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Caissa, The Chess Lord.

Lord, I play three hundred hours of chess,
indeed, Lord, in thirty days more or less.
I have done my best under gruelling stress,
Yet I'm not happy with my snailing progress.
Yes, Lord. Caissa, to you I sadly do confess:
my constant losing has put me in distress.
I beg of you, Lord, Caissa, help me to re-assess
so I can beat those who keep me in this mess.
Lord, with your blessing and your skills I guess
I would always win and so powerfully aggress,
that all my opponents would humbly express:
hark here cometh the unbeatable king of chess.

This poem is dedicated to all
female chessplayers on Caissa's Web.

Sweet Caissa

Oh, Sweet Caissa, Goddess of chess
in the name of this holistic game
I pray Thee: bless my noble aim
to render all my opponents lame
in my holy quest for worldly fame,
to be Supreme no more no less.
In awe I heard this Sweet Caissa say
"Daughter go forth and smite them all,
stoutly charge your knight sitting tall
while flying over the castle's wall
to slay all men in your deadly call."
Now in fear I hide and will no longer play.

This poem is dedicated to
Peyton, Wizard Number 1 in chess
and true magician in poetry no less

Nova's Silent Prayer

Caissa, before Thee stands the erring little nova
who wandered far and wide till rejected by Jehovah
with downcast eyes he offers Thee a barrel of wine
which will turn Thine winking eyes inte a woozy shine.
Yet all he wants is but some real consideration
from the subjects in the Realm of Thine creation
and this tiny favor that will put him in elation:
to render perfect all his scripted chess notation.

This poem is dedicated to all members
who strive to become Masters of chess.

yakisoba's combination

in the middle of a cold Canadian winter night
a phantom creature was riding a stallion knight
but lo and behold it is the man called yakisoba
together with a bishop and queen chasing nova.
though the old bishop was getting pooped out
the merry queen in her glory was bouncing about
while riding hard yakisoba grinningly thought
"I know what to do with that nova when caught."
there on top of the castle was nova in hiding
strapped to a kite for a quick get-away gliding,
then trembling he realized to his consternation:
he was being killed by the bishop-queen combination.

This poem is dedicated to Alex,
son of Lisa and John (SNOWBEAR).

The Cry of Snowbear's Son

Loyal subjects, hear ye hear ye all
The king's bishop invites you to a ball
The pawns,black and white are welcome too
merrily we'll dance the whole night through.
Snowbear's cry can be heard in this wintery night:
go dog go fetch me that wild white night
who will with wit and charm lead the queen
away to his private pasture, so heavenly green.
Later that year the night kept prancing about
not looking well nor feeling so manly stout
then suddenly he knew he need no longer wait
as he heard his new born son loudly cry "checkmate".

This poem is dedicated to Chris Hadlock (CLH)
who gathered 20 rating points
while this poem was being composed.

Rating is Naught but a Number Thing

Said the black pawn flirtingly to the white queen,
"Let me capture you so my needy master can hurry about
Gathering more rating points to increase his worldly clout".
Moving swiftly she asked "rating what does that mean"?
Behind the castle's wall a snichering knight replied.
"It's a number thing proclaiming who has the greater skill
In manoeuvring us about at our witty master's will
But the truth of this number thing by many is becried.
Some masters blow up their little size as they sing
While others make themselves look smaller than small.
For hidden reasons tall is small and small is tall.
But all in all rating is naught but a number thing."

This poem is dedicated to PhillA, who
sparked off the seed for this poem.

The Stark Naked King

When the challenge arrived from the ax wielding Philla
"I must hurry and offer a bribe to his queen,thought nova,
to avoid a merciless onslaught ending in bloody gore".
Alas, the challenge had been secretely sent the day before.
There he stood with ax and all at the castle's gate,
While teasingly sending in a not-so-holy bishop as bait.
High on the castle's wall nova bellowed: dump the boiling oil,
To force the ax-man with his troups to screamingly recoil.
To no avail, Philla hurled his castle straight upon the king,
Who standing stark naked, tried to hide his private thing.
So nova quickly conceded out of shameful desperation
and Philla gently lowering the ax accepted nova's resignation.

This poem is dedicated to Harris
my chessplayer friend and literary commentator.

Chess The Final Metaphor

It was in a cesspool behind the place of his cousin Nick
That in this pool of sewage, was born the freak called frick.
On dark nights he hysterically wailed in his pool of slimy mess:
"Oh why oh why, can't I play the game that humans call chess"?
As the morning sun rose, begged the queen of the mighty king:
Sire, can you not order the death of this aweful filthy thing"?
Wisely he replied: "no, I'll let frick live forever in distress
While he must watch others enjoy themselves playing chess."

This poem is dedicated to all members
who have experienced the breaking of a gentleman's agreement.

He Know No Honor

Now in yonder obscurity live a bishop called Pork
his tognue protruding like a two-pronged fork.
He say: nova dear, I will play you thirty/thirty
then he quickly run, I say: that be little dirty.
This Pork he say; sweet nova please grant me tie
upon my honor as a holy man I do never lie.
He say: nova dear: I will play you thirty/thirty
but he quickly run: I say that be more than little dirty
to Pork this kindly nova say: I grant you draw
as Pork's time in present game all but gone he saw.
he say: dear nova, I will play you thirty/thirty
as he quickly run: I truly say that be fricken dirty.
now always loudly to this Pork I shall tell
no more play me but evil one who live in hell.

This poem is dedicated to all Caissa's members
who understand that chess is but a game.

