Best Chester Poems
You have no idea what you've done to me
the damage you have created
the broken person I have become
No idea how it has affected me
the relationships that have been severed
my self worth diminished
You have no clue how much you've changed me
the distorted way I view the world
unable to trust, to love
Clueless to how you've molded me
into an inverted, confused girl
struggling with doubt and rebellion
You don't know how much I hate you
you've destroyed what I could have been
the happy, confident person I long to be
Don't know how much you've hurt me
nightmares and fear follow me
the flashbacks occur all too often
All for a little thrill
a selfish need for satisfaction
not taking into consideration
my feelings, my resistance
not realizing that I will one day be a woman
scorned and guarded
All for some instant gratification
that didn't mean much to you
the scheduled violations
when no one was around
the sour feeling I got in my stomach
every time you touched me
So all should be forgiven?
my emotional trauma should just be discarded?
I should move on with my life?
It's not that simple
I want you to feel the pain I felt
I want you to hurt like I did
I want tears to stream from your eyes
as I've cried many nights
Then and only then
can I begin to heal.
I'm sorry it's taken so long, I wish I had the strength to write this sooner
I usually hide behind Sarcasm, but this was one time where I couldn't hide behind humour
I break down when I hear your voice, so this is one of the hardest things I've ever had to write
We miss and love you Chester Bennington and we all cared when we lost one more light
Rest in peace Chester, a man so kind, with a voice so powerful it touched millions of hearts
you may never know how many people you saved with your art
You were the light that helped so many of us through the dark
Since you've been gone, it's been even more emotional listening to Linkin Park
I wish we could have done something to save you
But you were so strong and fought so hard against the battles that were gave you
I can't help but to feel emotional anytime I hear one more light
I wish I was lucky enough to see you perform live
Your music has and still helps me to make it through my own battles
Just like the Linkin Park song goes "Weep not for roads untravelled"
Mike is doing okay, he released an incredible album called Post Traumatic
I know you're looking down on him and are still a part of his magic
I apologise if these words aren't the greatest, this was a difficult poem to write
I Hope you've been at peace since you gained your heaven wings
we love you Chester, thank you for everything
and we all cared when we lost one more light
...He turned back to see all four of his gang
staring at him, in anger and shock.
“That boy was worth thousands,”seethed out mad Bret,
his hand shifting towards his rifle stock.
Chester pull his gun in a blur of speed,
sent two slugs into the nearest forehead,
the bandit went down, but the others drew,
the air crackling with muzzle flashes and lead.
Chester hit another, straight in the heart,
then felt something bite deep into his side,
he stumbled backwards, then fired again,
his shot hit home and another man died.
Then Bret’s rifle roared, shattering his shin,
he collapsed down to the group in a heap,
but he still had his Colt, two bullets left,
aimed upwards and let fly with a screech.
Two shots hit Bret right in the sternum,
soon too he collapsed down to the dirt,
both men bleeding heavy, both wounds mortal,
they faced their last minutes on this earth.
Bret choked through blood, croaked out a rough,”Why?
I though this gang meant everything to you?”
Chester coughed,”Yes, that is what I thought,
but that boy you seized was my nephew.”
Bret never said anything ever again,
Chester slumped back, and looked up at cold stars,
praying that Ronald still sprinted away,
that his horse had kept pace long and hard…
A whole day passed, then the Marshall came out,
with a posse, Ronald, and Tim Miller,
they looked at the scene, shook their heads slowly,
said,”A fine final scene for these killers.”
But Tim found his brother, his face at peace,
hoisted the body higher up on his horse,
the other men grumbled, but Tim would not
let his kin be brought in for a reward.
He had heard everything Ronald has told,
and though his brother down dark paths had roamed,
he’d shown he hadn’t lost everything good,
and would rest quietly beneath a stone.
Back on the ranch he carved into granite
so all that who might ride by it would know,
‘Here lies Chester Miller, who lived a rough life,
but in the end managed to die a hero.’
In the desert waste Chester Miller looked out,
saw the rest of the gang riding back slow,
fresh from the bank job in Copperstone Creek,
a place that Chester could dare not go.
He’d spent his teen years in that little ville,
caused much mischief of the criminal kind,
if he had rode in with the gang today
he would surely have been recognized.
So he’d drawn up a plan and then stepped back,
let the rest of the boys do the hard work,
given the sacks tied on to their saddles
they’d succeeded, and got away unhurt.
But on the horse of his right-hand man,
an old rebel who the boys called Bret,
rode a scared boy, his eyes wide with terror,
fighting not to sob with every breath.
He tossed the boy down in front of Chester,
who said,”Why did you bring a young kid here?”
Bret said,”Took a hostage, held back the marshall,
allowed us to escape with nothing to fear.”
Chester looked closely at the ten-year old,
seeing something familiar in his face.
“Besides,”said Bret,”now we’ll get a ransom,
his father looked the type who could pay!”
They bound the boy’s hand with a stretch of rope,
but made no other effort to restrain,
as they all drank, Chester watched the boy,
where had he seen him? He wracked his brain.
As night started to fall, the gang dropped off,
Chester suddenly saw truth before him:
the brow and the forehead, the sweep of the jaw,
a spitting image of his brother Tim!
Chester knelt down, look the kid in the eyes,
asked,”By what name are you usually called?”
The boy stammered,”R-R-Ronald Miller.”
Said Chester,”Named after your grandpa.”
He did not have to ask any further,
the boy was his nephew, without doubt,
and with not a moment’s hesitation
he pulled a long, dull Bowie knife out.
Ronald’s eyes bulged from his head in fear,
until Chester quickly slashed his bond,
took the confused boy, lead him by the hand,
said,”Now we have got to move quickly, come on.”
They picked their way over to his horse,
up on the saddle the small figure went.
Chester was about to clamber up to
when the night by a loud shout was rent.
Bret was awake, the others coming ’round,
they’d be drawing their irons before long,
said to the kid,”Tell Tim Chester helped you!”
Slapped the horses, and in a flash it was gone...
CONCLUDES IN PART II
Love is gone from my sight
Damnation love can't unit
In the mirror i see my own face
I'm lest scared of the white man but more of my own race
Burned by love fast at it's own pace
domination that's it's own case
Sponsored nothing but pain they have
The girl who lived on Chester ave......
Chester CatMaster, a nature wizard,
cast a few spells upon some lazy lizards;
chanting “Meow-chi-nik-de-nook-do-kangi”,
he turned them into various fungi.
There were Buttons and ake,
Puffballs, Polypores and maitake;
Hedgehog, Earpiks and Penny Buns,
Old Chester was having so much fun.
Chester had given them legs of their own,
around and around him, they all did roam.
He held onto their roots like little leashes,
this sight left me quite shockingly speechless.
There he stood with the fungi all dancing around,
I believe he considered them to be little clowns.
Then he did something that had me surprised,
he planted them into the ground and fertilized.
Turned their legs into roots that held them in place,
I looked and he had a huge smile on his face.
He said he was planting a yard full of trees,
the fungi helped them to communicate with ease.
Warding off dangerous insects is vital;
fungi are helping trees do it in cycles.
Chester CatMaster is simply the best;
his Fungi will always outdo the rest.
Chester on stage
holding a high note -
how will he bring it down?
Some screams from girls
as he brings it down,
and "E", the note,
brings genuflection.