Gord
2019-01-10 07:14 am
Open prose with my dignity, I am simple, Iambs, imagery, Trying to oven toast, With my sympathy lost. I hope for you another loss, Scotch socials, often postures, Costumes oft. Walls filled with posters, To wish you, where I was, As if my feelings forgotten. Open hose of complacency, Teach me your giving ways, Leach lead onto my face, My children's faces, My foodstuff casings. Tell me of today: "I Take not, responsibility. Taste, not digestibility, My style succinct, My rubber hole, Leaves rubber taste."
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Gord
2019-01-09 12:52 pm
I write without notes, No goblins, or hope, Aftermath nonsense. So? I write long-form cribs, Despite shotguns, dibs, Despite skunks glibs: Seven, Eight. Eight, Nine. Just in time, coughing: "Forgive my hands, I am pandering, but All I wish is to climb, My trip divine, My lips atwine, Would you be so suited, Had I not arrived?" In the middle, my tie mismatches, Patchwork outfits, simple acids. Dissolve an owners possessions, Would ten not ask, where are my people, Clothes and houses? I would think at last, and note it, Seven ate nine hungry and homeless, To not play such a hand, preposterous. By standards awful and longing, With numbers staging off-brands.
Gord
2018-12-14 08:22 pm
Walk ambles beyond, Talk stumbles upon, To write another poem, Ideas like a fawn. Appealing siren song, My pen misguided, My Ken to Barbie, A life, component plastic, Abdomen firm, mind naught, Opponent, you cage her, For I cannot.
Gord
2018-12-12 08:58 am
Wheels but partition, A PALS secrets, Foreseen at distance, No team so clean, A fallacy hideous. She spins the wheel, deals, A vowel to vie, consonant, She speaks volumes, columns, A fool to buy love constant, For I is one you cannot buy, She screams from the distance.
Gord
2018-12-07 12:28 pm
Lately, I write universal, Rody Walker disapproves: "I see through you, Ethereal, feigning too close, To touch a virtue. Oh, feeling, careening mostly, Posts passing, tongue lashings, More dashing, floor, gas pedal, More dashing, more dashing, One says, like a clause." Platinum ring, yet, Heart diamond, set. What's happening, please, Forget my misdeeds, luck, A hat in a ring, belts, One generation fights back, Another fights against. Poetry succinct, mispelled, Written on cocktail napkins, Waitress dismayed and going, Thrown to a well indistinct, Dreams worth more than coins, More than love or poinsettias, Less two roses that grow together. At least, If I throw my feelings, Into the well they drink, One day they will think of me. Although, If I know I'm leaving, Into the well I go, no warning, or unthinking. Tomorrow, If I am untoward, Bloated upon our meeting, Give me shelter from the storm. Or at least a greeting.
Gord
2018-11-24 04:41 pm
Let's get lit Have you ever felt a time so lit, Like this. Blessed, dressed, Comfy sweaters, It's Christmas. Have you ever felt a time so lit. I guess, I'm dressed in it, I'll spend the whole day with my friends, Chilling. Mingling, God Willing, Song Singing, Painting pictures of my brothers swinging, I guess, I'm blessed because, I can feel it's Christmas. We get presents (ooh) We get Phillips Hues. Everything you wanted all year, I've got just for you. Let's get lit Have you ever felt a time so lit, Like this. Blessed, dressed, Comfy sweaters, It's Christmas. Have you ever felt a time so lit.
Gord
2018-11-14 07:13 am
Wisdom, do anything for love, One cannot administer feeling, Smoking trees and tending buds; Ashore a flood, Amore my love, Shores complain not of fumbles, Nor bees of bumbles. Horse contained not by hurdles, Nor flees or humbled. No fleas or bugs, or jungles. A girl, reserved forever, supple, Personal, plain, non functional, Is she a butt joke, or punchline? Regret, or spend time a spindle, Two too many, to twine a stick, Rope simply frayed on four ends. Portend of trouble, Poor tend to nothings, Their lovers forever troubling, Who casts shadow twice a valley, Humble?
Gord
2018-11-09 04:40 pm
Railing, mirth like nail files, Failure at the last mile, paling, Valencia mailing, orange letters: "Hello, my love endearing, Are you not hearing my words, Cello, or Othello reading." Orator deceiving, apportioned more, For boys, they are but fleeting, Foreign peering at another girl. Teenage to be, card or palm reading, Do my feelings mean nothing more? A chore on your list of meetings, Suit, Tie and your railing grasped tightly. I might be a fool for lies and deceit, Ununique like an onion, carrot or leek: "Choose me please, you need to eat. Color me pink or beat me anew, kneed, Until I am bread, so says the meat." Your railing a crutch, always needed, Like carrot bread has disgusting features, You have disingenuous dealings with realism.
