Gord
2021-04-16 04:35 am
Last living lemming, No house to live in, No Chandeliers; Next exhibit, Next exhibition, Spoke of past tense in English, Fluent in other languages; An Eccentric Mystic, Poetic Lyrics, and their beginnings; One carves caverns, Of all manner of rock, What matters of master? The afterthought.
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Wim Grundy
2021-03-10 08:35 pm
"Oh, weep for Vietnam! The sick dreams Of passion-winged Ministers of War Who sent boys in, who never living streams Nor ripe rice paddies crossed to get their star. Their Draft which made men fodder, blundered not— Wonder no more, tho' sixty thousand slain, But fly there, where they fell; and mourn their lot Round their cold hearts, where, after their sweet pain, They ne'er will gather strength, or find a home again.'' ~ After Shelley, ELEGY TO KEATS
Lynn
2021-02-08 01:19 am
quite literally they cannot spill out of my mouth into the toilet bowl fast enough green, neophyte, insensate swirling around in the clear, shallow water, they almost look like they are swimming ancient, ferric, turpentine its midnight on sunday afternoon and the morning never felt so far away verily, salt, halcyon pulling the lever, they swirl away, the letters sloshing together into a murky soup gestalt, vermilion, fear they turn into equations with no solutions when i bring my hand away from my mouth, wiping ouroboros, nineteen, baseless i know better than to brush my teeth golden, gale, corridor i know better than to go back to bed right after demilune, murmur, mirror linoleum, throat, nightgown listless, lucid, dreamer
Knoble Kaller
2021-02-05 02:06 am
Rise oh sun oh immortal flame to wake the soul to play again. To run and dance and jump for joy and warm the hearts of girl and boy. Beam down your rays of healing light confirming natures pure delight and bringing forth more glee than blight no winter yet in this souls sight. May brilliant joy and exaltation be your gift and coronation leading toward the beach of plenty makes one feel like being twenty. Wish upon dream upon starry starry night. Let your spirit take its flight to one you’ll hold extremely tight. Embrace your dream with passion free exposing all intentional glee for daylight breaks and dawn reveals lovers heart… eternally.
Gord
2021-01-21 10:16 am
Of stem and leaf, Love fed at ease, Of ends and meet, Of fair and sweet, When we speak of things We speak so freely, Of flesh and teeth. Shanty after shanty, See the men at sea, See the heights they reach, Lows so permanent and deep. Well, that's sweet, Yes, that means, Go ahead and feel, Just know, there is no you and me.
Lynn
2021-01-13 05:29 pm
holding the box between two fingers so it does not fall the hand is not pandora’s; she has been dead for centuries inside the lid, an amateur’s attempt at a cumulonimbus the sky behind them greener than the clouds before a tornado the clouds themselves whiter than the dust after what will become of the box? will it house bangles and bracelets and small forgotten memories? will the hinges rust and the sky become separated from the ground? will it ever find its way home?
Gord
2020-09-22 04:26 pm
Some composers write bland forever, Passionate sellers, mechanical components, Bad poem after bad poem; Best service as archers than soldiers, Philanthropists of the moment, Amateur poet of farmers knowledge, Larger wage, cannabis smoker; Boxer of drama, reading poems and novels, Softer and lower, he sees darkness;
Gord
2020-09-11 05:58 am
Drinking Bowls and pitchers, like smoking coals and timber; If only bones could lift, Our home, save the children, Even buried having all gold and silver, Can an afterlife supply of groves and vineyards? Old and crippled, mouth of the old man dribbles, His eyes meet to eventually form a river; How can he romance with trombones and singers, When he sees and himself, groans and withers, Lays down again amongst the toads and lizards; Eyes hollow and wrinkled, bathrobe, slippers, Windows, the stones that hit them, now coal, Used to build all the roads and bridges.
