It’s my birthday.
The Seahawks lost.
You may or may not draw
An accurate conclusion
Of my happiness (or lack thereof)
Based on that information.
Tag Archives: Games
Quidditch
I met a girl
I thought was nice.
Turns out she was a witch.
She said that I
Was quite a catch.
‘Tis the life of a golden snitch.
Filed under Poems
The Kinda-Mostly-True Life of Bobby Fischer
I was a child prodigy,
A master at young age,
A Grandmaster at age seven,
A prepubescent sage.
Yet time passed by and I got old.
My skills increased as well,
Yet now that I’m a grown-up guy
I’ve lost the magic spell.
Instead of great, unique, and wise
I’m seen as “kinda lame,”
Forty years old, I’ve spent my life
Playing an old board game.
So what happened? What really changed?
Is greatness not enough?
When I was young my life was ease,
But now my life is tough?
It seems as if flying around,
Moving pawns on a board,
Winning trophies and title bouts
Is more impressive when you’re four?
Well then, screw that! I’m done with chess!
I’m moving far away
To be a scary racist hermit
And with myself I’ll play!
But now they call me back to play
A world championship game.
The cold war hinges on my success;
Such is the price of fame.
But afterwards I’m gone again
And that’s just fine with me.
My only hope’s that they will make
A movie about searching for me.
Filed under Poems
Yes, I’m White. Why Do You Ask?
I played some Chinese checkers
And no one batted an eye.
I enjoyed some Chinese chess
And no one asked me why.
I played some Chinese backgammon
And still they let me enter
But you play Chinese Russian Roulette
And they throw you out of the Chinese cultural center.
Filed under Poems
Maybe This Is Why That Sub-Genre Is Dead
You know Jumanji,
Zathura and such –
Those movies where board games
Get to be a bit much?
I think this election
Is the Jumanji-equivalent
Of Monopoly, where rich people
Make voters ambivalent.
Filed under Poems
Playing With Myself
They see me in an empty room
Running in circles without any cares.
What they don’t know is that I am losing
A one-person tourney of musical chairs.
Filed under Poems
Game Night In Canada
If you’re tired of playing cards
And you’ve trashed your chess set
Try something new for game night:
Canadian roulette.
To play, you take a loaded gun,
Then unload it, lock it up
And give to the police
Because they know what’s up.
Then you go play hockey
On a snowy northern pool.
That’s how a boring game night
Becomes Canadian Cool ™.
Filed under Poems
Don’t We All
They say I’ve a nose like a bloodhound,
Eyes of an eagle, ears of an elf.
That’s a polite way for people to say
I suck at hide-and-seek when I play by myself.
Filed under Poems
Tag, Circa 2016
I used to think the male gender,
Was a role in which I fit.
I was happy being “he”
Until they said “you’re it.”
Filed under Poems