Gord
2018-11-05 10:53 am
My heart filled with love, Only my paintbrush coveted. Simply a coward with canvas, To give forms anew, forever, Formula new, for you toward, Perhaps to give in retort. To highlight, grey, Brush dusty and disdain, My desires of microphones, Speakers though, just saying.
poetessdarkly
2018-11-05 01:27 am
Fruitful sword lily ablush Nestled in gardens lush Pigments triumph aplenty Resilient verdant sentry Colossal erectile shoots Ingrain deep abyssal roots Precious tis platinum spun Abreast a rising sun Glorious tis a supple reign Aubade a beauteous refrain Vibrant a gladiolus plant Borne on Gaia’s decant Traverse archaic path Helios waning wrath Shadows await dusk Absconding obligant musk
Gord
2018-11-01 06:54 pm
Reading of lives I enjoy deceit, My letter bold, italic and neat: "Please hear me, Greek, leek, I sometimes write nonsense, Lest hope you would hear it." Leading my lines, Foreseeing poetically, Receiving a liar guilty. He says: "For stanzas today, teacher, I stand like bread features, My brother filet beside me." For once he doesn't lie, Looks for the sky, sees ceiling. Nothing aground marks his feeling, Seeing the concrete, He remarks of life: "To tryst so wildly, again, Would Vivaldi paint so vividly? Probably, and with champagne, because his name has dignity." So seeing his window, He thinks of rain.
Gord
2018-10-24 05:31 pm
Bartlett pears, dare i say, or shout, Without is life austere, my world grey. Some juicy poetry I heard today: "With my hands so sticky, A world become so tricky, So quickly the armoire useless, Of rickety fences, my house is." I spoke it, To save face, Bartlett pears are on their way.
Gord
2018-10-21 01:49 pm
The valley is my grave For I sit within the mouths of caves I shall not move for days Nor weeks nor years For even if I'm paid in flies My destiny, Tyler, I won't deny For one day when I die My body will atone For I could eat a stone twice my size My destiny, Tyler, I won't deny My afterlife, a Bulwark Frog Lo, to be a tadpole of one's own life For now, I just write songs Fantasies to make my family fear the valley's size Then bulwark on
Gord
2018-10-21 08:56 am
Why write technical poetry? Skylight he remarks, opens, Beams of light Caepoeria, Room a knight of California, Adjoined, special upholstery, Coins, for centuries. My king coiled, Toiling thy rings, By fools finding hands, Bringing foil to my picnics. Thinking spoilt, Singing doyle, Drunk stringing his violin, To play brittle. How would I do, Aemula? Is my world to soon, exposed, Or steeped for your future? A mule for god, How would I too, butcher, Myself, user and administrator? I'm you for Claude, Europe, Sugar, or urban woodland. Frogs bulwark their homeless, I'm too for piles of durance, Furthermore for living fulcrum, Furthermore, for here it comes. Words technical, sure, but speaking of, Can I not just turn and bite my thumb?
Gord
2018-10-16 06:37 pm
Imagine your achievements dreamed, To swim upstream, one's valor full, Salmon like calendar, won tomorrow. River colander rusted and massive, Is this my love, and forever after, To be strained by dirty captives? I magic your feelings careening, To sink a damn, one's cup too full. Salt mounds like ashen piles, Too often borrowed by a saline cult. Maybe my faults found by asking, To speak upfront, one never knows, Maybe fault-lines, foundations cracking. To be a tan, army man, evil being, May be taught lies fundamentally ethic, Baby breaking, tied to shouting rhetoric.
Gord
2018-10-16 05:56 pm
In my city they wish for dreams, Fish in streams, with no disease. Innocently they live of demons, Give no lead, monster. Imposter husband, Who touches a lot, Possibly you are of honors, Kissing no others, Triage cupboards, heed. For up above there is no seer, Magical being informs our love, Only me. So where mist is aqua, My spirit is awestruck, A blessed potato, tucked. My stomach is full, I have work too abrupt, Where a kiss is awkward, Kids living squalid. So in my city, of missed ague, I will breakthrough, My break through, a great due. A comedic debut, no laughing, A great deal of scoffing at me. My blessed potato, to keep me warm, To be eaten, and too returns. As I scrape these tile floors, Let no-one know, current location: Somewhere forward, even from tomorrow.
Gord
2018-10-11 03:08 pm
She writes fallacies of nobody, Highlights for her hair color, Callously she laughs with glee, Ire beauty and young bravery. Screaming in doorways sobriety, I like to think she knows me not. Picking flowers from her yard, Policy alike her start, mother, Discovering what to be, rather, Honesty like her heart, lover, It beats nobody clever. Until. Forgive my desires: two stepping. Your teacup leaking, I laugh still. Sieve steeping, a living actress, And to live needing? is this banter? Definition in short order, leaving. For give my empires to Stephen, An idea more Corey than Cancer. A ballet dancer, but a thick boy, Holes among left awood with joy, Man ideal for lawyers and cantors, For one who teaches is forgotten, Cotton tarnished in an oily oil. Royalty royal and parched to often, His voice softens, off his head, For I too seek enjoyment, spread.
Gord
2018-10-10 01:06 pm
Soon, my rooftops ventures velour, While his felt cap. So my life could be but parkour, Hostile to this running man, Denying his own strategy. Assume my caricature ugly, Underlying themes, nothingness, Prion disease and brain eating. I scream, away, shoo Like strained water, drained, Boon by foolish penmanship true. Dry humor, dishes in an apartment, States his wishes, his way were apt, One could have but half, contrite, In manacles, retarded and live happy. Perhaps education provides a tragedy, In return, for pardon of inadequacy. So, I too tiptoe guarded garrisons, My bliss beheld past, Soon their life could be of boars. Therefore course I lick, Stamps compelled to stick, What am I? A Saliva Lich? On course to death? Rich. I would embrace the quick, Lest this lifetime of fists.
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