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You ought to know better! they criedOught to know better than what? I repliedKnow better than what I already know instead?Instead of what you do not really know I know?"Knowing better" makes me think you think you already know betterWhich makes me think you think you think you're better But you're no better...No better than those who have only yet to know better those who now know no better those who could know better those who will know better You ought to know better! they saidOught to know better than who? I pleadKnow better than you? Can't be...Or you wouldn't see how much more I "ought" to knowSo... know better than "them"?To make me better than them? Does a baker know dough better? Does an Eskimo know snow better? Do Vietnamese know pho better?What we know makes us no better "Ought to know better... why?!" I scream So my rhymes flow better? So my skills show better? So my.... *sigh* ... ...steam blows better? Ah! So my mind grows better! But it does that alone on it's own without all that "ought" all that struggle for naught always stuck in deep thought So, you see, I do know better... ... I know better than to "ought"

CAT-AND-MOUSE I turn off the bedside lamp, slide ON the switch of the wireless hub, then pull the neural-net cap over my head. Adjusting the pillows and pulling the sheets over me, I get comfortable and settle down. Feeling for the small plastic pimple just behind my earpiece, I press the activator and stare into the darkness of my room. Connected. White noise creeps in over the buds in my ears. A crackle now. And again. I close my eyes and immerse my perception into the aural gray. Modulated blobs form and float in the static. Patterns bob to the surface and the dissonance becomes marbled with harmonic filaments. Static and signal cooked together on hot bandwidth congeal into a sonic egg drop soup – in an inexplicable sensory-coupled reflex, I breath in deep, part my lips and gently sigh, smiling. I cast my attention for a low rumble. “Down” and “in the distance,” I barely detect it. By listen-focusing, I can “dive and swim” toward the source. Subtle concentration tunes my purring target into a distinct indicator… a body, a familiar format. My tongue flicks the tooth trigger and the cranial interface issues a POSSESS request – I’m prompted for owner and password crypts. A pause. Then, a welcoming “mew.” I’m in. Before I start, I link back for some custom coding scripts to augment my avatar routine. I sip the afferent information fresh off the Ether. They are fetch-dropped into flash memory of the local controller node I just rebooted. Ahhh… new programming. I am reborn as my cat-bot. Lifting my eyelids activates ocular enhancements. A sepia landscape of harsh lines, angles and surfaces flickers in and the scene slightly undulates. Simulated moonlight dances through oscillating tree-branch projections on the LCD panes of the kitchen windows and casts pseudo-shadows over the countertops, cabinets, and floor. A pulsing red indicator jumps to life in the lower right of my peripheral vision. My vision snaps toward the flashing alarm and I blink rapidly twice to activate the Heads-Up-Display. A translucent, viridian, 3D floor plan is quickly etched-erected in the space before me. I blink twice again. The HUD overlays the view in infrared. Three small, red phantoms with orange-yellow auras float into view just outside the mirage house. A double wink again and the glowing ghosts are replaced with little, grey-brown, wire-frame globules with tails. Yellow bubbles over each of them labeled them as mus musculus. The text was underlined – indicating a link for details – and followed by a flashing yellow “87%” likelihood index. I vector over to a motion activated port located at the base of the minor domicile exit used by the Overlords. A polyurethane plate slides to the side as it recognizes my radio-fingerprint emitted by my collar. A quick right out the door and then a sprint for the corner, stopping short before tumbling out into the open. I slowly look around the corner, toward the trash bins and see nothing. I query my audio dishes, but have to cancel out the A/C unit and street traffic. I hear amplified stirrings from inside the big plastic rubbish bin. I slowly and quietly creep over to the base of the bin. I can see the lids are ajar – enough for the mice to get in, but not enough to make it an unstable landing zone. I grip the controls in the fists of my cybernetic gloves and press POUNCE. Pneumatic tubes hiss as I launched upward. Disaster strikes. Mid-flight my LAG indicator pegs red… In the bedroom next door, my older sister plugs in her Pay-Pal e-chip with her newly credited allowance. Without the courtesy of checking the bandwidth utilization of our house LAN, she initiates a parallel download purchase for all 14 tracks of the latest release by her favorite boy band. Then she leaves her screen unattended! Just to go adjust tomorrow’s pigment routines for her subcutaneous, programmable tattoos? I’m paralyzed, the video feed stays jerks in bursts and my attention is jolted. Virtual hiccups. The Wait… box keeps flashing into view as my sisters’ Y!-Pod hogs the ‘Net pipe. I yell out, “Wuthafuck, you goddam noob! Kill that transfer!” and helplessly watch the telemetry of my cat-bot’s flight flash-update my vision like some old-school PowerPoint presentation. I pray that the auto-pilot feature is not buggy and lands the bot on its feet like advertised. Or there goes my allowance. After her spouting about some ‘fair-and-equal’ rule supposedly imposed by Mommindad, she pauses her ghey download. But too late - the frickin mice were already all over my cat. They’ve ganged up and already had it teetering over the edge. And laughing. Kyle-D, hyJax, and 1337-l0rd are already trash chatting me on the priv-channel about how I suxorz and how their ninja-mice roolz. “GG NO RE THX” Good game, no rematch, thanks indeed. They’ll be begging again tomorrow night because I EMP’d the trash bin as a backup. Sure some call it cheating, but it was three-on-one.

