Gord
2026-09-29 09:11 pm
I saw through the night, My eyes, always on you, Instead of the knife. Wings, wild across the white, Heart still filled with horror, So, on and on - and out of sight. Naivety, leads to fighting, Like pencil leads to writing. Wings, used to fly, Like fathers are to leaving, No need to try.
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Gord
2026-07-21 07:28 pm
Whiter upon the mirror face, While rubbed upon, bitter taste, Why, are you so irritated? You will never see them as I see them, Dull, sullen and grey. Wool, spun into braid. What else should I say? I envy everything you have, Even if you gave it away. Writer, upon feeling erase, Like graphite filled veins, I have everything to give, And I can give it away. White, upon the fearing caste, While rubbed upon, bitter taste, Why? The fear of being placated, Like rubber farms treat waste.
Lynn
2023-05-12 09:32 pm
Sitting outside the shop on a cloudy May afternoon, my hand scrawls on the back of a receipt a list of the aspects of myself: - the moles in morse code down the side of my face ($4.99) - the scars on my leg in bumpy braille ($12.76) - the skin covering my knuckles, shining where it has split so many times over ($29.97, sale price) - the soul filled with self-loathing, boiling, bubbling over the rim ($10.19) - my spine, doubled over and bent backward ($17.22, CLEARANCE) - the effort I put into eject all but the smallest parts of myself as a collection of trinkets, an amalgamation of dust bunnies ($0.99) I must have picked these up, absentmindedly, through my time in the shop. Where can I put these back? I didn't want them. Why did I pay for them, pulling out my wallet in a daze? I never knew they existed. I must have entered a girl and left a much older woman. How long was I standing underneath the humming lights? I crumple up the scratch paper and toss it in the bin as the sun waves from the overcast.
Ell
2021-03-14 06:42 pm
I feel like an empty vessel cast away The only thing that hits my hull is the slap of a choppy wave I have no crew on board they all found the challenge to much The cargo I have is overflowing from deep within my hull The milk has soured & the whey of the milk is all I am able to smell I once was loved in such a way, the strength of it filled me up I know it is hard to see not that I am old & withered up The way she pulled me towards her, like there was always a rope connecting us The feeling this gave to me is far too much to describe I know that is is hard to see now that my ropes have frayed away The sails are saggy, no wind will fill them up My rudder seems to be broken, around in circles is the only way it goes I fill with dizziness, that is all too much & reminds me of the day the love went away I know I will never dare love again, this old hull can not handle it all again So I will keep going in circles seeing the same thing There is no joy, no crew to fix me up. The old milk, in the old vessel has been left on its own The stench will never leave.
Gord
2020-11-19 01:01 am
Bindle stiff of simple things, Fake brickwork buildings, Frugal beginning. Mind filled with bitterness, Still feeling ideas stone: Life constatant, slowly. Hands in gauze and clovers, One makes a river of oceans, A farm of forests, dogs of horses. Yet smashes up against the stone, Dark and lonely, eyes gloss over.
Innasense
2020-09-20 08:33 am
Third time was the charm A tormented soul bled out Life worth loving, lost Lonely surrounded,/ A house filled with laughter, but/ Today I feel blue Under darkest shroud/ These green eyes find no sunshine/ Not today at least Force another breath This impenetrable funk And me stuck in it Static in my head/ A sound no one else can hear/ And I can’t escape It’s a feeling blue For no good goddamn reason Sucky kind of day Disconnected from all Desperation rules my head The world seems too small
Innasense
2020-09-13 09:10 pm
Static Filled up with all that I can’t seem to say Brain buzzing ...Static... Like the constant angry drone of so many bees Short-circuiting and electrified Monological trappings trapped inside An open book With nothing to hide But still the words won’t come alive ...All I hear is static... Chest compressed and short of breath static, Static, STATIC Word obsessed, Linguistically repressed, Time-limited and hard-pressed Leaving me languid and distressed ...Static... Thoughts hellbent on sweet release Chasing words and losing sleep Those just-right lyrics are buried deep Underneath the static Ripping at my throat Itching in my fingers Insides aching Quivering, quaking All this FUCKING static .................................................... .......................... .......................... Frenzy fading Thoughts relocating Words spilled out Conscious creating A state of nirvana elevating And all I feel is Silence
Gord
2020-06-20 08:44 am
Sloganeering memetic, Lowly speaker of rhetoric, Teach us a world hate filled. He speaks of the sieve: 'It seeks to strain and divide, It sees two ways and aligns, Hands in bonds, eyes blind, Invest your money wisely, As do Gods on Friday.' Lies.
