Gord

2014-04-18 12:00 am

A hundred and ten, live.
Sundries of men, dead.
Sun dried in a tent,
Limbs sundered and spent.
A disunion to the dissection.
A preparation for misunderstanding.
A sun song sung, 
So sundrily that the people run,
From open pasture to the sunken,
Then a tsunami wave blocks the son.
From the pasture the bell is wrung.
Sons of god in hell, soaked asunder.

Gord

2014-03-10 12:00 am

Clowns out and claiming to command towns,
Cowards crown each other to a throne,
Known owers comb until they receive loans.
Mound surrounders manage again, to crow currant.
Furthermore the Kmart manager needs a quality check.
Its impossible when get a rifle if you're 19 or less.
No Columbine situation is a concern of mine,
The town cisterns for sale, and someones buying it.
So I started a militia, mostly dudes and guys.
For parting power of governmental figures.
I outsource mostly for costly screwups and lies.
My block is full of assholes, that I despise.

Gord

2014-03-10 12:00 am

As soon as I get back to my flat.
Fat bowl, crack, Awake 60 minutes,
Then back to my nap.
Then back to my stash,
Then to knock on my neighbours back.
Can I share a stack?
I can see in his eyes, he's ready to snap.
but he puts the cash in my hand, what?