Chess Game

A Game of Chess

I

Two armies gathered Opposing one another Across a checked field. Equal in number and strength, They were determined To destroy the other and bring victory Back to the castle, to kill the king The holy father of the foe nation And bring his crowned head home, Without its body.

Two armies gathered, the kings and their queens Assisted by holy men and men on horses, All protected by heavy forts and lines of men, Peasants in uniform ready to seize the field And slay whomever should come in their way.

The White King was confident, feeling That he could see clearly his enemy and that They were paralyzed with fear, He moved first, ordering his loyal men, Peasants one by one down the line With simple spears, ready to clear the way So that the queen herself might ride Into the heat of battle and cast a spell with the holy men, To sire a potion for victory.

Two armies sat across from one another, One now advancing, the other holding firm, Letting a stream of peasants move across a field, Ready to let a force of its own ebony armed men Begin to march and stop the first move.

II

The first move was finished, the White king Sat back in his tent, raised a goblet to victory And called on the goddess’ help. His back turned, he failed to see his advance stopped, By the followers of the Black king.

Another line was sent, and again It was stopped, a few bodies remained on the ground While the forces were frozen in place.

The White King pulled at his beard, Arranged his moustache upright, He was ready to battle the wind. To his knights he rode his horse, They found one another and he sent them Flying high over the peasants with a leap Landing out in the battle, with swords up high Ready to drive back the peasants on foot.

White Knights in beautiful robes, Rode down the field, advancing and moving To the side with every push towards the battle. From afar they could be felt, their scream And the breath of their horses drove the peasants back, Until more of them arrived and the knights, Once they came to the center of the field, Held firm in their place as they saw a wave of spears About to break forth.

III

She bade him not to leave, The White queen, Pure and chaste as her love, Ran before the tent Lay a wreath on his ears And proclaimed him prince of peace.

But the knight, his tin armor Shining, laughed, Her way was not his, There was glory to be had And to sit behind a row Of pawns and let them Soak up the enemy’s blood, That was hell for him.

The sun, it smiled down A let its teeth shine for him, He kissed his queen’s picture In a locket swinging on his chest, His horse was friendly The field was verdant, Filled with tall flowers He picked one for his lady And it pricked him, A drop of blood flew south On the skin of his beast.

A hundred blossoms Stood between him And a line of pawns, He leapt over all them Leaving their petals To sway in the breeze That he made for them.

He had that laughter Which pierced into the enemy, Reaching into their hearts Before his sword did, He grinned underneath his helmet, Returned to the sun its smile And set out to carve a row of peasants Into the black earth where He felt they belonged.

IV

His dark hat pointing upward, The ebony pontiff gathered in The faithful, his people, As the sun was setting.

A few fallen comrades Were placed before him Coins in their eyes A ditch was made A final trench to defend.

His hands were firm They held the armor and spears Useless now for the deceased, And he gave them to the living, Distributed a war communion That promised glory to those Who could ride out and run out To slaughter the enemy and let Themselves absorb blows

And arrows coming to earth, The Bishop sang A low voice that shook The vultures in the trees And sent them away.

You who today march Will one day be still And sleep with your ancestors, When you are there, What will you tell them, What song will you sing?

Only the heroic Who died in time On the battlefield Or who survived And served Have their lives In tune.

V

He screamed, And they surrounded, A womb of steel blades, He was safe, No one would get to him.

A flame rose, From inside he lit Sticks and warded off The cold.

The smoke was seen By the Whites Who marched up the hill.

They were drips of paint, Falling From the King’s brush.

They were in love with the queen.

His Black armor set aside, In his chain mail suit He rested and ate Slicing a pear with a knife.

The Whites closed in and broke through, But the Black Pawns regrouped, They stepped on the throats of the dead And threw spears through men’s hearts.

A tide of men pushed forward Shoved itself through the lines, The white pawns falling like snow. One was slain and when he fell He touched the shoulder of the knight. The knight shuddered, a filthy finger Had pressed its oils onto his armor.

VI

His vision cut into squares By the ramparts looking for a sign, The White King waited, His nose and eyes bulging, Hanging over the side of the stone Trying to see through Who was winning and which mass Of pawns was advancing, And which was falling.

She was gone, having left Comfort behind the walls. He could see her leaving, In a white gown and horse, A cloud drifting through fog. His back was held By the stone and he Was happy.

