Morvick
2020-06-20 12:43 am
Where do we go now? We are dense and diverse; The moon sounds empty though. We've any virus to deal with The world has to meet cure; The pandemic is bleeding Emotions more than bodies; The world has grown frail. Next hand we witness racism; Some foster it, some combat. We're just killing time... Forgetting Thou judgement: Fire thorns or eternal drink, We kick love and expect luck.
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Gord
2020-06-18 02:23 am
I wrote the list upon my hand, because I was wont to forget. Memory was always a weakness, since birth I assume. I had since then learnt to cope. Would it rain? I wasn't sure, but I would be ready if it did. "Ready to go?" I heard a voice. I nodded, we were probably already late. It was dark outside, raining. The blacktop shimmered with the small bit of dwindling light that escaped through the clouds. The day was early but the day already felt long, characteristic of the gloomy weather. I opened the door, however, to sunlight beaming in my front door. "Great! Looks like it cleared up outside!" but all I could hear was the ocean. The noise of waves tossing themselves on the shore was overwhelming, their loudness filling the air. "Are you alright?" I snapped back into reality. I assured myself I was fine, just lost in thought as usual. I tried to make myself more comfortable by focusing on the inviting weather, although I was visibly nervous. I felt like something bad was going to happen. My foot stepped to the concrete, bending the leather of my shoes and causing them to crease. We walk beside one another in a peaceful silence toward the bus stop, eyes trained on the puddles of the sidewalk. My foot lifted for another step and as it comes back down to reach the water, I felt a wind rush past. I looked up, and I found myself all alone. Once again, I felt the rain upon my face.
Gord
2020-06-15 03:16 am
Do thickets see steeples, or are people the thickets? If writers are thick headed, Writing of Peter Pans' pigs, Who visits? Bull, riches, seer, man, Write a list upon my hand, So that my plot, it thickens. What is time spent living: Divine or perspective driven? Plate spinner, of your illusion, Place your spins upon their back. Bull, chickens, and feelings lack, Who takes from hands of other hen? Who take the hands of other hen, Who take the land of wary men, Who lost to men, More suspicious then. What is it all about: Defense, or Pence, To what extent do I extend, What is strength?
Gord
2020-06-11 05:50 am
The bar too low, A life in limbo. Civil man elicit, Dance too rigid. Cancer, victim, Lance too frigid. Is life another rhyme? Saved for another time, or just a bunch of lies? Head and shoulders, Knees and hipbones. But does god see soles, Planted into the beach? How does god see souls, Managed funds and stealing? While reaching into homes, to take his piece? A plastic man, made for shelves, Laughs filling his fantastic needs.
Gord
2020-06-08 05:39 am
No brittle bones, paid for sickness, For where it goes is nonsense. Undying, nobody throws spear immortal, Even if the wind vied in cordial, Simple wounds seal of licks and moans. My immortal man made of sticks and stones, Drowns in cordial, healed by cordial, Acting cordial among the crude oil.
Lynn
2020-06-07 12:25 am
i see sunday mornings beyond my time. does sunday still exist? i see my history yawning out before me. can corpses exist on both edges? i see my mother. can grief follow a child out of the womb? time, death, and life roll the die to see which takes their turn first. west and north argue over the sun while east and south clutch each other, wailing. god's suicide passes through us concentric circles of chaos look, there is too much blood in the streets!
Gord
2020-06-06 10:52 am
Diablo II, Why make me wait for games? My fate lament, give it away, Give it away, give it away now. Fleas of the carpet, People of the parking lot, Can you not? Trying to make something, They stand about, puffy, Chests golden, coffers copper, Rusted in their velour valor, Failing to soil of fewer flowers.
Gord
2020-06-04 02:07 am
Bones that manage to crack, A love forever lacking, What one cannot foresee comes again. Losing fights that cannot be won, outgunned, outlasted, nor outrun. A foot forced to shrubs, But what of the lungs? Lonesome, handsome fighter, What of your gloves? What of your sums? Poster person, spokesman, What of you becomes?
Gord
2020-06-04 12:25 am
The toad speaks, the mind sees, The mouse squeaks of menses; Too high to sleep, ego flying, Does one write lines on sheets? Scribble perfection, or deny? Fights cannot be won, only survived. Poet, please give me writing, Forced to be, I need power to fight.
Gord
2020-05-28 05:14 am
Why does the torrent travel? Where is the lively forest? Even the poorest trees flourish, Their coins worthless, Poinsettia, wide oceans. For my set list chosen, What does forum or castles have? Gravel walls, gravel flooring, People with their comfort lush, Their lives worthless, Political science, flyers, Quotients.
Gord
2020-05-27 03:00 am
Above all others is the twinkling. Shine, said the twinkling, Shine then shine again. Time is time to them, Above all others is this giant lens, Like a just firmament, is the lens. Squish, squish; it bends to man, Threatened into inexistence.
azuresky96
2020-05-26 07:30 pm
The sun begins to set in the horizon I muster up the courage to walk like royalty With a few hours of rest, I think I am ready. Heart beats fast, hands are sweaty My brain feels like a time bomb. How do you get ready when you're not ready at all? Standing like a scarecrow I'm the one getting scared Why did you have to choose me? I just want to curl up or even flee. No one else seems to relate I must survive this time. As I leave, the moon begins its work. That's it for today. Tomorrow calls for another chance.
azuresky96
2020-05-26 07:27 pm
Tell me how the sunset lightens your life Does it glow in a way you like? Tell me about the flowers you looked at Did you pick every single one? Tell me oh tell me about the time When your heart grew sad and tired. Do you let the feelings out? This moon keeps the sparkle in me It energizes my thoughts in every way. Do you feel the same? Tell me Tell me about the moon.
Gord
2020-05-20 05:58 am
I guess I could write again, About life: All but writing. Perhaps mine inspire biting, Fists to the side inspiring. A couple stands, A couplet stanza, My life is not simple music, To play on verandas, Nightstand or castle. Rather it's a little shrew, His mind on what is new: "Is it food?"
Autumn
2020-05-14 11:54 am
Show me that night underneath the sky when you pulled me close but i am nothing but smoke in your hands. You are my ghost—or am I yours?— and we float away up to the sun. There’s a shadow around the corner and it haunts me. I flee into your arms— into you— and the fire between us chases it away. I don’t want to leave but you can’t stay and I ask you, please. I’ll let you go forever if you just stay tonight, here with me and whisper in my ear that you’ll never leave
Gord
2020-05-14 08:21 am
I write of hands, God replies back, In comic sans.
Lynn
2020-04-29 12:56 am
it's my turn to put away the dishes it's the same knife i use to cut strawberries in the mornings the sucrose covers my hands. do you think blood is the same kind of sticky? will it come off with soap and water and elbow grease? will it even matter?
Lynn
2020-04-26 07:53 pm
I am a infinite work in progress. Who I was yesterday is not who I am now is not who I will be tomorrow. However long it takes me to answer, the clock keeps ticking. The past increases, the future recedes. I'm not me, I'm a traveler. Whatever I do, wherever I go, it will pass. When whenever ends, finally I will know rest. Peace.
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