There are things I want to end, chiefly I want this song that’s been playing over and over in my head to end. With it’s dulcet tones and heavenly harmonies, too much of a good thing, why, yes I do think it is.
“You ready to go chief,” he asked with that smirk on his face.
I wasn’t, but I couldn’t say that, could I? We had to win. I couldn’t bear it, I couldn’t bear not seeing them smile at me, knowing that I had made everyone proud. And so I got my gear on, and I went to stand by the door.
“We go in, and we go in hard. Don’t be afraid of them. You hear me?”
“Don’t be afraid,” I repeated, in that soft, slightly-dead tone that meant I was lying.
“You piss out on me, you rabbit, you’ll never get this chance again.”
The chief looked at his watch. One minute has passed and all he could think of was his wife and his children at home while he sat and watched CBS “very funny”. This was the only chance he got to call his kids, and he was wasting it.
thats a hard one. i can only think of the chief of my towns police department. he’s the dad to someone i used to go to school with. when i think of that kid i think of all this drama that happened with him and how many problems he caused. its not fair though, because being the chief of the police department’s son, he got away with everything..and still does.
The chief number of love misunderstood,
A gift
And in this gift is the understanding,
In this gift is the relationship.
Oh My streaks of sun bleaching my skin white,
White as snow, He paints me.
There is no gift in permanence,
Only Compromise and trust.
The truths are patience.
Jocelyn
The cop at the middle of the street signaled at me as I drove by. Oh crap; I forgot, it’s coding day. I pulled over and rolled the window open. As he came up, I subtly waved a couple of bills folded neatly in half and asked, “What’s the problem, chief?”
He was a chief in the Coast Guard. He saved lives–countless lives–while hardly being able to tend to his own. Where’s the pay off in that? When is that ever fair? How can one have a family when one’s life becomes dedicated to the lives of others?
He was sad, most of the time. Lonely. But when he got to see his wife’s face again… he was that happiest man in the world.
I will never understand his devotion to his job. The hours upon hours he puts in at the office. The dark circles under his eyes or the almost fanatical obsession he has with tracking down a culprit.
But he is my boss, my leader, my role model. My chief.
And I will follow him to the ends of the earth.
Alexandra Bell
In general, there can be only one leader out in the plains, the great expanse of virgin land, unfettered by the drunken footsteps of the white man; this man has the vision to stay away from technology.
Michael
Chief among the reasons I have chosen this path are his blue eyes. They never wavered from mine as the world spun and we believed we were taking our final breaths. His eyes were the center of the world – the one thing that kept my soul from escaping the confines of my skin and drifting off into the ether.
Misty
Im in charge. not you. i know what i want. you dont. thats that. deal with. live with it. you dont control me like you used to. im not your puppet. youre not my master. i make my own choices. im the heading. im what i want to be. i broke free. no longer in your iron bars. i am free to choose. im free to be me
Mykah
the chief indian wannahockalugie was irritable because his son nemo left to work at mcdonalds.
Painted bodies against the trees
Flowing fluent through the breeze
Touched each other with loving ease
Left the waves beside the seas
Obeyed the leader in spite of strife
Chanting in ears “It’s not about life
The editor-in-chief never wrote me a letter; the one I received was automated. I never knew why I was always rejected. To be honest, I don’t want to know.
You think you’re a broken, rough Indian,
Living in tanned skin huts with your beaded things
You say you’ve seen famine and war paint.
You say you can beat the White Men with their muskets-
Beat them all like a dance drum-
But arrows fall short of the lead missile roaring to you
And your brown skin runs red like the campfire,
You still charge into the failing battle
But your mad horse eyes show fear.
Mara
Chief. Is that as in, well, that is to say. Cheif. In charge. It reminds me of Robert Brambilla. The 7th grade? Perhaps. He could not spell it. Like me now. He spelled it backwards. Cheif I before E, or something. He once had a party, I did not like it. I remember being made fun of.
tom
WHO IS MY CHEIF? A CHEIF IS IN CHARGE. A CHIEF HAS ALL THE RESPONSIBILITY. A CHIEF HAS TO MAKE QUICK DECISIONS AND STAND BY THEM. A CHIEF HAS TO THINK OF OTHERS AND THINK OF THE BIG PICTURE. AM I A CHIEF? DO I WANT TO BE FOLLOWED? I THINK I DO. WITH GOD’S HELP, I CAN LEAD IN A POSITIVE DIRECTION. I WANT TO BE THE TYPE OF CHIEF WHO MAKES GOOD DECISIONS AND WHO WARRANTS RESPECT FOR THE GOOD THINGS THEY DO. I HOPE THAT I CAN DO THAT AT SCHOOL, AT HOME, IN CHURCH AND IN LIFE IN GENERAL. I WILL ASK THE LORD TO GIVE ME HIS GRACE TO DO EXACTLY THIS…..I HOPE I AM NOT A CHIEF WHO LORDS OVER OTHERS OR WHO IS FOCUSED ON SELF RATHER THAN THOSE AROUND ME.
