Best Chip In Poems


Premium Member Chipped Things

I loved her chipped tooth 
loved it even more when 
she said she'd never have it fixed
she was beautiful
why she paid attention to me 
i'll never know
a chipped toothed beauty
briefly dancing with a manphibian
three decades ago.
She left this realm just before the towers fell
leaving a chip in my heart
that'll never be fixed.

Walking the Streets of Dayton

Walking the streets of  Dayton
Warning my city of the Lord’s soon arrival
Explaining the Mark of the Beast
And tribulation survival
What’s it gonna take to escape the things coming upon this earth?
I’ve been hearing stories about this time coming since my birth
All ears are peeled
Curiosity is peeked
The citizens of my city don’t want to be deceived
They don’t know who the Antichrist is 
But they sure don’t like the President
Whenever his name is mentioned a sour look comes upon their faces
No matter who I speak with…
The Veterans, the widows, the elderly…
They say, “HELL NO! YOU’RE NOT GONNA PUT NO CHIP IN ME!”
They’re flaming mad and speak of rights and guns

This is my cause
This is my city
Their blood is on my hands
I must do what I am called to do
I must walk the streets of my city
Everyone must do their part to pave the way for the Messiah
Everyone must tell the masses what will happen if they are left behind
Don’t keep the truth from them
Let them have the raw facts
The U.N. troops are already here and they have their survival packs
The world leaders have their bomb shelters
And the little people have Jesus
Spread the gospel and love my city so they may escape all this
Destruction is coming, Dayton! Get your hearts right with the Messiah!
He is the only hope we have for tomorrow
He is on the other side of the sun rise
Repent and live holy
Surrender your will to the King
Get down upon your knees my neighbors
Make him your everything
What’s the Antichrist gonna promise you?
A drink of fresh water? Temporary shelter? 
He only cares about killing off the human race quickly
And putting us all ten feet under
Repent and be baptized in the name of Jesus Christ
Be as wise as the Serpent and escape all these things!

Gwendolen Rix
9-30-14

Small-Town Sanctuary

here is the house we grow up in;
down the road, there is the house we grow old in. 

somewhere down the road, split right down the middle, is everything in between. 

in this thousand acre town, there’s not much to know besides the way the grass rubs against our palms while we try to break our falls, or the way the concrete seems to have the same amount of cracks, every time we count. 

i found you in this town, three streets up, like you never meant to be far, to be hiding. 

i met you in the grass, dewy but ever so sweet. 
i met you with a chip in your tooth, dull but ever so sharp.
i met you, loud but never quiet. 

this town gave us fireflies in jars instead of train horns and city sidewalks;
gave us nights stargazing in your backyard instead of flashing lights in the middle of the street. 

this town was our match in a city-wide power outage, and we wouldn’t blow out the light for a second. 

this town made us, but it also saved us.


The Jester

The Jester puts on her smile,
Plastered to her make-up smeared face.
Bright lights blind her empty eyes.
She can see no one in the crowd.

Inside her mind,
She screams for release.
Twisting the head off her doll,
Blood runs down her cheeks.

Her hands gripped tightly around the neck of the doll,
She pulls as hard as she can.
No one’s around for miles;
They left her to die.

Smiles and laughs surround her,
Taunting her every move.
They tease and mock her,
Pointing out flaws.

How her hair sticks out;
How her tooth has a chip in it.
Her eyes go dark as she wishes them death.
Under her breath she curses.
They will never lead happy lives.
They will know what it’s like being a puppet.

Just a toy in a closet,
Thrown around like nothing.
She wants to rip them all apart,
Limb by limb till there’s nothing left.

In her mind she makes up stories.
Stories where she’s no longer the jester,
No longer do they laugh at her.

With bloodshot eyes,
She cranes her neck to the sky.
Her screams echo through the stadium,
Reverberating off the walls, 
Bouncing back to her ears,
Killing everything in its path.

She falls to the ground in a puff of dirt.
When it clears,
The Jester is nowhere to be found.

Premium Member The Rent of Judgement

I've traipsed down a cobble of your path.
If you're ever lost, forgotten or misstep
I'll surely spruce up a room for you.
It'll be on the mundane -humble side 
but safe-warm and welcoming
like in a child's sunlit dream.
I can cloak the well-worn floor
with a pattern of your choice.
There'll be no rent (of judgement).
Only a gray shoulder to stain 
with the colors of your 
desperation and heaviness.