Lynn
2020-04-07 10:57 am
the bedsheets, striped linen, rumpled, unkept the jar of half-full change on the nightstand the dollar store notebook full of dated dreams the bible, still lying in the nonfiction section of the bookshelf the lavender curtains, billowing in the cool spring air— I forgot to close the window. the cat meanders in after his nap in the blue blanket still draped over the armchair, he stretches big, jumps to the east windowsill, and tracks a cardinal, pupils blown wide. parting is such sweet sorrow. (2.2.188)
Gord
2019-10-29 07:41 am
Horns, voice of the poor, Holy, vision is only. Rather, than coroner's noise, Throw the dice of paradise your holding. Father, can corners point? How can a leader lead, Scared of people peeping, Their knowledge growing. To plough after planting seeds, Scared of people leaving, Father, am I to join? I feel my collage is nothing, My college is nodding, Politicians are nodding, Should I be hoar myself, Before myself? Should I embrace my life, Before death? Should I allow imbibing, Am I building a shelf, Or finding myself?
The Sophist
2019-08-07 06:21 am
Act white; Pack light, Passing every alley in a mad hike. Can you wear your Nikes out, When theft is at a mad high? Can you wear your Gucci belt? 'Cuz theft is at a mad high; Thirsty people getting water like they're Mogwai, Then they're eating after midnight. Man, I can't even see straight. I feel mad high under the streetlights. *Rustle Rustle* as a squirrel runs past. I'm in flight. What the fuck was that?
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
2018-10-21 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
2018-10-16 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
2018-09-27 01:23 pm
Climate I math notes climbing, Natural knowledge, Eye Rhyming. Pass on the peyote piping, Thy patina, your knife finding, Kite blue, alike my soul, Life in tense, dividing, in two. A walk in reverse, after marathoning, Designer clothes given patronizing, Living Patron, sizing larger. I'll talk and traverse, Pasture paragon lifestyle for, Pluto could not write himself, Aristocracies would sign lords, Soule, crabs and seacreatures, Arrange, kill. Labeling features, Toward no end, untoward wool, Frayed at the end, Dog no match for wolf. Tres bien.
Gord
2017-12-27 10:00 am
Amateur poet, ultimate, Heroic, stoic, slowest, Everything rhymed about, Hopeful of inchoate. Chum of the lake, think, Who is the wake for? Dead men living pale, or those living, Mouth agape, ailing, Flailing their limbs, Scene akimbo, Fare unanswered, Meter fake. So they take what is mine, Question pondered, What is life plastered? Humanity mastered, Time honored, or is it a last laugh, before dying afterward? Poets lie yet find alms, Measured footsteps bald, Words lifelessly clever, Heart hard to hold palm; Old arms to old arms, Adages stolen loved upon; Bard holy, arch golden, To carve lonely, Barns beholden, Nothing nobel. Par normally, like poultry, To starve colts. Ark art, Swan gone, Dark garb, lark fawned, Opposite of his mind, He finds laughter, Chapter after chatter, Chancellor gone; He defines pattern, An afterthought.
Gord
2017-12-25 08:13 am
Amateur poet, ultimate, Heroic, stoic, slowest, Everything rhymed about, Hopeful of inchoate. Chum of the lake, think, Who is the wake for? Dead men living pale, or those living, Mouth agape, ailing, Flailing their limbs, Scene akimbo, Fare unanswered, Meter fake. So they take what is mine, Question pondered, What is life plastered? Humanity mastered, Time honored, or is it a last laugh, before dying afterward? Poets lie yet find alms, Measured footsteps bald, Words lifelessly clever, Heart hard to hold palm; Old arms to old arms, Adages stolen loved upon; Bard holy, arch golden, To carve lonely, Barns beholden, Nothing nobel. Par normally, like poultry, To starve colts, Farms wholesome.
Gord
2017-09-28 04:57 am
Feelings in her heart, Apathy of mind lost, The world desired, Earth forgotten, Therefore pursuant of swine, Love begotten. Reading of foreigners, Yet her poetry declines, Like Vines, Fine Wines, Rhyme lines her mind; Obsessive of forewords and forever afters; Useless goodbyes, Given in poor wording. Forgotten is passion, For words and order, A husband mastered, A wife only borrowed.
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