CONNIE JENNINGS
“Cheif?” He sheltered his eyes in the morning sun. “I don’t suppose we have to do anything, do we?”
The old man shrugged. “Not likely that’ll do much, that it’ll matter.” He grunted. “When she get’s a thing in her mind, that’s the end of that.”
“You think she’s wrong?”
“I don’t think she’s right!” The wizened sheriff scowled, it wasn’t the kind of an answer than someone should’ve gotten out of it, but is was more the matter of fact way that it shouldn’t have been an answered question at all.
Together, they watched the heroine of
AntAlta walk away.
chief of my own life
that’s what i’d like to be
but people have other plans
they rule my every move
or at least try to
lauren
I beg you, dear chief: please spare my children’s lives for they know not what they have done. The land between us is not marked as “restricted”, they violated our truce in ignorance, please accept my left hand as the symbol of our apology.
“Whatever you say, chief.”
He tousles your wispy hair, and your large eyes take in first the wry smile, then the half squint in his right eye. He bounces you on his knee, with an air indulgent and softened, while your small hands brush against his cheek. I don’t have words, I don’t have feeling, just an overwhelming fullness in my chest that I wish could be spoken, made concrete. My love, pink and cherubic and tangible, in his hands.
Had it not been for the McDonald’s arc above, towering like a neon XXX sign, signaling cheap bodily pleasure, he might have gone astray.
DMM
the day began with the chief of the local tribe, looking for wood to build a fire. you may think that in this time of our lives, maybe a servant, or younger man may be responsible to supply the colony with heat to cook. but no… after so many years of colonization, even the Indians must work harder, every day with no retirement or social security disability or ever food stamps. the Chief is tired. how tired are we? really? Hmph.
“what’s up chief,” the guy says as he walks by to fill up his seemingly endless coffee mug. “fuck off, dude,” is the only thing I have in my head. do I really have to do this again today?
White-Horse-Eagle was
Middle american chief
Betrayed reds to whites.
OSAGI no arimashita!!
yoi haiku!!!!
Kakushi
The man who ran the kitchen was harsh and a real pain in the ass. The men called him chief because he was the chief Sergeant, but also because his dark complexion made him look Native American despite that he was full Italian. Sweating over the pot of soup, he stirred the pot slowly.
Eric
Chief among my faults is that I, no wait that is number 7, Ah, okay, chief among my faults is how other people don’t…No that’s not right. Umh. I think that if I had not, no wait if I had… oh that’s it: indecision.
Hail looked down upon his fellows. He was their chief, their leader, their alpha. Each one of them was looking up at him and depending on him. Hail shivered, the motion passing from his nose to the tip of his tail. How could he make that decision? Was it possibly to be the chief, the alpha, they needed him to be?
Master boss leader mom people kids tyrant listen go
Susiecool21
I’m afraid of the future for what it holds–or, even worse, for what it doesn’t. Chief of my concerns is if I will be happy or merely stuck in a dead end job and dead end relationship in my dead end life. I’m trying to prepare myself for bitter disappointment (because honestly, dreams don’t come true), but I most certainly don’t hope it comes to that.
i am the chief commodore. only i have the power to make or break this dance. please, follow me into the dark and trust that i won’t get us lost for very long. just long enough for you to see that you love me, that you love each other. hold each others hands, waists, necks. make it count so we don’t lose each other in the end.
I gulp. Mother always warned me not to go into Indian Territory. I must have wandered in accidentally when I was gathering twigs for a fire. A boy with big dark eyes looks up at me. He runs away dropping the leaves he was collecting and shouting in his very odd dialect. I stop, frozen. The boy comes back with a tall, dark skinned man. He has paint all over his body and is wearing animal skulls and feathers. He must be the chief.
Police chief, fireman chief, Indian chief…
People of importance, of stature of knowledge.
Hmmm… this one is kinda hard, I’m stumped as to what I should write.
There are things I want to end, chiefly I want this song that’s been playing over and over in my head to end. With it’s dulcet tones and heavenly harmonies, too much of a good thing, why, yes I do think it is.
“You ready to go chief,” he asked with that smirk on his face.
I wasn’t, but I couldn’t say that, could I? We had to win. I couldn’t bear it, I couldn’t bear not seeing them smile at me, knowing that I had made everyone proud. And so I got my gear on, and I went to stand by the door.