We'll whisper of the misty past 
untangle the present and its jaggedness
pan the gold from the slag of tomorrow.
I'll gently lay a patch upon
that blue chip in your heart
for I love you immensely 
you can stay forever if you wish
dear heart

They Said By This Time We Would All Have Chips In Our Hands

THEY SAID BY THIS TIME WE WOULD
 ALL HAVE CHIPS IN OUR HANDS

Sharp- tack like.	 Smart- in the way of the whip.
Not just another pretty face
Another prepay throwaway phone number
A melting face scorching heat summer
This deity of feminine endings
A portable telecom utilize powered solar waves 
 Sentience to embrace
Not just a common *****
Romance to begin
A deathly contentment witch
Cellular radio telephonic device
Your fate dwells depending
A sentence to this
 Sewn on Siamese twin
A human centipede stitch
To connect via radio frequency
All these men			a chip in their hand?
The chips already there
They hold it everyday
And Candy-crush
Facebook
Angry-birds
Zombies of hypnotic freemium turds
They have implanted the chip
You swore you never would succumb
It is either attached to your hip
Or glued to your thumbs

In irony
(Zombie gardening apt analogy)
Form: Limerick


Here We Part Ways By Vera Polozkova Translation

Here we part ways, dear. Sorry, excess makes me sick.
You'll visit me one day as an anticyclone.
We ate cheese drinking Port wine few times a week,
Used to chip in for a new bottle like brothers.
From now on we'll no longer see one another.
I will remember you silly, skinny and weak,
Eighteen, a bit drunk and without a real mother.  

We knew only excess, there was no middle ground.
You were cute when you laughed. I still recall the sound
Of days at the faculty when like kids we sat
On beige worn-out window-sills to enjoy a chat.
Each his own boss, yet a whiner with a cola.
We part ways here, dear. It's that around
The corner you continue solo.

I won't come to read the burial. There's green grass
And a lake. The car's in the bush, after you pass
The fill. I don't recall how I made it out alive at eighteen.
I don't know how it feels dying at twenty two even if keen.
See you not-soon! Hard to catch up with you, frizzy.
I watch your back as you leave and feel so dizzy.
Form:

Today Is Terrible----

The cracked spine of
the book I dropped
at the call.
A chip in my
windshield left by a
pompous *?#@! in a
red sports car as I
drive to the
service.
Rain expectorating
from an ashen sky as
the dirt is turned.
Today is terrible.
Though this is less
terrible than the
crack in grandma’s
spine from her fall
down the stairs.
The chip in her
amazingly smart mind
after eighteen years
as a teacher.
Tears running,
dripping from my
Mothers ashen face
as she cries “My
mama’s dead.”
Today is terrible.
Though this is less
terrible than the
cracked family
emotions left raw
and empty.
The chip in Grandpas
numb mind at the
gathering… “Where is
Irene she should be
here?”
Faces gone ashen
with dread, do we
leave him numb or
remind him that his
wife is dead?
Today is terrible.
Though this is less
terrible than the
empty silences,
missing the jokes
Grandma used to
crack.
Grandma’s laugh and
her endless smile
which always exposed
that tooth with the
chip in it.
Without her the
world has become
empty, bleak, and
ashen.
Today is terrible.

                   
                   
                   
          Summer
Gratias
Form:

Warning

Warning always knew he was different,
Had some very strange ideas,
Spent a lot of time devising plans,
Told people he could rule the world,
Got himself a job in the government,
Knowing that he could put his plans into action,
Started ordered people about,
Setting up guidelines in society,
They laughed at him and mocked,
But he was determined to succeed,
Even thou nobody would listen,
First was his speed limits on the roads,
“Who does he think he is,” They said,
As they drove fast and furious,
Then he decided no drink driving,
Still, they ignored him even more,
He started to get very angry with them,
“I know how I can control the world,
I’ll put camera’s up on ever street corner,
I can watch them from my office.
“I’ve got them now,” He chuckled,
It will be a network of Internet.
But would they listen? No!
Yet another plan he enforced,	
They can pay a fine,
Most people took heed,
But still rebelled,
His power grew even stronger,
Meetings were convened,
He decided to flash his name,
“I am your Warning obey me.”
They ignored!
“What is up with these people,” He thought,
“What do I need to do to make them listen,?
I know! I will insert a chip in their hand,
This way I can follow them where ever they go,
They didn’t obey my orders,
Now! I have all the power I ever wanted,
Warning thought how clever he was,
Now I can rule the world."

22/10/2016

Old Times and New

Old Times and New

I travel in my wandering mind
To a different day and time
Back to the mid-40's
When a cute young secretary was I.

Back when dresses marked size 14
Are current day skimpy 10s,
That's where this reminiscing poem
Is about to begin.

Copying documents or research for themes
Required an old Xerox machine;
Filled with fluid and a tray
It was the high tech of its day.

Causing just a little bit to splash,
Was an economical duress,
For even a drop of it would make a hole
In a pure silk, wool or cotton dress.

The copies had to be hung and dried,
Sometimes unreadable even then;
Remember those old yellowed pages
You see in old books now and again?

Then there was the mimeograph,
Stencils typed and clicked on a wheel,
I had a cute boy working with me,
I did my best to make him reel.

Old manual typewriters with ribbons,
Underwood, Smith Corona and Remington,
My daddy washed piece by piece in gasoline
Built BC (before computers) or electric ones.

We went through MTST machines and 
Computers in air conditioned rooms with ducts,
Before arriving at desk and laptops,
Our paperless society is now recycle bins and trucks

Progress? I don't know - is this primitive now?
Will they really put a chip in our brain
Where we can think a task and still make love.
Has technology made us insane?