Have you heard about Poets and Writers of Chess.com's Open Mic Knights? Check out the invitation by clicking here! We have a great bunch of starters and the list (at the bottom over there) is growing each hour, it seems! I'm reposting the news here and the list of participants to make it easy to find all these threads in one ease sticky post. Here's a mirror-list I'll try to keep current, but that News post will serve as the main. Open Mic Knights: Prose Knights Here now, are our participants... Let's put our hands together and give them a warm welcome! Writch's Prose Knight (an example) - A playful piece called Scalding - a kid's stream of conciousness thoughts one early winter morning on the way to school. Kevindubrow's Prose Knight - A short story about whether somebody can ever be Never Wrong - never might be closer than you think! csharpe's Prose Knight - Feeding the Animals is the title of csharpe's serving of prose; its more food for thought than for their stomach. CapCloud's Prose Knight - A period piece of sorts, introducing a lineboy with vicarious Love. CapCloud's Prosey Encore - Cap, our resident anthropomorphist, seduces you with a little minxy OX-5 airplane. He didn't title it, so I'll call it DASH the Rules or Contact! (you all decide) Writch's (Intended) Prose Knight - Writch gives his impressions of a traditional Japanese ceremony on the beach. qu33nsgambit's Prose Knights (parts 1 & 2) - In a sneak-peek at her attempt, queensgambit introduces us to a mystery guest that shows up at a mental health facility. Don't worry! She supplied a link to more if just a sample is not enough.

Sent to me by From Kevindubrow. - Writch This was one of my first stories that I wrote of my own accord. I'm quite young, not in high school yet, but I have read since I was young(er). Without further ado... Never Wrong “Idiot girl. Now, I can take your queen.” Catherine remained silent. She always did when facing the, as her mother would put it, “prickly” master of the mansion in which she lived, along with her mother, a maid, and father, a chauffer lived in. Despite her parent’s humble career paths, she knew she was lucky compared to other black families. They lived well, with the food, living quarters, and health that most Americans in the 70’s had. Sitting by the fireplace now, she studied the elaborate chess board that Smithers, the retired owner of the third largest oil company in the world, had owned for countless years. Looking more closely now, she saw it. Of course. That seemingly helpless bishop was in fact just part of an elaborate trap to take her queen, and fork her two rooks. “I should have known,” Catherine thought as she got up to get Smithers a second cup of brandy. As far as she knew, Smithers never made mistakes. From Starting out as the owner of a gas station, to playing chess on winter nights, he did everything right. As Smithers drank deeply from his glass, he looked at Catherine down the bridge of his nose. “I swear, as long as I live, you will never beat me.” Catherine knew it was true. Suddenly Smithers made jerking movements. A heart attack. Panicking, Catherine franticly tried remembering something from the school she went to, but nothing came to mind. She watched, horrified, as he slumped to the floor. Catherine glanced at her watch. She and the rest of the staff and their families were listening to the reading of the will. She had gotten taller, as her mother kept telling her over her pictures from the year before, when Smithers had died. She had been letting her mind wander, wondering when it would be over. As far as she knew, Smithers was a cold, heartless man. Suddenly, she heard her name. "and for Catherine, an $100,000 college fund, you were the most intelligent person here, other than me." She started. Maybe, deep inside, Smithers was a caring person. "And I told you you would never beat me." Catherine frowned. Nope, cold and heartless.