Chess is but a Game

As he secretly rode his knight out of the castle's gate,
still believing that he could escape this inevitable fate,
the sky broke open with an array of incredible light.
and there smitten to the earth lay nova under his knight.
I am who I am and always am, spoke this thundering voice
and you, my friend nova, do not at all have another choice
but to go forth south and north, west and east
loudly proclaiming the good Word to man and beast.
Thus beset by the compelling voice from the broken sky
nova set about explaining through the word the how and why.
He travelled north and south, west and east never losing aim
to let all Caissa's members know: chess is but a game.

This poem is dedicated to all Caissa members
who believe in positive statements and actions.

The Ten Commandments of Chess

Thou shallt not break any agreements you make.
Thou shalt not bribe the queen with a sexy fake.
Thou shallt not booze with pawns in all-night fling.
Thou shallt not desire intercourse with an aging king.
Thou shallt not curse any bishop be he black or white.
Thou shallt not for deviant reasons capture a knight.
Thou shallt not pee high up from the castle's wall.
Thou shallt not kick the king's balls no, not at all.
Thou shallt not waste precious time and let any one wait.
But thou shallt beat thy opponent and smilingly say checkmate.

This poem too is dedicated to all Caissa members
who still believe in positive statements and actions.

Modern Version of Ten Commandments of Chess

You must not be caught telling one lie upon another lie,
You must not be caught laying with the queen under the naked sky.
You must not be caught screwing around with an aging king.
You must not be caught boozing with pawns in all-night fling.
You must not be caught cursing bishops black or white.
You must not be caught for deviant reasons capturing a knight.
You must not be caught peeing high up from the castle's wall.
You must not be caught playing with the king's balls no, not at all.
You must not be caught wasting every one's time by letting them wait.
But you must be caught beating your opponent and smilingly say: checkmate.

This poem is dedicated to all Caissa members
who strongly believe in Freedom of Movement.

Chess Charter of Rights

Hear ye hear ye all in this great realm of our bewildered king, Free,
Who has stomped,peeled and bedrivelled this here very strange decree.
Which will soon if not later be delivered not so fresh from the press.
And hence will be known as the Charter of Rights in the game of chess.
You have the right to believe every tale no matter how small or how tall.
But you don't have the right to peddle your beliefs not at all not at all.
You have the right to the essentials of life if you know what I mean
But you don't have the right to screwing around with my loving queen.
You have the right to be here or there but you must always be somewhere.
But you don't have the right jumping around at will from square to square.
You have the right to move about only yes only on your master's indication.
And that in accordance to My Rules and your predestined move limitation.

This poem is dedicated to all Caissa members
who strive to checkmate their opponents.

The Aroused Bishop

Whispered the pawn to the curious knight
You jump one square up and two to the right
On the diagonal where our queen lays in wait.
I will move up from b-seven to b- eight.
On the opposite side,no,no screamed the queen
Realizing she should have been heard not seen.
Because there,only hidden partially by the walls
She saw him standing juggling his little balls.
The bishop so aroused by all of this inter-play
Could not,no he could not help but howlingly say:
Oh, oh sweet queen you are mine for the take
While your checkmated king will burn at the stake.

This poem is dedicated to all Caissa members
who believe in interfacing through chess.

Interfacing in Chess

Once upon a time a cute looking pawn dressed in white
met this handsome pawn all in black on her very far right,
Falling instantly in love she uttered with a gasping cry:
"Oh how can I be sure that he beyond doubt is truly a guy"?
A seemingly holy bishop who devotly was praying near by
whispered to her:"begin by getting a hold of that fly,
stroking it gently untill the eyes become wide and bright
telling you: let me go let me go on my maiden flight."
But the pawn in silky white seeing the bishop's leering stare
knew this unholy prick wanted to lay her right there.
So in desperation she ran to the pawn in black with this plea:
"My love,if you have balls you will kill that lecher for me".

This poem is dedicated to all Caissa members
who do not believe in dragging a game on and on.

The Pawn Who Had to Go

The little pawn screamed:"I cannot hold it any more,
get me a pot or I will do exactly what I did before."
Everybody laughed with the exception of the opposing king
who guessed what was on the mind of this filthy thing.
But nobody had time to fetch a pot or even a plastic bag
They were too busy to ensure that the game became a drag.
The guys in white kept running back and forth but no change.
The guys in black stayed also within the very same range.
Suddenly the unhappy pawn who had screamed for a pot,
did a weird little dance while moving up one slot.
Now standing near the king he simply pulled his pants down
and peed straight up against the king's beautiful crown.

This poem is dedicated to all Caissa members who understand
the difference between Free Speech and Slander.

Da Rights of Da Dirty Man

This poem is dedicated to all Caissa members
who believe in global citizenship.

The Global People

Spoke the stuttering but curious pawn to his most honorable king:
Sire, are we Canadians, Americans, Europeans or some other thing?
Before his Highness could respond all the bishops replied in one voice:
We are the authentic Global People freely united by our common choice.
But your Holinesses stuttered the curious pawn does that mean:
all of them belong to us and to the opposing king and queen?
Yes, said one bishop but they are not at all real you know.
We only use them to move us the Global People to and fro.

This poem is dedicated to all
Caissa members who are the Silent Majority.

The Silent Majority

Spoke the silent pawn to the opposing queen:
Your master is a filthy man and also very mean.
He does naught but curse and foulmouth my gentle master.
Your king ought to punish him real fast if not faster.
because we are all tired of his filthy ranting and raving.
We want to play chess which is our gift and inborn craving.
But if he is allowed to continue to act like a filthy prick,
we'll catch him and drown him in the cesspool with frick.
Replied the queen smilingly though in a very loud voice:
Fear not silent majority because that is also our choice.
So it came about,that one could hear in the deep of night
an inhuman scream of the filthy man who died slowly of fright.

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