Gord
2026-09-01 06:24 pm
I was there in the hospital where you gave up, Was it impossible? Like you said so? Did happiness come? I think something awful of what you've become, Was it nice in the calm, like you said so? Did you find love? Did you find anyone? I wish I had died, both then and all along, Like a knife and be less subtle, Push inside, until bone and break it off.
0
Gord
2026-06-18 06:11 pm
Where did the first seed grow? Plus, who owns it? Monsanto needs to know... for the lawsuit, Above the Earth, also below, Orchards grow. What you reap is what you sow, But, who owns it? You, or someone you don't know? Whose wish is to have your wish, And everything else you covet. Orchard, apples never fall far from, So, they know where to find you, And everything else you love... Orchard, to the Italian restaurant Sold to you at whatever cost, Like internet does to things you love, Nostalgia wears off like a bitter rust. Orchard, what have we done? Orchard, where have you gone? Orchards, and we moved on, Into the distance, back to god. What you reap is what you sow, But, who owns it? Like Cleopatra said to Rome: Above the Earth, so below. Above them both, Orchards grow.
Gord
2026-04-16 10:41 am
Love from the art class... Is everything the same, Or have you changed perhaps? If my tomorrow never came, Am I still just some faggot, That never had your respect? We both know front to back, When it comes to class, but What about our crossed paths? Does it matter, about the facts? Whether I fell to able hands, You would rather write about it, You already decided, so sing that, And when you finally do get to it, You shove it up your ass. Love, from the bottom of my heart, They never taught you art in class, And you never learnt good taste, Is everything the same? No... I would say you changed, perhaps, But you never had any fuckin class. And, that comes from me... Love, from the art class, All the way to the current of my heart: Things have changed, It's better you stay hard, man, A wave from across the bar. Far away, like your honest thoughts.
Gord
2024-11-15 07:05 am
Thinking of exposure, orange, Are you coming over? Oh... From emotion to hypnosis, Light comes from the phone. Talking frozen yogurts, awards, Terrifying rollercoasters, poets. Light comes from the phone, Orange how the redness shows, Awe, gathering rosebuds below. When I wrote about you it showed, Both you and I know it, What else do I love? Suppose you had died, What else would I have? Hope you might fly home? Well, I paid for it anyway... Light comes from the phone, Blindness from my brain, Tiredness of fate. Like edamame on a plate, Somehow, I hoped for more, Even if it was more the same
Gord
2024-11-06 06:52 am
Rose gold chrome horns, Like cardboard clothes, Cold, associates sorrow, Unworn, uneven tomorrow. So bow your head forward, Lift yourself up, divide me whole. I stand naked before you, Like I play with hands both, Like I tap, dance, as a show, I do for all you know, I suppose. Upon her form, both hands, Avacado toast, buttery bread, Guitar solo overtop the prose, Alcohol in her mouth, floor, Softcore porn, popcorn snow, Relationships in rondo form. I just wish I knew something more.
Gord
2024-10-30 11:58 pm
Red coral, white bands, Windmill motions, Arms moving forward, If you get in the way, I'm waiting for you. Healing potions in both my hands. Pink coral, line graph, One day the ocean... For now, whatever passes. Yakub like arrangements, Only I divide you in half, Led Zeppelin she says, Is her favourite band. But she loves Taylor swift and Robert Plant. Red coral, white bands, White flags, white magic. Let go of my hand, she says, She needs a wise man, Not one coveting red. You'll get in the way, I'm moving forward, Text messages sent. White Coral, White mask, While to dress, only black. And all the red is gone, I guess...
Gord
2024-09-03 09:13 pm
Dichromatic concepts, Gods, and Goddesses, Blood, clotted, The colors bother him. Colors like blue-red, like proverbs. Worship Brahma, trust in process, Like an animal, acquire knowledge. Marvel, at an impossible profit, Money like orange, hyperbolic, Muscle farmhands, prophet. You are the colors you ponder, You aren't young much longer, You, are an actual darkness, A lack of color. Worship gospels, dungeon crawlers, To you, a monster is a monster, Nonsense you might make up, Forget what murdered daughters, Sons and brothers, like insects. Those little boxes you invented, Then force upon a general public.
Gord
2024-07-21 08:49 pm
Yellow, and a bit of blue, Both, I, and you. Purple, Lilac, I just care not for it. Just like you never cared for me, Or any of the things that I thought. Fetch mother, friends, for comfort. Tell your co workers, or consort. I, no longer for dramatic concert, Agriculture of the hallway, march, July, august or months of autumn, Yellow, burst into skies of orange. See If I toss and turn about it. Like, he drives a porche, owns gold, Fire and opal in his coat pockets. Like, the eyes of horses see god, They see not much beyond carrots, Understand little of soap, clothes. Like, maybe you cared for poems, Little for poets, less even for prose.