http://proof.blogs.nytimes.com/2009/02/20/under-the-literary-influence/

http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=101034642&sc=nl&cc=asc-20090224 This should be fun. Rolef

ei8htWritch © 6/6/2002 I roll onto my stomach The sun warms my back and legs the ocean washes up, hisses eighteen feet from my ears A cloud passes over, shades drying the film of sweat from shaded sun with a cool breeze blowing softly eight knots over my back And when my skin starts to rise at the breeze slowly chilling the sun peeks out, soothes again eighty degrees on my skin A bug, a tiny beetle lands blown in from the breeze tangles into the hair of my forearm eight inches from my face Suspended, supported by my hair lying motionless on its back Is it too tired? Or basking too? eight inches from my nose Caressed by the sunlight black shell with bright white dots reflects the sun, stillness reflects tranquility eight inches from my eyes Another cloud, another cool breeze stirs him from its nap, taking leave drunk from the sun, struggling eight inches along my arm I close my eyes, drunk from the sun struggle onto my back, to bask entangled in tranquility, I snatch eight minutes from eternity

Do you find it hard to tell people what you really think of their writing? I mean, do you only share what you liked about a piece, leaving out anything that irked you? Of course, it's very important to be constructive and to suggest what might have made it better for you rather than just complain and point to what you don't like, but is it raining on someones parade to do anything but heap praise on their work? It takes alot of courage to post work for someone who, like me, isn't very adept or experienced at having their stuff on display. While I welcome any critique, and actually hope to hear what some of the people here have to say that might help me improve, Perhaps some people don't want to HAve to hear it? Should I be forcing people to hear what I think about their writing? After all they haven't specifically ASked for it. Or is it important to not let this group be just a mutual admiration society? If I've posted something about your story that upset you in the past, I am sorry. Keep in mind though that I only read stuff that I like - if It doesn't suit my taste I'll just stop reading and look at the next post. Alot of posts I don't even get to read. So If I have posted a critical message to you take heart , The fact that I took the time at all means I really dug what you had writtten !

In the spirit of contributing, I better start posting soe stuff. So here's a quick bit.

PEEK-A-BOOWritch © 6/3/2001 For the third nightI stayed awakeSighing in bedunable to sleep without you, SisI stared upwardat the ceilingto the slow fanI could not seebut knew was thereI thought of usbefore your birthwhen Mom held meand I held youin her pregnant bellyI’d sing Peek-a-boo I know you’re there I can feel you breathingMy mind drifts laterto when we’re kidsand slept like spoonsafter we playedhide-n-go-seekI’d say Peek-a-boo I know you’re there I can hear you breathingWhen we were teensin the winterbehind a treeyou’d sneak attackor at least triedI’d yell Peek-a-boo I know you’re there I can see you breathing Last week you diedbefore I came backa chance for good-byethe bed bends anda draft stirs... you?I whisper Peek-a-boo I know you’re there I can feel you breathing

I find that it is best to keep expectations low. Ouais C'est vrai Je sais Vous pensez Que je fais Plus mauvais.

Joined this group and have enjoyed reading a lot of the poetry on here. Thought I would submit one of my own for judgment as I have judged others. Am not sure if this poem is my best for public consumption; it was very personal and written for someone whom I knew would relate to the meanings but it was written quickly, a flow of raw emotion and because of that I like it. Jamie Pacific Beauty DeepLying cold Together we fit W/ Crystal shard eyes Vision of one A smell so intoxicating Narcotic in addiction Inside you know? Blind to, all eyes watching? Deaf to their song? All their words are yours Pacific beauty deep Sum of great battles Waging war for beauty Awaken all mens warrior Fighting, for you Listening to Sirens call Wrecking ships of dreams Throw myself, onto rocks? Pacific beauty deep

The official news letter of the Black Shield assassins is out and can be viewed at http://www.chess.com/groups/forumview/villantines-day-edition