Gord
2020-04-21 07:02 am
On and on, Although my hands, they shake, Play with plants, on steaks, How am I to find my place? How am I to file down pane, File down pain, or file alone again? My violin is made from wood and string, My heart is filled from blood for simple things, Like dimples and rings, Like a simpleton's dreams.
Gord
2019-01-10 07:14 am
Open prose with my dignity, I am simple, Iambs, imagery, Trying to oven toast, With my sympathy lost. I hope for you another loss, Scotch socials, often postures, Costumes oft. Walls filled with posters, To wish you, where I was, As if my feelings forgotten. Open hose of complacency, Teach me your giving ways, Leach lead onto my face, My children's faces, My foodstuff casings. Tell me of today: "I Take not, responsibility. Taste, not digestibility, My style succinct, My rubber hole, Leaves rubber taste."
Gord
2018-11-05 10:53 am
My heart filled with love, Only my paintbrush coveted. Simply a coward with canvas, To give forms anew, forever, Formula new, for you toward, Perhaps to give in retort. To highlight, grey, Brush dusty and disdain, My desires of microphones, Speakers though, just saying.
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.
Gord
2017-08-25 11:58 am
Materialism shoddy, Outlook potty, In a world of rocks, I wish for a mouth chalky, Ground filled with chalk. Curve my bell aptly, Lord of the shinebox, Grant me world gaudy, Ending with gold trim, Upon a golden hem, Golden sheets, golden beds. Golden nails, Golden boards Golden floors. Wife scenic, Life ironic, Post Modernism.
Gord
2017-08-10 12:17 pm
Me? I once found love, It made no difference, They all forget to sub, And I made no income. A marriage valueless, The class clown flubs; Bell rings and we run, Fighters embracing, They man up, Fast t'was. Master of the gun facing Castles of his virtue, Backs still to the sun; Sacks filled with their cum, Save slaves of ignorance, To every man is worthless. Except when smoke burlesque, And living on canned shrubs. Maybe it should be, unless, You buy conqueror's seed, Then smoke it bluntly, with cannabis, sunglasses on;
The Sophist
2016-03-14 12:00 am
A confection, black and round. With sugar and gelatin. Found in allsorts; the young child's delight. Bound in or licorice filled. To maintain the same shape, See the molds are all pre-made. Shine, wax of bees, and molasses, Failing potassium, High blood pressure and heart failures, Can be found in some. Chewy ropes made, flat and round. Bound with gum arabic. As the crowd swarms, by trucks in the light. Absurd to stock it at will. To maintain the same shape, See the molds are all pre-made. Shine, wax of bees, and molasses, Effecting the young, Low IQs and behaviors, Green stools of your own.
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.
The Paraffin One
2014-10-02 12:00 am
Apocalypse they prepped for never came, For mother never even prepared for birth, All, Among the leaves rot the same, Yet none bother to even feed the earth. For all that shoots becomes hostile, Especially in the face of a newcomer; Lowe the god that shoots the tile, Bottle similar to that of his newborn. Quoth the bottle: Leave my spirit, No man burdened by free will, Suppose the throttle is under skirt, No man burnt will be free to chill. Suppose we see our freedom filled, Then who benchmarks freedom stilled?
The Sophist
2014-09-05 12:00 am
Smoke-filled and yearning childhood friend, Slowly insert the dagger again, He's dead, Never in my eyes, Ever in my head, A snake transforms to rope, Burning at both ends.
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