Gord

2015-04-01 12:00 am

Belief being atheistic,
Aesthetics being belief; 
Life of an ironic,
The bloody icon;
Procession of mighty parapets.
Discussion of architect high,
Feminism of the mind, body high.

Gord

2015-03-31 12:00 am

Belief being atheistic,
Aesthetics being belief; 
Invention of already dead,
Death of the intervention.
Intention lost, deemed release;
Life of ironically bloody guise,
Procession of the mighty parapets.
Discussion of the high architect,
Feminism of the mind, body high.

Gord

2015-02-25 12:00 am

Gold dinar seemingly portrayed free,
Creased jeans denote not experience,
Nor worn strings of the old guitar.
Popular opinion seems to be,
Gold crowns hold some sentience,
Power, However is only an art;
Movement of heart is truly living,
Prudent hopefuls, human beings,
Students convalesce upon the sea,
Trading complacence for femininity;

Gord

2015-02-18 12:00 am

Voice 6:

Voice 5:
Impart not, depart impassioned.
Skirt not around the main subject,
Constrict yourself within contract,
Remain slack, what remains lacks.
Often gold is only plated brass.


Voice 6:
Massive injuries cost my crawl,
A future gone,
Even barring expectation, 
I could bawl tragic.
Should Atlas drop the ball,
Just expecting God catch it?
I want no tricks nor magic.

Voice 4:
There shall be no magic,
silly tricks or dancing,
Only men upon a battlefield.
Some dead, some laughing.
For if you could take a life,
I could take a life.
Only without procrastinating.
I will bring a squire only,
No men will hold you down,
Assuming no-one eviscerates me,
only father shall go to town,
my final wish being a canary.

Gord

2015-01-29 12:00 am

Voice 1
[name] lies slain, with no equal,
Peerless upon the battlefield;
No sword could cleave, 
No arrow shot could find peace,
Only freedom.
Now only the beast remains free,
Feasting upon our arrows' fleeting;
Damage so immense, I see no fleeing,
Alas, only further death.

Voice 2
Begone, for I fear not cancer.
[name] does not meet demands;
Will being not to die as asked of.

Voice 1
Cannot a voice reach thy ear?
Cannot a man be slain by sword,
Common for the man of little fear?
A million miles lies between us.

Voice 2
My man does not fight to falter,
Nor sing songs of issue paltry,
Yet, alas, at last I hear him not.
Only cheers of men which he fought.

Voice 1 exits.

Gord

2015-01-08 12:00 am

Transferring dope to vein,
Barely managing to get off,
Brain filled with Richard Rubbing,
Excrement being purse deserving.

Gord

2014-11-21 12:00 am

Throw all beings into groups of eagles,
Snowball eating full bags of dortios.
Chimp screeches I hear,
Peer boasting nothing but limp,
The cattle prodded openly,
Dying to reach new tiers.

The Paraffin One

2014-10-02 12:00 am

Upon the throne, no one will falter,
No deeper prose, nor dragon exalted.
Asia proceeds onward in laughter,
For the west has loans now defaulted.
Conceding mass fortune to misspent wealth,
Preferring concert above eating well,
Discoursing doctors say priority on health,
Referring to a disease that fell,
Not preventative well being.
Nor representative of the well read,
For mass appeal is just seeing.
The senses infinite within a small thread,
Only known to those rolling with laughter,
Callused so thick they survive the rapture.

The Sophist

2014-09-25 12:00 am

Decay and the rifle alone. Censored by Gods as 
cold winter snow passes men stuck in glop as 
it blows. Who knows? What the fuck does a soul 
call a home? Accepting ideals without gloves 
being shown. Refuting belief but still knowing 
that something transcends all of time, space, 
math, and the know-how. Gloating but feeling 
in pain for lost souls turned wayward, 
corrupt, or depraved by the fallout.

Take it in, as it turns out, by talking in 
strides with the crowds. Softly speak glop 
when it counts. Slowly speak up, and never 
speak out.