“We go in, and we go in hard. Don’t be afraid of them. You hear me?”
“Don’t be afraid,” I repeated, in that soft, slightly-dead tone that meant I was lying.
“You piss out on me, you rabbit, you’ll never get this chance again.”
Even as he said it, I could see my gravestone.
The chief looked at his watch. One minute has passed and all he could think of was his wife and his children at home while he sat and watched CBS “very funny”. This was the only chance he got to call his kids, and he was wasting it.
chatter herd in eternal fake
thats a hard one. i can only think of the chief of my towns police department. he’s the dad to someone i used to go to school with. when i think of that kid i think of all this drama that happened with him and how many problems he caused. its not fair though, because being the chief of the police department’s son, he got away with everything..and still does.
The chief number of love misunderstood,
A gift
And in this gift is the understanding,
In this gift is the relationship.
Oh My streaks of sun bleaching my skin white,
White as snow, He paints me.
There is no gift in permanence,
Only Compromise and trust.
The truths are patience.
The cop at the middle of the street signaled at me as I drove by. Oh crap; I forgot, it’s coding day. I pulled over and rolled the window open. As he came up, I subtly waved a couple of bills folded neatly in half and asked, “What’s the problem, chief?”
He was a chief in the Coast Guard. He saved lives–countless lives–while hardly being able to tend to his own. Where’s the pay off in that? When is that ever fair? How can one have a family when one’s life becomes dedicated to the lives of others?
He was sad, most of the time. Lonely. But when he got to see his wife’s face again… he was that happiest man in the world.
I will never understand his devotion to his job. The hours upon hours he puts in at the office. The dark circles under his eyes or the almost fanatical obsession he has with tracking down a culprit.
But he is my boss, my leader, my role model. My chief.
And I will follow him to the ends of the earth.
In general, there can be only one leader out in the plains, the great expanse of virgin land, unfettered by the drunken footsteps of the white man; this man has the vision to stay away from technology.
Chief among the reasons I have chosen this path are his blue eyes. They never wavered from mine as the world spun and we believed we were taking our final breaths. His eyes were the center of the world – the one thing that kept my soul from escaping the confines of my skin and drifting off into the ether.
Im in charge. not you. i know what i want. you dont. thats that. deal with. live with it. you dont control me like you used to. im not your puppet. youre not my master. i make my own choices. im the heading. im what i want to be. i broke free. no longer in your iron bars. i am free to choose. im free to be me
the chief indian wannahockalugie was irritable because his son nemo left to work at mcdonalds.
Painted bodies against the trees
Flowing fluent through the breeze
Touched each other with loving ease
Left the waves beside the seas
Obeyed the leader in spite of strife
Chanting in ears “It’s not life
It’s living.”
Painted bodies against the trees
Flowing fluent through the breeze
Touched each other with loving ease
Left the waves beside the seas
Obeyed the leader in spite of strife
Chanting in ears “It’s not about life
It’s living.”
Painted bodies against the trees
Flowing fluent through the breeze
Touched each other with loving ease
Left the waves beside the seas
Obeyed the leader in spite of strife
Chanting in ears “It’s not about life
It’s living.”
Painted bodies against the trees
Flowing fluent through the breeze
Touched each other with loving ease
Left the waves beside the seas
Obeyed the leader in spite of strife
Chanting in ears “It’s not about life
It’s living.”
The editor-in-chief never wrote me a letter; the one I received was automated. I never knew why I was always rejected. To be honest, I don’t want to know.
You think you’re a broken, rough Indian,
Living in tanned skin huts with your beaded things
You say you’ve seen famine and war paint.
You say you can beat the White Men with their muskets-
Beat them all like a dance drum-
But arrows fall short of the lead missile roaring to you
And your brown skin runs red like the campfire,
You still charge into the failing battle
But your mad horse eyes show fear.
Chief. Is that as in, well, that is to say. Cheif. In charge. It reminds me of Robert Brambilla. The 7th grade? Perhaps. He could not spell it. Like me now. He spelled it backwards. Cheif I before E, or something. He once had a party, I did not like it. I remember being made fun of.
