Gord
2025-07-09 06:18 am
Wide use of incense, Tight, in defence, Armside, spiderwebs, Tight looking threads, Bride beside herself. In a sense, I require less, No accidental catch, No incidental crash, No occidental trash, Private gestures, wider netting, Quiet letters for me, tellings, Over ornamental brass setting. Is that too much to ask?
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Gord
2025-05-07 06:41 am
Thorough I write my kinship, Kingship, flagship furlough, Turmoil, searching for more. Is it just lies, unknowns? You seem to say so... Though, you write by wishing, Never anarchy and addiction, The things that you know. One more pint, by instinct, Stitches, side bitches, dislikes, sometimes singing. Is it just lies, unknowns? You seem to say so, Though, you live by it, Unlike any lyrics you wrote.
Gord
2025-02-11 07:33 am
To the final, pathetic, vocal squeal: Drum trials, pathos in guitar steel, Reference, for the crowd to cheer. What is gone, but was never there? What is a woman? Complacent? Like God, you take a bucket, Drown her in rainwater, It remains clear. Her body is still good for fucking. His money is still good for fucking, Her body is still good for fucking, Nothing. Ink then vinyl, out into the real, Drum trial, pathos to the feeling, Defence for the crowd that cheers. What is gone, but was never there? Magic, you chose a career, Not a life path. Defend that! Missives you can't recite back, Missiles, like knives to the back, Missing like writing upon a staff. Music was a mistake in the end, Mythic, like an axe upon a head, Without your controller in hand, What is gone, but was never there?
The Sophist
2025-02-04 01:45 am
Cage is not just a game that you play with your feet. It’s the Creative Arts of the Global Elite. Champions Clash, Attacking Goals in the heat, while Contenders Advance, Grinding Every defeat. Cunning Athletes Go where the Envied compete, and Courageous Acts Give Every game beat. Clashing All-stars Gather, Eyes locked in the street, with Chains Around, Goals Everywhere they meet. Cageball’s Arena Grants Excellence sweet, as Conquerors Ascend, Glory Endless and sweet.
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
2024-09-02 09:22 pm
Narrow perceptions, Narrow affections, Despite prayers, attention, Yellow shell for protection. State your objections, Friends for protection. But in your profession, You need a director, For help, or whatever, For the show you live in. And they have their agenda, Sex, successors, buzz levels, Namely, making you famous. Yet, if you know contentment, Can you ask god, Inside somewhere, is there yellow? I feel life swallowed me whole, Until I crack, cry and bellow, Like whales beneath the waves.
Gord
2024-08-20 05:38 am
Hair falls, past shoulder, Down halls into the hedge moss. Rapunzel, was it tulips you wanted? Yellow, and the part lips? Yellow, pears and olives, Yellow, stinking cartlidge. Snow yellow upon a sill at home. Allegro forms enforced, Yellow, fitted sundress. Rapunzel, was it tulips you wanted? Is that why your closet, is a garden? Yellow, fear of darkness, Yellow, pears and olives, Yellow, and their offspring, Though yellow, sit at home, Concerto forms enforced, Yellow, freedom destroyed. Yellow, what was it again you wanted? A garden? Why not hide in the closet? Yellow, barrelled shotguns.
Gord
2024-08-09 08:57 am
Desert sun, august morning, Sky, a butterscotch orange. Amongst all things, concerns: For paintings are ownership... Hopefully drawings disappear, Wrap your body in animal skin. Put a brush to your wrist, Go ahead, spill, Color all over... Hopefully canvas appears. Yellow, what say of the sea? Hardcore, double crossing, frog, Croaking of dark forces and fear. An unarmed soldier, war over, Still fighting with the hayseeds. Oh, Is this why blue pervades me? All things amongst me here, Sidewalks get ownership, You pay, then worship on them. All language, being borrowed, Gives power to some lawyer. Oh, Is this why blue pervades me? Yellow, what have you made me?
Gord
2024-08-08 01:00 am
She walks the tightrope, Calm as the sea, God decides not popes, Nor who is to be, She decides. Death, I'm melting, Ice to the skin, white, I hope my red is ending. Where is my yellow, Beneath gangrene? And what is the blue, Something to never see? Death, I'm coming, Touch my skin, white, I know my time is ending... Tightrope walking, thin, This, is more of a kids thing... I think...
Gord
2024-07-18 04:48 am
Forewarnings, foreboding, more, of the same, More... For: wants, colors, change, can mean more, Foreign from yesterday, and for tomorrow. For you, though, it meant ropes, choking, No more prose, or poems about fucking, Though, for you I wrote a few of those. To cast a shadow like Gord's gamboge: Wars at home, wars at the coast, Wars over gold, wars over posts, What is war, when you fight it alone? Yellow mustard that stains your soul.
Gord
2024-06-28 06:38 pm
In Her Dreams Everyday she grew more cynical, Forewarned in the way he spoke. 'What makes trees grow? Speaking indignantly? Lazy, form english is what bees know. Maybe there is more, maybe not. Leaves, and lace upon her form, Leers and mistakes on a forum, Leaves and paces about a home. Lady Clare, is this what you wish for? Mais oui, upon meeting, she says, but may we not once she sees him again. She begs, making peace, but, maybe not. What is under the stars, outside of the bar, Yet above us all? In her mind, her. But, actually, God. And he sees her like I see her: Alone by herself, just of her mom. Lo, girl, grate your feet, arms to nothing, Cognizant, you can see what's coming. So, use a word to cut deeper, I mean, Maybe there is more, maybe not... Say please, and release the lions... If a cognate speaks of alm, as always, Bet a fool falls, autumn again, as always, Winter follows. Bees, on their belly, in a playful sense. Wallows about woods and streams. Striped appearance, demeanor, feelings, He exits the scene with grace and dignity. Asking the same, but bees scream, race, As always, it's just the way things be. Swallow a mouth full of eggs, and honey, Forward, fundamentally things are different. Not just you and me, for everyone that sees us. The courts just take up space, mostly useless, And friends never show up to court you, bee, They treat you differently. You are less than me, because you are less than nothing, She says, and places her hands to the sun. Youth burning away at her bloodied stumps, Speaking in fear of a beast that runs, jumps, Eating the bunnies she dreams about...