Now the pawns were gone, now The knights were in battle, now The holy men were praying And trying to heal the fallen.

The tower was too high He could not see Who was still moving.

Yet he was on top, Switching places With the guard inside. In the royal tent, There was a line of sight Straight to the heat of battle, From where a black pawn, Could see him and take aim.

The White Queen refused To be away from her knight, She said it was for her people.

He dragged her up, Halfway, She broke from his grip and fled, And now he was up on the top Of the tower, leaning and pacing, Hearing someone scream, Someone bleed, but who?

VII

The Black Queen danced on her square The White Queen danced on hers Together they stood, side by side, Ready to tread and discover, Who was the weaker.

The Black Queen, she danced With her hands in the air shaking Bracelets that rung around her arms, She made music with her jingle And the White Pawns, all they could do Was move in single file dancing.

Her body sang its own song, Ching-a ling a ling ching a ling a ling Ching a ling a ling ching! Ching-a ling a ling ching a ling a ling Ching a ling a ling ching!

The Castle of the White King, Both of its proud towers, They too were forced to sway, The jingle was so gentle, so soothing It seduced them brick by brick.

With her hairs spread out, The White Queen played them Like a harp, and she danced her dance, Her porcelain legs springing to life Moving up and down, She made the Black Pawns fall back, Unable to stand the brightness.

And the Black pawns danced in Their blindness, caught up In the sound of the White Queen, Fa-fa la-la-la fa-fa la-la Fa-fa la-la-la fa-fa la-la But the Black Queen went on dancing.

She stepped inside the square of her enemy, And the two of them circled one another, Some claimed to see them spread wings, Flying back and forth, throwing orbs of light Right at one another until the White Queen, She stopped dancing, and then fell.

But a line of pawns, in white shields and hats, Began to chant, Fa-fa la-la-la fa-fa la-la Fa-fa la-la-la fa-fa la-la Moving spears and lips together, They marched on the Black Queen, Who stood over the body of their King’s wife.

She tried to flee, but still her body Kept making a music of its own as she moved To try and get away from the angry chorus, She could not hide, her cloak of invisibility Was pierced by the sound she kept making.

Across the field they followed her listening, Ching-a ling a ling ching a ling a ling Ching a ling a ling ching! Ching-a ling a ling ching a ling a ling Ching a ling a ling ching!

The Black Queen could make it slow or fast, Loud or very soft, but the rhythm never left her, And neither did the chant, Fa-fa la-la-la fa-fa la-la Fa-fa la-la-la fa-fa la-la

She ran into the line of her own men, They were a solid line of armor, Hiding behind shields placed together, They were a wall of steel unbending.

She banged on the shields to be let in, She banged in her rhythm, but the soldiers slept And stayed behind their iron, they thought Her blows were from an enemy, And thought themselves brave and wise For not letting her in.

Her fist banged on the shields, banged on the shields, They were hard, she banged Banged on the shields, banged on the shields Screamed and they rang.

The white pawns they sang out they sang out and they ran, With their swords up and their mouths wide and then they sang, Fa-fa la-la-la fa-fa la-la Fa-fa la-la-la fa-fa la-la They took the Black queen and cut her head cut her head they did, Threw the body through the shields and with the head they hid.

VIII

I hear the whispers of the dead, They are calling out the names Of anyone who can come And ease their pain, the names That belong to their mothers Who they are coming to again A second time, emerging Into the other world To be coddled in their arms.

Out amongst the fallen I feel safe, None of them see me as an enemy, Or a friend, I am one left behind. Out on the field there are no sides, It is checkered with blood, The I can imagine to be made Of different swirling colors, Each corpse marks a piece of earth And claims it for his king, But all I see is grass, green and amber, Coated in crimson and black.

IX

Seeing his lady on the field, He mounted his horse, And broke the line of steady pawns.

He had no trouble finding the body, She lay in state, clothed in white, Among the grass which was wet with dew.

The king in his castle, Alone and at the top, Paced along the ramparts.

His horse stopped before her, A glowing image Scared both of them.

With brave legs and hands, He got down and touched her, Feeling her cold skin softly.

The Black Knight mounted his horse Torn through the field filled with dead And arrived before his White companion.

Tears fell down the mourner’s face, Rolling off his cheeks and flying Down to mingle with the dew.