WHO IS MY CHEIF? A CHEIF IS IN CHARGE. A CHIEF HAS ALL THE RESPONSIBILITY. A CHIEF HAS TO MAKE QUICK DECISIONS AND STAND BY THEM. A CHIEF HAS TO THINK OF OTHERS AND THINK OF THE BIG PICTURE. AM I A CHIEF? DO I WANT TO BE FOLLOWED? I THINK I DO. WITH GOD’S HELP, I CAN LEAD IN A POSITIVE DIRECTION. I WANT TO BE THE TYPE OF CHIEF WHO MAKES GOOD DECISIONS AND WHO WARRANTS RESPECT FOR THE GOOD THINGS THEY DO. I HOPE THAT I CAN DO THAT AT SCHOOL, AT HOME, IN CHURCH AND IN LIFE IN GENERAL. I WILL ASK THE LORD TO GIVE ME HIS GRACE TO DO EXACTLY THIS…..I HOPE I AM NOT A CHIEF WHO LORDS OVER OTHERS OR WHO IS FOCUSED ON SELF RATHER THAN THOSE AROUND ME.
“Cheif?” He sheltered his eyes in the morning sun. “I don’t suppose we have to do anything, do we?”
The old man shrugged. “Not likely that’ll do much, that it’ll matter.” He grunted. “When she get’s a thing in her mind, that’s the end of that.”
“You think she’s wrong?”
“I don’t think she’s right!” The wizened sheriff scowled, it wasn’t the kind of an answer than someone should’ve gotten out of it, but is was more the matter of fact way that it shouldn’t have been an answered question at all.
Together, they watched the heroine of
AntAlta walk away.
chief of my own life
that’s what i’d like to be
but people have other plans
they rule my every move
or at least try to
I beg you, dear chief: please spare my children’s lives for they know not what they have done. The land between us is not marked as “restricted”, they violated our truce in ignorance, please accept my left hand as the symbol of our apology.
“Whatever you say, chief.”
He tousles your wispy hair, and your large eyes take in first the wry smile, then the half squint in his right eye. He bounces you on his knee, with an air indulgent and softened, while your small hands brush against his cheek. I don’t have words, I don’t have feeling, just an overwhelming fullness in my chest that I wish could be spoken, made concrete. My love, pink and cherubic and tangible, in his hands.
chief is a funny word. that is all.
Had it not been for the McDonald’s arc above, towering like a neon XXX sign, signaling cheap bodily pleasure, he might have gone astray.
the day began with the chief of the local tribe, looking for wood to build a fire. you may think that in this time of our lives, maybe a servant, or younger man may be responsible to supply the colony with heat to cook. but no… after so many years of colonization, even the Indians must work harder, every day with no retirement or social security disability or ever food stamps. the Chief is tired. how tired are we? really? Hmph.
“what’s up chief,” the guy says as he walks by to fill up his seemingly endless coffee mug. “fuck off, dude,” is the only thing I have in my head. do I really have to do this again today?
The leader and the head of pack. He eyed everyone in his group, his stare so threatening sending a shiver to those who dared to stare back.
White-Horse-Eagle was
Middle american chief
Betrayed reds to whites.
OSAGI no arimashita!!
yoi haiku!!!!
The man who ran the kitchen was harsh and a real pain in the ass. The men called him chief because he was the chief Sergeant, but also because his dark complexion made him look Native American despite that he was full Italian. Sweating over the pot of soup, he stirred the pot slowly.
Chief among my faults is that I, no wait that is number 7, Ah, okay, chief among my faults is how other people don’t…No that’s not right. Umh. I think that if I had not, no wait if I had… oh that’s it: indecision.
Hail looked down upon his fellows. He was their chief, their leader, their alpha. Each one of them was looking up at him and depending on him. Hail shivered, the motion passing from his nose to the tip of his tail. How could he make that decision? Was it possibly to be the chief, the alpha, they needed him to be?
Master boss leader mom people kids tyrant listen go
I’m afraid of the future for what it holds–or, even worse, for what it doesn’t. Chief of my concerns is if I will be happy or merely stuck in a dead end job and dead end relationship in my dead end life. I’m trying to prepare myself for bitter disappointment (because honestly, dreams don’t come true), but I most certainly don’t hope it comes to that.
i am the chief commodore. only i have the power to make or break this dance. please, follow me into the dark and trust that i won’t get us lost for very long. just long enough for you to see that you love me, that you love each other. hold each others hands, waists, necks. make it count so we don’t lose each other in the end.
Hail to the motherfuckin’ chief.
I gulp. Mother always warned me not to go into Indian Territory. I must have wandered in accidentally when I was gathering twigs for a fire. A boy with big dark eyes looks up at me. He runs away dropping the leaves he was collecting and shouting in his very odd dialect. I stop, frozen. The boy comes back with a tall, dark skinned man. He has paint all over his body and is wearing animal skulls and feathers. He must be the chief.
Police chief, fireman chief, Indian chief…
People of importance, of stature of knowledge.
Hmmm… this one is kinda hard, I’m stumped as to what I should write.