Gord

2015-11-19 12:00 am

Is this love, Alexander?
Promptly Cleopatra answers,
Dancers kicks, and spins,
Treat the story like a stage,
Improperly tuned for appraisal.
Alas I spend my days,
Fighting weary foes in cages.
My half heart being only paper,
Protected death in glass case.
Lament for my love continued,
Contained in a brass vase.

The Sophist

2014-09-08 12:00 am

Oh, I'm tired of secrets,
While I'm fighting off wolves,
I'm tired of insomia,
While sleeping in the woods.
Oh, I'm afraid;
That this whole world may be depraved,
And the only thing I lived for stabbed me in a prank.

My life,
My Brother,
And my old friend;
Slowly insert the dagger again.
The life that I saw 'fore me is dead;
So slowly insert the dagger again.

Forever I'll die and you'll stay a mess.

The Sophist

2014-09-04 12:00 am

Both sides support reform,
God I feel dumb,
Then I go back to watching porn,
That still too is dumb,
Ah, ugh, I'm wracking my poor brain,
Surely nothing can be done,
If something clearly is insane.

Begone to the pits of apathy,
Where men are fighting to succeed,
Be free from binds which binding me,
Lead me blind to blind society.
Truth be told it would be great,
To record sounds and meditate,
Without hoping to get paid,
Ad space isn't free,
We pity ourselves if ads are sent to peace.

We sent our brothers off to war.
Speaking of the fun;
Fighting for a rival hoard.
Dying in the sun;
Pierced by a brother's sword.
Ah, ugh, I'm wracking my poor brain,
Thieves thieved some time for fun,
Our heroes appearing more and more depraved.

To share the same disease,
Tortured through our dreams,
To decay among the trees,
Torment; a short and brutish piece,
Yet all of it is great,
Bleeding essence every day,
Alderson loop of disjunctive melodies,
Existence sings in remedies,
Never will the tempest ease,
Yet underneath there lay a silent tone,
Arranging scattered harmonies.

The Sophist

2014-08-27 12:00 am

What differs us;
Introspectively we diminish complexities of
 our forms.
This is why we have technologous inventions,
Rearranging norms.
We apply our new conventions,
First to rich and then to poor,
Not this our main intention,
But complex enough for sure,
To be the aim of this erection,
Before we put it in a whore,
Let's reflect on resurrection,
It is you you're fighting for.

Dusti Rodes

2014-03-05 12:00 am

A Week Away

A week away
A cottage in the Cotswolds
Solitary single socks
All in a line
On parade

Hands like hooks
Feet that throb
Barms and breezes
In Blackpool

Fortunes found and told
Tramlines
Scarring the seascape
Soaring seagulls
Hawk-like hands
Flaying feet

Seagulls that screech
Mayhem in Mablethorpe
Being Stumped in Boston
As to which way to go
Kiss me quick
Squeeze me slow hats

For edible orifices
Wonka's Willies
Trams travelling
Towards the Tower
And down the Golden Mile
From Fleetwood

North and South Piers
Sandcastles
Big and small
Towards Town
Postcard pictures
Picture postcards

Pencil drawings
By computer
The Mere at Marton
Limousines
And lycra-clad mirth-makers

Mobster's metal machine
Made from a Mini
National Savings & Investments building
Blocking the breeze
And the light
Standing in it's shadow
Comfortable caravans

Laughter from Leighton
Jokes from Jamie
Sparkling grape juice
All the way from Grimsby
Via the M18

Panoramic views 
From the highest motorway
In Britain
Deep dales
High Pennine peaks
In Yorkshire

Rain and sunshine
Traffic build-ups
In Blackburn
Blues in Burnley
Families fighting

Four-pint pitchers
Of foaming ale
Mussels and whelks
Oysters and orange squash
Cockles and crabs

People driving
Dangerously long miles
Without falling faint
Of fatigue
Passion in the Pennines
The castle moat

Golden sands
Tilting telegraph poles
Going up
And coming down
Steep steps
To silver sand

Shorelines stretching
As far as the eye
Can see
Whirling wind turbines
Whitewashed windmills
Scattered over the Northwest frontier

Unfurled flags
Flying furiously
In a westerly wind
Cod and curry sauce
Pen'orth o'scraps
And pots of mushy peas
Wrapped in writing

Mablethorpe Messenger
Blackpool Gazette
Cotswold Courier
Yesterday's news
Today's chip wrappers
Tomorrow's waste.


Dusti Rodes (2006)