Okay. This is my thread. I thought I'd put some of my poetry on here to see what other writers think.                                                  Sometimes Sometimes I think I hear my name being called out in the darkness When there is no one there.   Sometimes I think I hear someone whispering poetry in my ear When the only whisperer is the gentle wind.   Sometimes I think I hear words to a song ringing like bells in the air When my only company is the birds.   Sometimes I think I hear pages of a book being turned When there are only leaves falling gently to the ground.   Sometimes.                                              Emotions Happiness is the sun Peeping through the clouds.   Anger is lighting Going off when you least expect it.   Sadness is the rain, Tears falling from the eyes of weeping clouds.   Excitement is thunder Laughing for all the  world to hear.                                    American Flag The American Flag flies high like an eagle flying swiftly over mountains. It’s as proud as a soldier and as colorful as can be. It has stripes as red as fire and white as light as snow, blue with stars like a midnight sky. It waves in the sky like a friendly neighbor and moves as swiftly as the rain, falling on a dark day.                                        A Knock at my door                 You knock on my door,I don't want to answer. You knock on my door, I run and I hide. You knock on my door, asking for forgiveness. You knock on my door, you say you are sorry. You knock on my door, by opening I forgive.                                         Every RoseEvery rose is beautiful,reds and pinks and yellows. Every rose has petals,delicate and soft. Every rose is unique,Each petal and leaf different. Every rose has its thorns,nothing is perfect.                                       Fierce WonderingsHow do the stars know when to shine?How do the ants know to march in a line?Who tells the birds when to fly south?Who tells a crocodile to use its mouth?When do the fish get taught how to swim?When do the stars start to grow dim?                                         PoemI clasp my pen,a powerful weapon.I bring it to paper,a powerful move.I make a long stroke,a beautiful line.I write this poem,a beautiful sight.                                          MollyTears fall, endless, merciless. Staining my life forever.  Hugs given, long, tight. Being close one last time.  Hands waving, slowly, sadly. Waving as you leave.  I say goodbye to you.                                                 LovingI love the way the rain falls,love the way the grass grows,love the way the trees sway.I love the way the thunder rumbles,love a flower's petals,love the falling snow.I love the clear blue skies,love the sun's bright rays,love the way you love me,each and every day.                                        I Dream a DreamI dream a dream tonight,of happy times,sunny skies,happy faces.But only when you're with me.I dream a dream tonight,of soft eyes,loving eyes,caring eyes,your eyes.But only when you're with me.I dream a dream tonight,of terrors,of monster,of evil,but only when I'm alone.                                        Promises DemiseTears fall down,Endless rain,On a life.Endless tears,falling from pained eyes,Staining lives,Promise's demise.Happy moments,come and go.My love,My dear,Save me from shedding another tear.Promises demise. I look into your eyes,and I know that you are true,But things can change. Promises demise.                                                 In a Dream Dreams are calling,Night is falling,Day is far,it seems like we are,in a dream,in a dream,dreading waking, dreams forever,in a dream,in a dream.                                       I will be with you Every time a rain drop falls,Every time the thunder calls,Every time the rain falls down,I will be with you. Every time you see the sun,Every time it seems life is done,Every time you cry for help,I will be with you.                                              Tears on a LifeTears stream,endless mercless,falling,falling to a depth,into a life,staining frindship,staining lives.  So that is some of my poetry. Please tell me your favorites! Here is some things I wrote. They're just to make you think.                                     Deep ThinkingIf we were all kind,If we were all truthfull,If we were all dreamers,If we were all lovers,If we all cared,Do you think we'd have war or diesieses?Do you think pollution would end,Or that all of mankind's problems would be solved? If we were all united,Spoke the same,Learned the same,Lived the same,Would life be just right?Would mankind be able to able to accomplish everything?                                      If you died todayIf you died today would you have any regrets? Any let downs? Any wishes? If you died today would you want to re-do things to change things? To save things? Would you want to see some one, one last time. If you died today every thing would be lost. So think about every thing you do today. Make it count, make it last, make a difference in your childrens, co-workers, or friends life.                                                   Chess Chess is an out reach of knowledge; a way to learn and seek wisdom by being competitive but wise. A chance to show where you are in the world and to see what others can do. A chance to see what you can do.     So learn and grow and have fun by playing chess.                                    Thinking about Chess If you really thing about it chess isn't just a game. It's some peoples life. I'm not saying to act like if you lose a chess game it's the end of the world but what I mean is that Chess has a flow to it like music cascading across a page. It's a thrilling leaning tool that has made millions of people satisfied.    Chess  isn't that hard either. You just need to get into the flow of winning or losing but stretching your mind to new heights. Join the River of Chess.

