Game Poems - Poems about Game

Justice can’t be served in Gaza blood soaked stained sands 200,000 lives massacre...

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We knew from the get go after Brendon accepted the call…jettisoned old school for new cool..the Kiwi on the balcony who looks like he’s smoked some bud..having a kip..let slip..quick to quip..almost let rip..did appall..won't linger..two finger flip..nip it in the bud..say no go…skip..snip..crud dud pick…so toodlepip..tally ho to the thick not slick Bazball blip..this...

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Boomers watch flames in burning fires inside, They dream in vinyl, staring with eyes open wide. Some call this gaze: 'Lead paint glaze' of despair, It's the first move in the game of Generational Stare. Watch them stares; wait on, don’t be afraid, Each blank look is a frozen charade, With eye glazed over in blank despair, The soul is on pause,...

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In Nigeria’s heart, the wonders shine, From Ogbunike Caves to Yankari’s line. Farin Ruwa falls with power and grace, While Owu’s waters dance in place. Olumo Rock stands strong and wide, Idanre Hills with age and pride. Obudu’s mountains, calm and high, Where Niger and Benue rivers lie....

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In a café’s hush, two lovers as pawns, at dawn’s closed gate before it dawns. They clutch a paper, creased and thin, their vows on trial for breathing sin. The soldiers come with boots of dust, their eyes demand, “Obey or trust?” A ring means little, papers less, they weigh our love in bitterness. Her scarf is blue; she pins it tight, a hidden...

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If life were a game of chess, I would not be holding the chess pieces. I wish to become a chessboard, So I could see the wonders of life and be free Or I may in another way I can explain A plain tea that reflects the story of life, The chess pieces will show your past life How...

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Life between the highs and lows Is stable, or one would suppose, Yet that might not be true at all – When high, you’re waiting for the fall. And naturally, when you are low, There is no way for you to know How long until your saddened state Will vanish, so again you wait. So life becomes a waiting game. If being stable is...

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Somewhere between when sleep overtakes and then when I'm not really awake as if on a film running through my head the reel unrolls a story unfolds and I never lose the thread tho' the plot may be somewhat bizarre from whence I know not yet never forgot I find words appear in my mind from way over yonder out of the blue and...

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life's so E A SY ~ When you are ...

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The game of life is fkd we supposed to value money so people get it by any means then its from the cops we runnin and people doing life for sellin green to the ones who tryna escape by gettin high, they known as fiends... an now they both behind that barbed wye and cut like seams and...

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I stepped up to the plate, with my old, familiar stance, thinking my set routine, would parry the pitcher’s prance. The first was a curved ball, curiously spun with such intrigue. I watched it drift in, then away, off the plate. A ball! The next was a fast-ball, right on line. I swung too early, too locked up in dreams, Convinced I...

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What’s the point to see no point? Maybe it’s a game A devil’s game to which I joined Just to get the blame So I split myself in two But I drink like three One of me then said hey you Will you stop it, please? Then another me replied What’s the deal, my friend You’re no Jekyll, I’m no Hyde Can’t you understand That the Devil’s...

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The gate creaked, moaning and groaning to shut, Sealing up, quelling, the bickering blame-game glut. No you can’t sneak around, and jump the fence, With grave looting cries of grief-stricken offense! That won’t work anymore! So don’t strut up on-bail, Clad in your ghostly godforsaken gossamer veil, Claiming it was not your fault, 'cos you told no lie! For snake-eyes have tears...

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Let's play a game of telephone... crepitant tongues converse overly dramatic tendencies incoherently concrete awakening preoccupation a train flying off the tracks chaotic clumps crust up dissonance distended indecorous reception viral instigator I dont want to sift sterilize rhetoric abrasive to the ear. A game of telephone...let's play....

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If I were in automaton mode and wrote a digital poem with binary code in terms of two states expressed as 0's and 1's (positive and non-positive) which when done alternate and run in a lengthy string then later transmit the data with technology it would not read a beautimous thing but repetitively tedious or boring indeed nought but a numbers game of dreary ennui it would positively be ...

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