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Taru M Oct 2013
Beware if you don't want to get checked
I am a knightmare
A pawn when you step
My bishops are a big scare
Bishops are unsaintly
Slaying enemies daily
They sacrifice themselves for a higher cause
I'm playing out this game even though I get no applause

You're a novice when you play
I'm Sun Tzu at his best
That means my strategy can withstand the test
can subdue your mind
and in time you'll find
My thinking's not black or white
It's ornery
Never tip my king
Even if you corner me

The rooke is my home,
defense from those who prey on me
My queen is always loyal
Til the end she stays with me
Til the end she lays with me
My mate til mate
Your hand's reaching for the clock
but it's far too late

And so to end this rhyme let me slow the pace
And drop a heavy message in this empty space
Chess club is coming soon
You can learn to play
Room 285
Monday through Thursday

9th period!
this is my promo rap for the chess club I'm trying to start
John B Dec 2015
If you woke up from your chosen torments?

And found my heart?

On your cuting room floor were you left it.

Would you feel shame?

Try to put it back?
Abeer Feb 2023
"The knight are riding at dawn". When I was little, naive, I swear I must have wondered some dispatch of the lights around me, she holds me, indisputably, while her mind is breaking, dying of depression. The lights made me feel uncomfortable. They were to too bright and the air was smokey as well.
Just a corner of some distinct place, I saw a man collecting a pile of rubble from a cracked platform. There wasn't time to ponder for a dog just crossed me. I was frightened by volume. In that cold place, while waiting for help to ride by, in the middle of someplace I don't recall, the lights made me lose weight from the ghosts circling around you. The wolves howl and I try to run but I am stuck between skyscrapers. The dog just turned into a knightmare for it lingers around me. I was little. The gravity was posing some relief. It was pulling her soul onto a cradle for sleep.
While I was wondering how to escape the fate of demons around me. I was little and naive.
Furious gusts of air
mightily blow bestirring anchored poet
sitting comfortably numb
securely strapped in his hard to maneuver
easy bath chair
while all around him debris
strewn helter skelter everywhere
heavy objects unmoored
pirouetting topsy turvy

defying laws of physics
cue Adam Smith
courtesy his invisible hand
eulogizing, kickstarting, and regulating
unseen cogs and gear
in order to avoid being plucked up
analogous to whirling dervish
ye dear reader best don
top of the line name brand ironware

to fend off soundcloud
analogous to webbed
whirled wide rooky banshee
hounding kingly bishopric
inducing royal knightmare
whereat pawns called play
as damage control representatives
ultimately linkedin to medicare
for ****** harm suffered

and property destruction
doled out courtesy Nationwide Insurance,
nevertheless yours truly
experienced heightened anxiety
cuz I accidentally, casually, easily,
et cetera eavesdropped,
though a polite gentleman (boot no scholar)
loud talking policyholder
anyone could easily overhear

their strident vocalizations
and they owned chutzpah to queer
re: me for listening to conversation
threatening with abominable language to scare
living daylights, which nearly caused
writer of these words
to soil his underwear
such vociferous threats
wrought quick thinking defense posture,

whereby my ordinary shy demeanor
empowered after downing
powder milk biscuits
(cuz heaven's their tasty)
and declaring warfare
against being bullied
versus suffering as token scapegoat
most every year
from boyhood until emerging adulthood.

After crafting above lines
current generated via whoosh;
I sat mine hind quarters
(otherwise referred to the ****),
which signalled to Doctor Quackenbush,
(id est Groucho Marx)
not deficient with quick wit
whose hook, line and sinker
word of the day namaycush
helped one environmental ******
high (fish) tail to Hindu Kush
where removal from madding crowd
spiritually inoculated one
with a profound hush.

— The End —