The Economy of the World Rests On My Shoulders and My Shoulders Rest On You

All the windows are boarded
the room is big and loud and bright
I never hear doors opening and closing
I no longer hear silence
I can no longer feel silence
the ringing in my ears never stops

I place the platinum chip in the cell receiver
there is no time to make sure it is in good
before I blink the next one is in front of me
thousands of times each day the same motion
so many motions but time seems to be still
only the hot breath of the floor boss moves

My father and my mother work here too
but I am not able to see or talk with them
someday I will go to school and learn to read
nineteen girls sleep in the same small room
we have little rest and only one meal a day
I am 12 years old and dream of many things

I have never had a pretty new dress
I have pain in my hands that won’t go away
I want to cry but I am not allowed to do so
sometimes I find it hard to breathe right
sometimes it feels like I am burning up
sometimes I hear myself screaming inside

You must understand I am not complaining
I am grateful for this wonderful opportunity
you must realize how much you mean to me
© Barry Levy  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Verse

Just a Drop

JUST A DROP !
Immaculate and pure.
Without blemish nor blame, only flames of beauty- which kills.
Two ripen pawpaws, sharp like the peak,
Of an hummingbird.	
Her physiognomy, brooding  eyes and a thin neck.
Her bewitching  gap, like a termite’s.
No blemish, if any, blame the sculptor.
I begged her “Can I draw from thy well ?”
She gazed at me, paused and smiled, intentionally to kill me.
“Nay; it’s soiled.”
I pressed again, quench my thirst,my thing troubles me”
Reluctantly she answered “I am living dead,young man,GO AWAY FROM ME “
How it cuts mercilessly to my inside marrow.
Toned between tears I felt into her arms, she held me like a baby and whispered “Friend, I am rotting inside “
I mustered up my bravado , ” You are not dead , I can touch you, nI feel you. Just a drop and am done….”
She graciously warned “You are pure, don’t die soon son of my mother”
I nagged her, ”To wet my thing…which troubles me.”
When I insisted,she yielded to the calling of my ‘ other being’.
She embraced me.Our lips met in the air,
Filled with the ambience of romance…or was it infatuation?
I grabbed her madly,I held her to my tiny broad breast.
Hers heaved to and forth.
She trembled.
I died, or so I thought.
In a flash of an eye, I had traversed her well.
TO AND FRO-once and I felt contented.
CONSCIOUSLY,I gazed at her, who now lied beside me.
Accusingly I querried” What have you done? Who are you?” 
She replied between sobs, “My well is contaminated. You have drawn from my well, we are dying souls.”
Before I could chip in, she added “If you die early, I promise to attend your last prayers! And if I die early, attend mine. Do you know why, Because my people will recognize you in ‘MY LIST ‘ 
I sort absolution from God, and comforted myself “Whoever confesses their sins, shall be forgiven “
I woke up.

Why Are There Others

Why are there others,
When there's only ourselves,
Primary,
Secondary,
Who goes first,
Who leaves last,
Who gets more,
Who drives fast,
Interconnected?
To that guy?
Why, he will never,
Ever,
Affect my outcome,
He could deliberate,
Dangle,
Debate,
And I'll keep moving,
Living,
Thriving, despite,
His malfeasance,
And her?
She's a mess,
A plodding set,
Of devastating circumstances,
She'll leave,
Move on,
And I'll keep moving,
Living,
Surviving, in spite of,
Her disapproval,
And she of mine,
Yet each,
He and she,
To one another,
And to me,
Together,
And separate,
As one,
Without knowing,
Only showing,
The prickly bit,
Of ourselves,
Standing firm,
Left foot,
Right foot,
Protecting turf,
And things,
Continuing our beliefs,
Mine is mine,
The rest,
To be delivered,
Thinking,
A little deeper,
Deeper,
Hmmm,
Wait a minute,
Can't get more,
Without him,
Can't have more,
Without her,
Can't be more,
Unless,
We all chip in,
It's time,
Ante up.

(10/16/02)

Office Christmas Party

we're team
coed worker dream
together
in good bad weather
we get the job done
repect for each other
we won
we chip in and get started
its
OFFICE CHRISTMAS PARTY

Waste of Tears

Waste of tears, why did I bother?
Waste of tears,  nothing new, been doing it for years,
Waste of  tears, while I was crying, you were sitting there laughing, I'm sure.

Waste of tears, for four months, I sat there thinking you really gave a dam, 
Waste of tears,  I sincerely thought you thought I was special, 
Waste of tears,  did you really say I was your sidekick?
Waste of tears,  did you really care about autism awareness?
Waste of tears,  why would you make me into a niece dumb mom?
Suzanne White, to think I considered you my mentor,  you really made me sick..

Waste of tears, well you know what? 
I'm not surprised, you see, I've been hurt all my life, you are just another chip in my broken heart,
Thanks for finally letting me see you for who you really are,  another person who reminds me that I NO longer have a reason to be on this earth, maybe I should revisit "The Bridge" because I have know now that You don't care about my safety.... 
Wasted tears no more, they have been flowing for too many years...
Form: Ballade

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