The Game ~ By Dean Ross

I played a little with different styles of poetry here ... There is even a hidden style (OK, I'm stretching it thin with that lol).

Chess pieces scattered
Across the hard wood floor
Spreading their strategy far and wide
Rolling, clattering, attractor of cats
Madness lights their eyes

Collecting and placing, pieces with care
Order restored, the sides are now fair
The Pawn leaps ahead, earnest and eager
Starts off the game with a traditional procedure
Alone in the middle, he brandishes might
The opening move for a long thoughtful night

Piece after piece gets taken away
Lost, lonely sitting by the side, waiting
Reflecting on the sacrifice of piece for position
Defense or attack the moves are the same
It's what you do with them, that makes the game

The Cold ~ By Dean Ross

Today I took a Sudafed 
To clear what's in my nose
The next thing I knew
I wasn't wearing any clothes

One little Sudafed 
Changed the world for me
I can now do anything
It has set me free

Filled me up with energy
My work it lies undone
Dust mites are distracting
In beams of golden sun

One little Sudafed
and now the day is done
Who thought staring at the wall
Could be so damn much fun