The Sophist
2014-08-08 12:00 am
First I make suggestions, Then I make demands. With my hands I teach you lessons, Beat you with affection, Bleed in my perfection, Military dance. I've never felt so much, Bliss in my life, With my knife cut a grudge, Head off with a touch, Headlong in my hutch. Present for my wife. I call this self expression, Pissing in my pants, With my rant cause indigestion, Racist in intention, Hostile when I'm questioned, A laugh I think is grand, Apostates cut in sections.
0
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
2014-07-24 12:00 am
If only I had money to make bets, I'd bet some lunatics have somehow met, To plan silent auctions for dead men, If I won I would buy Casey Kasem's head.
The Sophist
2014-06-27 12:00 am
If this be in 'plaint, Let it slap the taint, My GAD spooks the best in the medical community, Gadzooks, If I were a saint, I'd be the saint of head cases with no cure or immunity, Let loose, No 5150 in the Land of Impunity.
The Sophist
2014-06-17 12:00 am
Youth dreamed a smiling father, Age and wisdom despise it, Youth aimed at trying faltered, Where misfortune is a muse, Poor ol' fortune is abused. Handed off and thrown away, Opulence burnt dead thrones, Meaning in our days are found, Amongst marginalia on headstones.
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.
Aharon Yosef
2014-04-14 12:00 am
Vested in reality, Blood of beasts and saints. Destin blind with empathy, Believing self divinely great. And I suppose that's fine? I mean, Hey; What of judgements cast as mine? Howbeit, What of judgements cast as they? Pretending watch though eyes are blind. Lay my head in shallow water, Watch my face in clouds pass by. Let me drown as hallowed fodder, The message, Nearing. The message, Fie! Simple timeless truths elude us. Clouds in our heads, Dreams in our skies.
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.
Gord
2014-04-09 12:00 am
No head of lettuce larger, Plus no trade embargo. No policia to stop us, bro.
Gord
2014-04-04 12:00 am
Wait Waist! Stay in Place! I should've eaten more at subway. I aimed at abstaining, dammit.
Gord
2014-04-03 12:00 am
I find fault at the way we speak. Common practice happens to be harmful. Why not cause change? Because It's not change you seek. You seek far less than mediocrity; Practice harder and ply a trade, Realize what it is to carry an armful; I find fault at the way kids speak; The common practices, owning Iphones. Of their needing to cause change. Of standing and telling me I'm the cynic. Standing with less skill than Dionysus; The propaganda industry only has 50 years; No readable peer review, judges or pundits. Industry fooling people into contributions. No revolution, strictly opaque movement. True knowledge occult only by emotion elicited. We just don't need a German Nazi Party revisit.
The Sophist
2014-04-01 12:00 am
BGEA, Time to bash on gays, Time to bash on Asian food, Don't just bash to haze. Bash some fucking heads in too, Bash some fucking brains, Bashing all the lunatics, I'll bash them all insane, I'm bashful in my private life, Bashing costumes in the gaze, Bashed my own head full of dreams, Abashed, I bashed them all away.
The Sophist
2014-03-24 12:00 am
For all those lost in darkness of the rain, Shelter's on the way, and sun will shine again, Fluttering truths in their sleepless pain, All their dreams estranged. For all whose love still rules the heart, Love itself possesses nothing for our art, We row ourselves upstream in barrels, Throwing Apollo ahead-start.
The Sophist
2014-03-21 12:00 am
Hermetic Hymns fill his head, Unwell-read, Thoughts in pericope, Polemically said. Honesty overdue, If I'll ever be great, I'll have learned some things too, To Hell with the Ganges, My mind bathes in You. The Steerageway, Poetically Youth, Polemically True.
The Sophist
2014-03-12 12:00 am
Seek introspection elsewhere. I'm here to burn my hands on incense smoke, Telling God stories of my trysts, Of all the times he missed. To a world I doubt is there I'm yelling my plans to an absent bloke, telling God stories of my dick, Of all the dames I dream it chokes. Vocals crack on air, The priest is watching alone. I stare the beast in his eyes, and keep yelling despite. I draw a circle, a square, Triangle, circle, and begin to invoke, Two homunculi inside, The smallest circle defined. Behold, contrast and compare, Presenting the Philosophers Stoned, Their knowledge is blinded, And wisdom unwound. Priest still watching me stare, I rub ash on my forehead and go, To the front of the alter, No foot dare to falter, I scream and still nobody's there. <img src="https://www.aspoet.com/src/img/avatars/philosopherstone.gif" height=300 width=300></img>
Gord
2014-03-07 12:00 am
Teach me to breathe again, Teach me to fish among the bears; Until boars bearing teeth sheath their wares, and thus keep secret to themselves, cares; I care naught, to teach me, teach me not; Those that let me rot gave me teeth; and then taught me of freedom through proxy; Thus keep secrets to yourself, forget them not; In age I will not be forgotten, A new age will dawn upon them, A swirl of value, morality is drawn in; Only remembered are those who ascend to godhead;
Dusti Rodes
2014-03-05 12:00 am
Picking up the Pieces The wind ripped up my roses, Tore down the tomatoes, Mangled the mint; Crucified the coriander, And the carrots. Belted the beans, Both French and Runner. Obliterated the onions, Lashed the lettuces; Bruised the beetroots. The mighty sunflowers sagged, And the potato heads were Pulverised to pulp. As for the apple blossom, It wilted with the weather. The snap-dragons snapped, The foxgloves fought well; But only went a couple of rounds; Till they too, joined the lupins on the ground. The hollyhocks held their heads up, When even the willow waivered. And I am left, Picking up the pieces. Dusti Rodes (2006)
