Armand Poetry

Welcome to Armand Poetry. The poems (and other words) here are composed for my own thought and amusement. Comment and discussion are welcome. -Amore, Armand-

Sunday, March 20, 2005

End Game

The little ones are more important than you would think
They provide the structure that controls the center
I have been told that it is all about controlling the center

So here I am, those four squares are mine
Two by occupation and two in threatened emptyness
Now comes the trouble, now is when I begin to lose

A tit-for-tat that seems equitable on the surface
The attrition of my nobility, no gambit of fools
Until only the little ones are left to protect me

2 Comments:

  • At 2:11 AM, Anonymous William T.S. "Shecky" Methuselah said…

    Things fall apart
    The center cannot hold,
    I grow old and become an old fart
    And wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled.

    (a combined effort by Yeats, Eliot, and Myself, together once again)

     
  • At 11:30 PM, Anonymous Noam "Ol' Blue Eyes" Chomsky said…

    ALTERNATE VERSION (Poet's Cut)
    Things fall apart
    The center's almost gone,
    I grow old and become an old fart--
    Hey you kids get off my lawn!

     

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