at the end of the daythe cardinal rayslike focused laserspoint to the sunnow bald and burning on the precipice of the worldpromise to kill the lightthreaten to deliver the nightthe sun dons aplatinum blonde wig of clouds slinks over the edge of the worldpast the point of caringshe's well before us(and is, well... behind us)can do nothing to stop heror do anything to change her mindshe can end this day of ours... quietlyor wait for sorties of words airstrikes of prose poetic clusterbombs how did it startby bringing somethingdown... down... and downtrapped by a stereotypestyled by a magic wand of mysteryswirled by a not-girl, a not-homea not-herknotted herentrapped or empoweredor empowerment shortagea rolling electrical comashorted out by her misogynist homophobehellbent for helpless hotties hot dishes... hot plates... that I never gotsigning the powersfelt she was saying"I told you so"her phallic penstuck out at mecome home to findmy lifestyle strippedfor firewood, for kindlingthe looting had begunplease take this male sacrificewant to her to see we aren't all scumbagsjust want to be relievedjust want the power backneed to feel normalbut nothing isor ever will beagain

Hi, this is my first entry with this group, somthing I wrote awhile ago. Enjoy, and please tell me what you think! :) The Rhythm Under the Skin He stared up, his eyes fixated on what he thinks is the ceiling, but the room is dark, so he cannot be sure. The bed on which he lays is hard and unforgiving, but is still better than the concrete floor. He breathed deep on the air that smelled like iron and rain. He could not move, but nor did he want to, for he was in perfect bliss with the room. It started to rain. He could tell from the noise coming from the high window. He likes rain. He closed his eyes, preparing to sleep when he heard scuttling from far end of the room. He was not afraid. He felt no fear in his utopian room. It came closer. He grew calmer. The rain turned into soft thuds on the stone walls. He felt the vibrations from the thing scuttling up the leg of his bed. It began to crawl up under his pant leg and up, it’s eight hairy legs making a soft rhythm on his bare chest. It stopped at his neck. Many more, smaller, eight legged fiends began crawling through the window, for the soft thuds was them falling from the sky. They all crawled onto every bare inch of skin, making him a coat of arachnids. He smiled and opened his mouth, as if he was inviting them into his body. They obliged. They poured into him from every opening. They went in his mouth, through his ears, and under his eyelids. They crawled around under his skin, and he enjoyed the massage their legs gave him under the skin in his arms, head, legs, and chest. They all stopped and began chewing their way out from the inside. He laughed. He awoke with a start, breathing deeply. He finally calmed down, and fell back to a deep sleep. As he slept, a lone spider crawled up his neck and into his ear to weave a web of mischief in his subconscious.

http://www.nytimes.com/2009/02/01/books/review/Gottlieb-t.html Thought I would post this here in case some might of missed it. Rolef

I was wondering, The black shield assassins are launching their newsletter soon. Anyone interested in contributing any articles to it..can be anything from poetry,essays, issues (chess related),jokes etc..please post here..

Pulling at the scabbardThe protective barkForwards; And backwardsExposing the fragilityThe forest flesh EndureThe giving of growthAnd swelling of the bud; To pleasure pointWhere the eye opens;Comes:The desired breakthroughThe showered burst of flowery blossomSpread throughout the underbrushThe roots mineralThe sappy seedReleased

MY LOVE THE PAIN IS YOURS BUT IT IS MINE TOO THE PAIN IS THROUGH THE STUFF WE DO WE SUFFER MORE THAN LOVE EACH OTHER CAUSE OUR LOVE WON’T LAST FOREVER MY DREADFUL FEELINGS ARE KILLING ME MY WORDS ARE EMPTY BECAUSE OF YOU YOUR GORGEOUS SOUL DOES NOT DESERVE THE PUNISHMENT I’M GIVING IT BUT LET ME TELL YOU MY LASTING LOVE I’LL STAY MY FEELINGS TO NOT BE FILLED BECAUSE MY FRIEND YOU DON’T NEED TO BE WITH ME IN MY RESTING GRAVE BELIEVE OR NOT I LOVE YOU MUCH BUT IT WON’T HAPPEN, OCCUR TO US AND NOT BECAUSE OF TIME AND SPACE BUT CAUSE OF MY DEMOLISHED WORLD DON’T BE SAD ABOUT MY SOUL I DON’T DESERVE TO DO THAT, SO LET ME BE ALONE IN THIS FAREWELL PARTY, I’M GIVING YOU A KISS I’LL KEEP THE MEMORY OF YOU FOREVER BUT LET YOUR MIND TO VANISH MINE BE WELL AND HAPPY WITH SOMEONE ELSE TOGETHER BECAUSE I’M NOT A PERSON OF YOUR KIND THE PRICE I’LL PAY IS ONLY MINE I’LL TAKE YOUR PAIN WITH ME AWAY AND LET MY KISS BE THE ATTAR DIME I’M GIVING YOU IN THIS LAST DAY