Gord
2022-12-21 04:00 pm
Knowing few truths, too youthful, choose, No use for rules, too poor for morals. Two views, both fools, accuse, Loose tongues ruin their world. Must they struggle and fight all their lives? Into groups, they divided themselves, Absolute truths and nonsense, Both destroyed by their own kind. Is it nothing to you, all you who pass by? Is any suffering like their suffering? They copulate and make offspring, Die, their children die, their children die, While they're still alive they mate, Great minds think alike, again, And again generations later they fight
Gord
2022-11-29 10:02 am
Phalanx, already made plans with Ahab. Enemies, whales , their emails: 'save as'. Eventually their money exchanges hands, A ribcage cracks, a heart swells so thick. Revenge, already made plans, rain dance, Polearms for the bad man, stained glass. Both man and animal inevitably acquiesce, The old barn will fall upon the sand.
Lynn
2022-10-13 01:36 pm
It was cold & the sky was too red as the sunset came too early - my brain was spinning with those letters & numbers & they were falling out of my ears. I looked at the asphalt and I saw my past and future yawning out - both in the same direction on the one-way road but my ears were too cold to listen, to learn. It was too austere in the building & too frigid outside & too glacial in the car picking its way home through the ice and old snow. It was too much too few & not enough of anything at all. & it swarmed. Threes with wings and velocities out with compound eyes buzz & sting & leave me paralyzed, there on the curb.
Monet
2021-07-27 02:50 pm
“Don’t let me down”, now that’s a foolish way of thinking Response of confirmation, actions not in agreement Not very much Redeeming Like Pandora’s box you’re seeming Like bullets to the chest, I’m barely breathing Confused and in distress, was I deceived? and Was I deceiving? Were you mistaken by my distance and a lack of trust was formed Or was my token of your trust misplaced in your corrupted life form? Are you a demon? But you weren’t demeaning. You boost me up, Above the ceiling was my love Like, not love, allow me to clarify Was different, real connection But anything more than that I inform you, I deny And now I cry Mine, your were not but all of you was with me Or maybe me with you, that’s where I get confused Mistaken thinking Time, as more comes, you will fade At least that what my research say But I swear to god, my image of you gets imprinted on me more and more as I survive the day Leave me alone I don’t want you here to stay Memories in my bone Fractured when I lay Fractured when I wake Fractured me in my waist Oh what a waste A waste of my fight when all I care to take is flight All I care is me and you changed that habit Is that what lies are like? Is the purpose damage? If so you succeed because I’m more than done I’ve lost my sun Although it’s reflection on the moon is a pretty replica You set me up Trojan horse You lift me up And when things got good you sat me down Let me frown Although I hide, that feelings sound That feelings loud Those thoughts clear These eyes hold tears Those drops aren’t mild Neither were my fears So clear Ill steer for now Others won’t be allowed My voice won’t speak aloud Not truth nor words of deep Only traps for the weak, ones I couldn’t put out They were from your slope Your dope became my cloud I guess it’s, both, hello and goodbye for now. If only I knew before, how much you’d let me down.
Igor Goldkind
2021-02-12 12:44 am
LIVING WITH UNCERTAINTY What if we thought of this uncertainty as Jews consider our Sabbath— As a sacred space in time? Stop traveling. Stop buying and selling. Stop working. Give up trying to make the world better than it is. Instead, sing. Dance. Pray. Write songs and recite poetry. Paint the pictures from your eyes. Walk amongst the leaves and the stars. Touch only those to whom you have committed your life. Sit down. And when your mind and body have become still, Reach out with your heart. Know that we are connected in ways that are both terrifying and beautiful. No one can deny that now. Do not reach out with your hands. Reach out with your heart. Reach out with your words. Reach out with all the curled tendrils Of compassion that connect us invisibly, To where we cannot touch each other.
Knoble Kaller
2021-02-05 02:18 am
Babies and family and warm woolen mittens these are the things in which we are smitten. Sunlight and rain on my face all insane one patters one warms yet both matter the same. Porpoise and dolphin like gorilla and chimp similarities to cuddle yet don’t make good sense. Oh why are these thoughts so loud in my head of things that concern me and things that are said. Is my heart crying out and my logic repressing or is common sense keeping myself from undressing. Baring soul inner thought is scary at best when guessing who’s trustworthy or in whom to invest. Light of day brings rising clarity for each intense charity of ones mortal soul and the damning sobriety. So tortured inspired and desired the same within friendship and love and all things a flame. Now dry from the patter and warm by the fire to cuddle desire and wash off the mire for all the heart wants is all it requires and that my dear friend is all that must matter.
Lynn
2020-10-29 11:27 pm
these are the golden years, the golden day, she says like the sunrise or the sunset? i say both. or neither. she says do you miss it? she says your youth, i mean. i know. i miss it. i am still young. it has been torn from my chest and weighs on my hips and i miss it. i say how was your birthday? she says better than before, i say. before what? the moment it became my birthday. were you gifted anything? she says on which birthday? i say all of them. or none. she says do you think we could preserve this moment, cast it in gold or bronze or iron? she says no. who said that? i pick up the mirror and drag it home. ten, nineteen, two thousand and one.