Gord

2014-09-02 12:00 am

I transform retribution,
I collide with an enemy,
Destined for fusion,
Corroding my memory,
Crashing the computer,
That is me.

I open on pretense false,
In hopes to gain my loss,
Yet no fate goes uncrossed,
No face goes on unmarked,
No bullet grazes,
They self aim and kill marks.

In honesty,
I hope for their retribution,
Not believing what you do,
I find no institution for truth,
Investigations reveal soot.
To conceal boots under sock.
Truth should be implied,
Secrets shouldn't even be whispered,
When no secret knock is employed.

Among Imperials, two faces clash,
Destroying the child middle,
Purpose born was to protect class.
Among the tyrants, 
A sleeping dog,
His brother opposite,
A sleeping god, 
Purpose forlorn and meaning lost.
Shoot the gun across, regardless,
Trees grow from the river,
Implying a garden should exist.

Yet at the bottom I find no solace.
No mythical beast of which to conquer,
Nor mythical flower of to tame beasts.
So no feast among mythical followers.
Sewn feet no longer bother to move.
Brooms no longer even bother to sweep.

I see Cost front by the citizen,
Expected which are also to clean.
Past participle's partisan cuts so cleanly,
No partisan is left opposite to thee.
Clearly, No god laughs,
Sincerely, No god falters,
And no human shots cast,
Except into human carnage.

No gain for loss,
No pyrrhic victory,
Due course.
No force of sympathy,
homeopathy, anthropology,
from the horse.
No, mostly poor choices.
Voices ringing with phones dead.

No voices in his head,
Scream morality.
of course.
No soldier gains a victory.
sans cost.
None recognize the courage,
of Hailey's comet.
So the gunfire blazes onward.

Amongst the slain, are the slain.
Those who shoot have bullets same.
My Deschamps is but modified Spinoza,
Which I modify to fit in holster,
As exactly as I imagined her,
Far above a reasonable caliber.
For a man who lacks resources,
For as a woman he lacked chorus,
Pestilence amongst the formal courtships.

How do we create such a melody?
Such harmony of utter melancholy.
How do we classify such insanity?
Such discourtesy on our society.
Such, bullets access and exit quickly.
Thus is the mark of beasts.
Thus a heart no longer beats.

Almost lack of mention was lack of faith.
Remembered and forgotten to become same.
All lost the castles of old days,
Only sandcastles remain standing,
Reminder of temporary management,
Of how well that pays.

I depart to vent,
Find myself post-traumatic,
I start to mention,
Find myself post-dramatic,
I mark myself bent,
Find myself post dragging.
Hoping to move forward,
Forgetting that lost in battle.

I sigh,
I realize that's not possible.
I stand purportedly screaming peace,
Screaming bullets purportedly corpse.
I stand in face of uproarious force,
Screaming should-haves,
Scoring for would-have,
Who now will manage.

Tired, I cast aside,
Casting stones seems now juvenile.
Especially in a world this finite,
Who needs to choir for killing time?
Button press' jest as being less vile,
Truth as masked chide,
Who now will bandage?

Gord

2014-09-02 12:00 am

I stand purportedly screaming peace,
Screaming bullets purportedly corpse.
I stand in face of uproarious force,
Screaming should-haves,
Scoring for would-have,
Who now will manage.

Tired, I cast aside,
Casting stones seems now juvenile.
Especially in a world this finite,
Who needs to choir for killing time?
Button press' jest as being less vile,
Truth as masked chide,
Who now will bandage?

The Sophist

2014-08-28 12:00 am

My mother thought that being silent was smart.
This is why I spent days in the dark, 
bed-crazed and my heart sobbing. I was 
ignorant of light blocked by goblins of my 
mind hoping to keep me trapped in the land of 
forgotten. Now I'm plodding; plotting my escape
daily to find peace whopping, lock it with me 
in a coffin and die flopping; watching my life 
pass before my eyelids drop and my chest 
begins rocking. It's like trainspotting or 
going yachting; either way it's going to cost 
me, and either way I'm rotting. I like to 
believe this is my personality popping, but I
also believe that everything I do's common. 
I'm not smart, I'm not witty, in wealth I'm not
sopping. I'm not silent, and I pity the poor 
for their problems. I'm not here to cheat 
people or shit on their knowledge. Prithee a
moment where people aren't thoughtless; prithee
a moment to claim a few losses for a man who
silent misfortune made solemn.

