You are at a loss for ideas or words
As the bishop hacks your queen with two swords
And the knight knocks your rooks off
And the distraught king is deep in the rough.
But life is not a game of chess.
The spectators are disinterested with stress
And the scoreboard tells your players to do less.
Everybody wishes the whistle would go
To keep the 7 fixed with respect to the zero.
But life is neither football nor soccer.
You can hear the breath drawing near your rear,
And you feel this race is anything but fair,
For the first will soon overtake the last,
And you wish being last at the finish can soon pass.
But life’s nothing like a track competition.
Life’s neither chess nor soccer nor races,
And even as you tally your sad faces,
And weigh your failures and fears,
There can be counted joys through the years.
Unlike the competition to defeat
Another with skill and brave feat,
Your life opponent is your very human soul,
Seeking perfection through tonnes of failed goals.
Yes. So what if you didn’t keep the resolution?
So what if clumsiness destroys a last surviving edition?
The damage you deem highest abomination
May not seem, but can be the route to better your condition.
There it lay lazily in a sea of others like itself;
Well, in most things like itself,
For they all had that haggard carelessly drawn spherical shape,
Showered with burning brown, red and yellow,
And the dark hats, a vestige of parenthood,
Made them look like brothers.
But it just didn’t look the same!
The paleness plaguing its pelt,
The gayness around seemed to stay off it,
Though the concentration of joy and beauty around
Should have diffused directly through
The fibrous coat, to hit the core;
It just didn’t fit!
Could it be a fall-out of the prejudicial lighting,
Which threw shades through each kernel’s space
From the dim candle lighting up the room’s face,
Giving the weird spheres flickering weirder airs?
No. It was just that this horrid sight
Was wrought by warms eating right through its coat
Causing decay: poor thing.
The beast burst out of the earth; birth of horror,
So bright white in colour, but for the horror you’d think it’s god,
I shuddered and cursed, my neighbours stuttered then turned.
My soul gutted by fear and in turn I turned and fled faster than Roadrunner.
Saw the others ahead and I’s tailing in the rear!
I wish I was a Ferrari to change gear and go faster than Schumacher!
But the creature came nearer at every step I dared
Till I hit a rock and landed flat on my bed.
All sweating! Phew! What kind of dream had I just had?
Anyway, I closed my eyes and in a few minutes was back to dreaming:
Colourful scenery, all covered in greenery
No more screaming…what’s that over there grinning?
Uh oh! It’s back to screaming, somebody call for help oh!
Before a young boy lose his life in a bone-filled blood pool
‘Cos those teeth I see below those eyes filled with greed
Could chew a Cat tractor; go figure what’ll do to me!
I run some more, but I’m running on my knees!
I see why I’ve been slower than Kanye on a beat,
And why my life chance are looking slimmer than Chantal Ayiss’
But as the jaw was about to close on me, my eyes opened and you bet I’m not falling back asleep!