Gord
2020-10-28 10:14 am
Writing one hundred pages, It turns out to be permanent makeup, Not exactly an act of nature, Rather products of one's labor, Tattooed to the skin with lasers. Other people, Other places A number of changes, fables; One's mind, the world adjacent. Fine, just fine, Never find time, Why bother in the prime of life, When eyes stretch beyond the tide.
Innasense
2020-10-10 09:54 pm
Warning: this is looooooong and if you’re a sensitive individual the first parts may bother you. But hopefully the last part will inspire you. Speak your truths friends. The ones who matter will love you all the harder. #worldmentalhealthday Hidden Stories They smiled, jokingly told her she looked tired, “Must’ve partied hard last night.” Smile quietly returned, “just didn’t sleep too well I guess.” She didn’t tell them how hard it was to get out of bed this morning, How sleep never came last night, How it felt like the darkness would just swallow her whole, How she felt hollow and empty and there weren’t any tears left, just an ache deep within that wouldn’t subside. And maybe if she just squeezed her eyes shut and stayed in that bed in the blacked out void, She wouldn’t have to face another day of faked smiles and “I’m ok” lies. “Just tired today I guess.” “It’s warm today man!” “What’s with the long sleeves all the time?” “Got some crazy tattoos under there?” He smiled, laughed along with them, Self-consciously ran his hands over his wrists. Over the bandages binding his secrets. They didn’t know how close he got last night, how he almost let go, How so much blood, HIS blood swirled down the drain, mixing with his tears. He was sure no one would miss him, but he wondered if he would miss this world, And the good days out in the sun, Few and far between as they were. What would they say if he were gone tomorrow? “You should’ve come out with us last night. You would’ve had so much fun...” She nodded and made those “next time” promises, though she knew they were lies. She’d stay home again, Wrapped in the icy grips of loneliness, Which felt somehow better than her burning cheeks when the right words just wouldn’t come, or the wrong ones spilled out, and she felt their eyes on her, Panic rising, thoughts frozen Wishing she’d just stayed home, Away from the judgement, And all the wrong moves she always made “Haven’t seen you around in a while! Doing ok?” His mouth smiled, head nodded, lips formed words he’d said so often, automatic. Because, really, he thought, How could I describe that moment last night, body curled up with forehead cold against the kitchen floor, Ears covered to block out the voices, Silent screams wracking his body as the panic overwhelmed him, No breath to speak, And who could he call anyway, How would he explain these moments of pure fear that slipped in unnoticed and become everything, took everything, until he was a shivering shell of himself. Sometimes he wondered, if they could see through him, would they think him weak? Would they walk away...? These people are all make-believe, but the experiences are not, taken from articles and discussions and sometimes even revelations from real-life friends. These are not my stories, but they are someone’s truths, Not their weakness, Not their short-lived sadness that they can just “get over” if you try hard enough to make them happy. (My gosh do I need to remind myself of that part sometimes...) But that doesn’t mean you stop trying. Love them y’all. Love them so damn much that you’ll sometimes break through the cracks in their self-inflicted armor. Listen to them, Give them the chance to be open and honest, And if what they say makes you flinch, imagine what it must feel like for them. Do something kind that makes them smile and get ready to do it again tomorrow. Smile and laugh with them. Cry with them. Be genuine with your thoughts and feelings. Give them space, but check on them. Pull them out of the dark for just a moment, say, “I’m here for you when you need me. And I always will be.” Mental health issues are often invisible, but still feel debilitating to the one inside that head. Stay educated. Be understanding. Love the hell out of each other. ❤️🧡💛💚💙💜🖤🤍🤎💗
Innasense
2020-09-13 09:15 pm
Poetry Satirized What is this thing they call poetry? It’s mostly “pretty words” you see Ok, maybe there’s a bit more to it... I’ll see if I can walk ya through it. We rap similes and metaphors, Figurative language whores Plays on words And turns of phrase Emotional squalor And issues for days Lovers lost And sadness deep Words that when trapped Keep us from sleep “Racing to the finish” Or dragging our feet And not to compete or attempt to defeat But simply To complicatedly complete Alleviate or desecrate All depends upon the date Or what kind of day we had Pissed off, celebratory, sad Or in poetic terminology, Raging, blessed, melancholy We personify and mystify “Let them see it through our eyes” We rhyme and reason Or sometimes we don’t It’s not that we can’t It’s more likely we won’t Abstract or concrete Or both all at once Painting deeeeeep pictures... But sometimes only of confusion Poetic delusions 😉 Words made in illusions Or maybe allusions? No wonder we can’t always reach a conclusion... So “pretty words” though they may often be, There is a bit more to this thing... Poetry.
\/