The Sophist

2014-07-30 12:00 am

Once a me wan't blissing his kings.
One said, "You bring me down fool,
You'll be the next that I fling."
I know not the world, 
But knew he could toss,
He flung fools via sling.
I'm no albatross, 
I thus fear the sea;
Whose direction it faced. 
As a favor for me,
If only poor kings flung us fools to their dreams.
I dream of a land filled with kings being fool-led.
Currying favors for an all-curry feast with warm drinks
 and stale bread.
Instead I packed my bauble knife for that night I fled.
In stead understanding this king was a beast with no
 heart in his head.
Once I peaced though I pissed on his rings.

The Sophist

2014-07-21 12:00 am

See depths of apathy,
In lengths of hair,
Like half of me there,
Other half in'other room,
Gaping blankly it stares there too,
Too, too, thoughts like lasers shooting off
 in my mind,
See depths of beauty filling my eyes' seas,
'splayed 'round the front of my being,
All this beauty is mine,
Even you are in the bounty,
You are the wind, the sail, the boat beneath
 my feet.
You move me.
You are a seed that grew toward this
 ever-falling tree.
Freedom gnaws at nature,
A crutching being what's need.

Gord

2014-06-13 12:00 am

I hear them cat-calling: amateur poet;
I see that we have auteurs present.
Thank you for your enjoyment.
Please come again to show.

You all know so god damn much of artistic integrity.

Gord

2014-06-11 12:00 am

I dander,
To her I cling tightly,
In her I find me.
In me she finds her;
So clothesline or a ligature,
Is just a state of mind being.
At least, that's what I'm seeing;

So I pander,
I find the back end of a hand,
Which leaves me more filled with anger.
Yet everyday I manage.

Until I found out the sun is dangled,
So perhaps too, the moon is dangled,
Leaving me in anger.
My love in the clutches of another,
My whole life fandangled;

Kodyboi

2014-05-07 12:00 am

You have to swear
Swear to love loving me,
This trailer will last forever,
We must have a story-book ending.
With a happy end game.
I swear to never go away.
I swear to never put aside,
The things I'm gonna say.
To the stagehand,
I will never confide.

Use your eyes only to look at me.
Use your piss-soaked, whore mouth,
Only to kiss my whore lips.
We are branches of the 21st century.
You can laugh only if you laugh at me.
You can cry only if you cry for me.
Forget what you're condemned to be.
Can't you see?
You filthy cur,
You always were,
You always will be.

You used to Willoughby so nice
I should see a doctor,
Who could keep trains from hitting me.
But A jealous woman would suffice,
She makes it easy to see coffers.
She knows I'll defrost to keep pace.
Opinion will change, but at steep cost.
It also may take a while,
So smile for the time being.
I'm feeling poor in the stomach,
My head is spinning and I feel like a fool.
I think it's about time I change the rules.

The Sophist

2014-04-10 12:00 am

It's not easy being green.
It's not easy helping people make their own disease.
My name is Unimportant; 
I carry scopolamine flowers,
And I pay nothing for it.
My name?
I'm Confused;
I carry scopolamine flowers giving greetings profound.
Playing God of the hour,
Fleeting bodies abound.
Falter and fumble and fall to the ground;
Witnessing light of a paradise found.
Leading the blind,
With my feeble eyes,
Misplaced moral outrage,
Attempts to rewind.
To see druidic days,
Where there's bodies unfounded.
Peat bogs set ablaze,
Simple murders unsounded,
Lacking cause,
Mental haze killing thousands,
Our future disgraced,
Pelves smashed and heads pounded.