Dusti Rodes
2014-03-05 12:00 am
A Day in the Life I Morning Up early for a Sunday The clock says eight But even that's late For what we have to do And where we've got to be Breakfast hastily eaten A schedule that has to be beaten The taxi comes just on time The clock strikes the half nine The train will leave at ten So we have to be there then II In a railway waiting room People sitting Waiting for the train Some just there To get out of the rain The sun is starting To shine now Making the outlook Better somehow The fire Glows brightly Offering security In its warmth There must be a hike Somewhere By the amount of people Going there Dressed in their anoraks And their boots A passing express Gives warning toots Waiting for the train To friends Still far to go Before our journey ends Although having already Come this far Still there are miles To be travelled By car Sitting patiently, waiting For the train Marking time To the pouring rain III A ride through the countryside At our destination We are met Commiserations Hoping we did not get Too wet Outside the station They had parked the car Comfortable seats Our journey Not to mar We are off Through the countryside Making quite a pleasant ride Of our quest To the coast Never really deciding Which we prefer the most Ever onwards We are drawn Towards the outskirts Of Eastbourne IV Eastbourne Eating eggs Hard boiled Liver sausage sandwiches Cheese and ham Fried sausages Oranges too What a sight For people to view Throwing stones Into the sea Stopping to watch The tide roll in Then a walk Along the pier Perhaps to stop For a cool glass of beer Buying ornaments Made of glass Playing the games That made us laugh Throwing balls Into walls Listening to the radio In the warm Then on again It was said Towards the crags Of Beachy Head V Beachy Head Climbing up To the Bell Tower Pausing to view A lonely flower The long climb Winding a few The breathlessness Well worth the view On looking out to the sea So calm One could scarce believe It could do so much harm Then suddenly The gunshots Warning us of the coming rain So we quickly make our descent again The rabbit droppings In the tufted grass Is the sight I remember last The gulls wheeling On the wind Showing aerial acrobatics That Man will take A thousand years To conquer VI Newhaven When the tide Is full in It is a facade To walk along The esplanade At Newhaven For the angry waves Batter the man-made wall Persistently trying To make it fall Spraying Unwary travellers With showers of stones And the flying Sea spray That rusts Even the lamp posts Within a month The road to the west This is our quest Pass the ox-bow lake On the river That meanders Through the open fields Filled with Sweet smelling air The road takes us Past the harbour Where, the ' Chichester Star ' Lies anchored there Moored at her rest VII Brighton The Palace Pier On a Sunday Even in March Full of people Having fun Some lie on the beach Catching the sun That hides Behind the clouds Of the rain-filled sky But here we do not stay Perhaps I'll return Some other day The time has come Not to linger Drawn ever onwards By a wandering singer Dressed in sandals And in jeans Singing songs of the Changing scenes Sentiments felt By myself He did quote. He sang, Whilst I wrote VIII Shoreham Dark, dank and dismal Grey and grim Stands the power station The side, the day-tripper Does not see The squalid surroundings Of the industrial side Where the rubber factory Takes the coke works For its bride There, beside a mountain Of metal scrap Stands a fellow In a cloth cap Surrounded by Carcasses of cars Burnt out By long cold fires Wasteland covered With prickly briars Rubble strewn around Sweet papers, magazines Stones cover the ground The road carries on Pass the gasworks To playing fields Where people sit watching Others using their energy To a useless end A steel girdered bridge Spans the road Along by which The river still flowed IX Worthing Having high tea In the lounge Sardines, rolls Tea and toast Watching the sea Leave the coast Playing the pin machines With pennies Reading the paper To find the news Desperately needing To use the loos Off on our trek again Running from the Fast oncoming rain X Half a league ..... Destination somewhere In the west Selsey, probably At the very best Time, like the tide Rolling on Light of day Has nigh nearly gone The lights burning Along the road Turn from the palest pink To shimmering gold Eve draws on Darkness, soon to follow A level-crossing That isn't so level In fact, the road Looks like more of a bevel The road becomes Winding and long Making us remember The young minstrel's song Following the line Of cat's eyes Broken only By the sound of sighs A solitary star Guiding us, as of old The weather becoming Increasingly cold The long boring night Is broken By the bright lights Of the big service station At Crawley Say as they might To me, the most welcoming sight Was that of The Thorns pud At Horley Liquid refreshments For parched dry throats Although there was nowhere To hang our coats Having once Quenched our thirsts The road leads on To Billinghurst Then on down Cowper's Lane Just as it starts Again to rain In the comfortable warmth Of her home We are again Free to roam Tea for three And one for coffee Arguing who'll get to eat The very last toffee Onwards then, Homeward bound The car really seems To leave the ground Till the lights of Croydon Are encountered And as we are at our door " It was fun, we must do it more!" The two of us Climb the stairs Once again To all our cares Very quietly Into bed Nothing more It has all been said. Dusti Rodes (1975)
\/