Gord

2018-08-29 12:46 pm

I have a shelf of books, all ashes.
My most disastrous,
Poetically immaculate.
Writing of real life intangibles,
Kissing a boy by the shore, 
While the crowd screams more.
That's the 21st century, man,
Progress a little beyond books of ash,
Paper plates and cheques for cash,
Beyond are spaceship parts beneath trash.

If Etan must, they probably may have done,
So if May is upon, another spring comes,
Against a flower one cannot lean butt,
Especially with the shadow cast cut across.

Don't show up at the poetry contest,
Rhetoric political, ignorant, floral, passe,
Or expect they place you last, lame, fake.

Gord

2018-08-28 11:03 am

My belly white, tattoo skin black.
World external floating my inlet facts.
Arms extended, hurled outward to any man,
At least stolen by chance; At last romance.

Of snakebites, stated minds,
Or nothing. The badger writes.
Science though he knows nothing of,
Only fighting and dénouemen love,
Fakery and the image source he knows,
Yet facts alas in the seeds he sews,
Spits on the dirt, who,
He walks upon with shoes.

The Sophist

2018-08-23 11:54 am

This morning's protocols
Beginning pondering
What to do with people on the web.

Thus with a deep resolve
Maintaining promising
Again untrue
We will meet again

This time she has evolved
Now loving squandering
Dreams anew
Then dreaming to forget

Sometimes I can recall
Accepting sombering
Time wasted
In following a trend

This time he feels involved
Now loving squandering
Has a few
Then lives in the regret

You ever feel withdrawal
Oncoming vomiting
Bid adieu
To all of your old friends

I can't say I'm appalled
Forgetting honoring
Lives wasted
Unfollow them in death

The Sophist

2018-08-22 07:47 pm

Quoth the stone road.
“Does a slug judge blood in a cut?” 
“I’ve seen a sponge pull the snow into it’s lungs.”
“How does brush on a bluff approach a shrub?”
Roads groan in prose as such that the dove dove and the grove was lush.
Lots of berries for the nature boys. 
Pure love it ’twas. 

Gord

2018-08-21 11:26 am

Friends spoken to be millionaires paid,
Mind hopeful, experience bar full,
I'm hoping to get a millionaires pay,
Friends along with, interiors vague.

Though rhymes alone do not denote caste,
They are like paste, or a paper,
Clinging to the things we wish to frame.

Like metal rods with a magnet lace,
I walk back to my original place.
Pens broken and arms folded in front,
Mind hopelessly lost of useless knots.

Life like a lark, but come too soon,
So hopelessly lost, inside of dark,
Heart fought and hard fought,
And eventually the daybreak comes.

Hazey

2018-08-14 03:50 am

The thing that hurts the most.
You calmed my storms.
You helped make sense of the chaos.
You plucked me from brokenness.
Helped me find strength.

I don't know what it was.
But just looking in your eyes.
Filled my soul with peace.
I miss it.
I miss the quiet.
The calm.
I miss us.

I'm starting to feel broken again.
Empty inside.
Trying my best.
Not to let anyone see.

But there are days.
Where control escapes me.
Do you think of me?
As often as I think of you?
Do you remember my name?
What it once meant to you?

I look back on that day. March 10th.
Where I lost you.
Where every image I had of you.
Just shattered.
You were no longer a refuge.
You became a source of pain.
You still are to this day.

I blame myself for it.
For my losing you.
It's been three months. 
Realizing it's true.
I don't cry as much. Though my heart still does ache.
Try as I might; I can't bring myself to hate;
You. The situation. Us.

I want to throw it under the proverbial bus.
I can't. Because the sky still reminds me of you. It was our destiny. Our sky. The world was going to be ours. 
Accept it. It's over now. These dreams just won't come true. I need to accept that what we are. Is through.

young

2018-08-11 04:51 pm

Someday I'll forget you, 
That day I'll be free from my thoughts, 
That day I'll accept that I don't have no one, 
That day I'll be happy being alone, 
It won't depress me. 

One day I found someone, 
Though I won't hope that it will happen, 
We never know what happen next, 
I just need myself ready for it. 

But for now, 
I wish you were doing well, 
I love you from the bottom of my heart, 
Even though you don't care about me, 
And I don't know if I exist in your life.

Gord

2018-08-10 05:27 pm

Nails filed to the end,
Sun setting in the distance,
I scratch and claw endless,
Failing to find a coin to spend,
Flailing to mind my business,
The new owner Olympus.

Perhaps I am but foil to him,
Poetically our lives akin.
Though he sees me boiling pans,
Loud as thunder in soiled pants,
Sent on my way out the door,
Rather than embarrassed again.