The Sophist

2015-01-21 12:00 am

You know that you listen,
To the heart of my soul,
Beating harder and whole.
Hole deep darker than coal.
I give my volition;
To this part of my role.
Any home is my prison;
When I lack the control.

The Sophist

2015-01-13 12:00 am

Death of Ahmed Merabet,
Bit by cerebrus,
Defends our right,
To abet terrorists.
In death defends,
Their right to murder him.
I heard him die,
But not a word he said,
Unholy voice sings slandering,
Lives at diverse ends.

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.

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?

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.

Gord

2014-08-28 12:00 am

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.

Gord

2014-07-31 12:00 am

The wings and bonds of summer upon us,
The warmer months warm up on us;
Summer denounces winter, for lack of trust,
The lack of faith in its cold heart disgust summer.

W'ould bring upon us a greater bond,
Causes desperation euphoria then falter;
To fly upon the ocean, with lack of knowledge,
The lack of which is its fold into carnage.

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

2014-07-23 12:00 am

Law makes obligatory,
More than one Nation,
To waste business hours,
Achieving more profligation.

You shall not pass,
The whole world may perish,
From Brahma to a blade of grass,
But you are still here.

All uninhibitory,
Lord of Creation,
You are in all things,
You are in every location.

View darkness unmasked,
The whole world you cherish,
Will dissolve in a flash,
But still have no fear,
Knowing self world dissolves,
Ignorant it appeared,
You are the heart of awareness,
No less, end of story.

The Sophist

2014-07-22 12:00 am

I hear a voice,
A voice that is screaming,
Words with no meaning,
From lips I can't lean to,
If I try.

By chance or by choice,
By passion or comfort,
One or one hundred,
Sounds you can run through,
In your mind.

If you give it a try,
You can accidentally bike out onto the road,
Get hit by a car,
You can get drunk and die,
Body falls on a button,
Makes the world explode,
It isn't that hard.
If you're not young or retarded.

Theseisms destroy,
All classical meaning,
Those labels you're dreaming,
I'm going to eschew them,
If you try.

Sit back and rejoice,
I'm not trying to free you,
Nor'm I trying feed you my truth,
View beauty in tandem,
Anytime.

Life isn't a crime,
Keep your mind on a lovely abode,
Eyes watching the north star,
You can get drunk and not die,
Live all that is written,
'tis the will of the poet,
La palmure! J'am trop tard!¹
Soft sophist; sophisticated hardly.

Footnotes:
1. La palmure...tard "The web! I'm too late!"

Gord

2014-07-03 12:00 am

Cardinals, Priests,
Meadows of patients waiting.
Gold Dinar, feasts,
Falsettos of passion singing.
Bringing ashen feet,
Bellows and deep reservoirs.
Nothing but temptation,
Fleeting hearts, mellow minded followers.
Cheering on, like stallions they broke us.
Ignorant engulfed in a field of locust.

Gord

2014-07-03 12:00 am

Soul searching, to quench my thirst.
Burning coal. Dense smoke. Smouldering.
Yearning whence, we control the hearse.
Returning self-control and sense,
Only to those left shouldering.
Soul surviving artist dreampt the worst:
All of my love to her,
All of her love in return.
All for I have yearned.
Once dreams do I now incur,
Nightmares embraced with au revoir,
Left to die without concern.
Simply to never again be reborn.
Chorus Sings.

The Sophist

2014-06-30 12:00 am

I advise,
20 some-odd years of life,
To adhere,
To live for four more years,
And the reason to live for;
Four more years.

Do I love you?
I refuse to answer,
So the answer's no,
I walk home heart-broke,
Coat-less in the cold,
A propos of the wet snow.

Carving names in cave walls with a bone,
I plan a life before me in stone,
Four more years for us all,
And if the fall doth happen,
Four more years for us all,

I rise,
Rags to riches and homeless again,
No fear,
In the four year plan.
I devise,
To never be homeless again,
My reason to live for;
My own device.

If you want to run,
I will take you there,
Somewhere beautiful,
Eclipses everywhere,
Full-on inscrutable,
Just live for four more years.

The Sophist

2014-06-24 12:00 am

They told me to love not,
Or so the way it seems,
Now everyone loves but me,
Critics embraced, 
Mystics fought,
Sweet love to never be,
A conversation over tea,
Medusian eyes stoned, 
My forearms to my knees,
Huddled, statued, 'splayed in local park,
Monument to those cold and alone,
Monument of a man without a heart.

Gord

2014-06-16 12:00 am

Those with arsenic bedfellows, exposed.
Due to the TV show they gained exposure.
Closure to a chapter of chaos and rapture.
Posturing to a new hope, classically,
In hope that he masters poseur culture²;
How dramatically he captures folk,
Beards sip wine in¹ balcony of their brother.
It's the framework of laughter;
Silently I laugh as they excuse them both³,
Rendering their will less valid, excusing oath;
Adopting a framework of passtimes,
Instead of finding, lying among those guilty,
Chastising the filthy for soiled torn clothing.
Discarding carelessly the heart of an oak,
Instead of seeding they favour blind hope;
Sans man, would the trees still grow?
Forlorn will animals flourish?
The hands of man conceive the future, though,
Often he lacks the means to nourish.
The man will scream of price of grain, though,
Often he just lacks the means for omnipotence.

Footnotes:
1. latin for 'on the'
2. i.e. hipsters
3. unnecessary explanations given

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.

Known Chumpsky

2014-05-06 12:00 am

God and I touched lips, and we tongue kissed. Man, if God's 
a guy I'll be so pissed. You can have him, to shoot orgasms 
across each others' backs in a dark bathroom. I refuse to 
take God's cock in my asshole. I'd take God out to dinner so
I can meet his sister and fuck her. I heard she's younger 
and tighter, and when it comes to looks, I heard she's 
better. I begin to bestir; I'm afraid that God's a mister, 
and I want to fuck his sister.

The Sophist

2014-04-21 12:00 am

In the name of women's rights,
Two young men get pissed and die,
By the blade in his own hand,
By the rope he himself tied.
In the name of women's rights,
To never find out why,
To never hear converse opinions,
A mental homicide.
Bitches screaming loudly,
'til their voices touch the sky.
A lot of them are guys,
Barring men from their own brethren,
In the name of women's rights.
Hoards of them unite;
Birds in search of civil war,
Spread their wings in flight,
Planning only in the sun.
They tear away the night,
Blocking doors and bearing torches,
Forcing entry via fight.
As such, I fear I might,
Find my way to unknown speaker,
And be confronted via knife,
By fanatics without wives,
Or fanatics without husbands,
Living stark perverted lives.