He imagined her still breathing, Merely pretending, possibly sleeping Anything other than dead.

Two pairs of swords met, A gray cloud went up As their armored bodies spun.

In a violent dance, the haze Was broken by the beams of the sun Jumping off the blades of the two men.

The flash of light sprung From blade to blade As one went up and the other down.

It stopped once one blade, the Black knight’s, ran smooth with blood, And the cloud faded away.

The White Knight and the White Queen Together on the field of battle, The Black Knight lord of the checkered field.

A mitre peered up over the hill and Into the glen ran the holy man, Who was ready to cast a spell.

His staff glowed and he sent a ray Of green light into the Knight’s heart, He took his helmet off, suffocating.

Green became his skin, green Became his eyes, and his hair Started to fall from his head.

The bishop brought the knight Down to the ground and he soon Melted into the grass leaving his iron.

He knelt to say a prayer, but the horse Of the White Knight, desperate for a rider Kicked him in the head and the mitre fell.

X

This is no land for victory, No one is left to cheer, no Chorus could be formed Out of the bones of the dead.

The living habitant and gather Around fires and count themselves An unholy census takes place To figure out who will be the last to go.

The Black King has his pawns, There is nothing between them, Soldiers and not subjects now, Ready for a share of the loot and glory.

We have raped the ground they say, The King ignore them, he hates the moon It reminds him of the eyes of his enemies Of the man who is pacing the tower.

In his castle he is safe, with books and tapestries To keep him warm and a fire, all to himself, His guard stands outside to face the cold And the hail of arrows, if they ever come.

He trusts them all and throws them A loaf of bread, a hunk of meat Down from his window So that they are looking up to him.

His mind is clear, no man’s words Confuse him. He is the architect Of the entire world before him No one is there to complain.

The lips that spouted hateful negations Have fallen silent, they kiss the grass And taste their own blood and the blood Of others, the King smiles for the first time

His lips breathe the smoke of the Black King’s fire.

XI

The foot solider, Servant to the king Last man standing Right on the left flank, Moved with fealty in his heart Towards the edge, Where the squares faded And the brown woods emerged.

He followed a glowing light Moving in the trees, Finding shelter behind branches.

The White Bishop saw Behind him the action taking place He ran diagonally across the field His mitre fell off and his head was bald Moving quickly like a wind.

The foot solider, pawn to the light Snapped fallen leaves in half Cut roots with his sword And arrived to see a crown Floating in the air. The King had told him, His Lord, This was what he was to take.

A scream rang out in the copses, As the peasant boy spun in the air, The crown on his head Grew golden hairs that read down Around his body, which was now curved Sporting hips and breasts, His cloak and dagger replaced, By a scepter, And a gown to which the refuse of trees Could not stick.

She the new queen emerged back on the field, And she stopped the Bishop in his tracks Ridding the Black King of the Meddlesome priest Who could not walk straight, only sideways, He begged for mercy but she granted none She was a magical being, Who sent spark from her eyes and hands Which opened up a portal beneath the holy man And sent him far away.

XII

Alone on the top, The king sings Of many things He cannot define.

New music fills his ears and he goes to it, It sings a hymn of royalty, of charm Feminine and clean, pure of heart Beating gold rhythms he must get to it Before the tune stops and once again The ring of his ears echoes off the stone walls.

He breaks down a door and pushes aside a guard, He hears a helmet falling down the staircase, A hollow metal sound winding down with him, The man should have put up more of a fight Through the galley to the chapel, and there He hears it again, the song of a queen, His queen, she wore his ring and sang in her room The night he came to her and buried her in silk sheets, Smothered her cries and drew her royal bloodlines To make sure he was the thief in the night, and That everything promised to him was true.

Nothing can stop his majesty, a secret doorway Is open and the stairs Taken, he ends up higher off the ground than he thought, But the music, He hears it and it warms his cheeks to the face of morning, And his eyes open.

On the marble portico, carved into the tower He stands above them all, A pond of black, an ink spill, they are not afraid A queen he has never met, but desired in the darkness Of the sounds swirling in his ear, is singing to him, Two pawns in White, hang like ghosts on both sides of him Shall he be pierced by a peasant, Shall his story be ruined by a woman? She smiles is finished and bows, the King understands.

Trapped, Now - Overturned,

The King is dead, The King is dead, Long live the King! Long live the King!