, a soul connection out of this world..
A silent minute for our fallen hero, Chester Bennington.
A cheer with Stella.
Tired legs running, empty streets.
Our laughter echoes, a dead bar street.
A lost phone, a search for an open supermarket.
An empty beach, no life guards on duty.
My head on your chest, shared chemistry.
Your lips on my forehead..
Oh, how the morning sun hit your face.
I wish you'd realise how beautiful you are..
I take a sip of your ****** drink, I smile and take your hand.
Sticky salty skin, the heat of the rising sun.
7AM.
Sand in my cup, I see you watching the horizon.
I look at you and I wonder..
Can I have you?
...Billy from Belfast.
Aug 2, 2019
Aug 2, 2019 at 2:59 PM UTC