Gord
2024-04-21 06:29 pm
Growler, empower yourself. Devour and use that tech, Devourer, utterer of rrr, Encounter, stout or sour. Prowler, of the prouder, On all four, growling, Looking at a round bottle. Wildflowers and spring's showers, Fountains boundless, Used as showers in the distance, Down the outer side runs a victimless, Bounteous red liquid. Doubtless I drink it to no funk, Growler talk, Ploughman and his bottle bud. Outside the thousands talk, Inside the pit they growl and bark.
Lynn
2024-01-17 09:24 pm
though it has been so long, i have not forgotten you. i have searched for you among the crowded shelves of bookshops, the cobbled displays of libraries, the take-one-leave-one boxes scattered through town. i have dug deep in my jacket pockets for the notes and coins needed to take you home with me. i have cradled you close to me underneath my coat while i am waiting for the 6:58 bus. i have found you in tulip bulbs peeking above the soul for the sun, late august thunderstorms that pelted our new apartment, the january wind that brings ice and chapped hands. you have made sure your spine stands straighter when i roam through each aisle, saturated and dewey with books. you have pushed the dimes and nickels into my grasping fingers so that we may spend our time together that much quicker. you have squeezed me hard as we step off the bus at 7:34. you have flung yourself through the sky and earth to find me in the smallest of stolen moments. you kiss my hands and my head and flush them rosy with emotion. you have not forgotten me either, it seems.
Gord
2023-12-08 05:14 am
The things he knows...
Are alike a hand that speaks in failure:
Painful flails, an esophagus.
While his mouth speaks toward disarmament,
and victims speak of the night.
So all hail the king, his rings and his might.
All the things that he owns,
Including the people as items, options
and things he derides.
So swing a knife, like a sword.
All hail the flailing arm for what it's worth,
Including the people he knows as thoughtforms and cites.
Cayenne pepper, nose.
A world alight.
A world, delight.
A wordly delight.
A world, a light,
Circles dance in the sky,
darkness seen with your eyes.
Alongside carmine, red and feathers:
prose, things they call wise
Gord
2023-10-30 05:49 am
Stares across the sheet of ice... Ningen, it lives! My fear subsides, Human eyes, inhuman smile, alive... it's alive! A light, like a flight, is a trial... Neat circles and straight lines! Figures, like a flight, need a pilot, Skies above have no time or pride. A night, like an iron spike, island, Eye's iris, thick thighs or curtness, Always keep a place and purpose. Unlike the Ningen, which flies... Just hopes to last another lifetime, Like longing stares into a glass of rye, Fish in the ocean or the turning tide. What falls from the sky? What god divines? What god provides? What father decided? Despite what he tries, like a Ningen child, Like looks across tables at what he despised. Like a fucking guy who likes to get fucking high, Although he decides, he decides, he decides... His mind often trailed nonsense, then he cried, Like a little baby, Ningen child that he hated inside.
Gord
2023-05-31 09:02 am
Compare deceased, compare diseases, Civil registry, never ending dreams. Quiet, discontented tree: Questions vex me silent, Why do we drink of selfish need? Why do we eat to reddish green? Why do they scream your scaring me, While I achieve new levels of self deceit? It responds, about roots and leaves, Tools and people, fools and fees. It's beyond me to understand. Again indeed. Only man writes with a pen, Ire infinite, to the final syllable. A point most misunderstand: Life is not miracles, appearances, Science fiction or analyzing images, It's mostly the wheres and whens, Indeeds said again, friends you miss. Like all the pyramids get built, You'll find they went brick by brick. Like kids, chimes in the wind, Ideally they play without worry, Not re-examine life endlessly, Like a firing squad that never hits. Like a chime without another, It takes only one to be lonely, Two people to live. Hair recedes, favour leaves, Ferris wheels and screams, Once again, the tree speaks, This time about seasons, Blues and greens, Views and seeds, You open your own mouth, freely, Someone else's dreams. Again indeed. A mirror responds vaguely, Instead of self reflection sees, Things that terrify, Even when they close their eyes and they sleep. One could compare their life to a sheep, Sheppard, or favoured elite. What one eats someone decides, Where one sleeps someone else decides, Who one sees is limited, they cry. But they compare to a bar too high. Then with their time, belies, nevers, freezes. Feelings of timidness, cheapness, lies, Triangles you hope to avoid thinking, Inevitably though you need drink. You need some chips, think about it. You need a horse to ride to the store, Because you're lazy as shit. So I guess just hope for the best, But also go for it. Again, Indeed.
Gord
2023-04-23 07:53 pm
Once in a lifetime event, Arrives by themself, A winding stare, Polite requests, tired guests, Inside the knife twists. How can I make this about myself? Fits, detest in the form of comments, Regrets, pride, lissome denial, hits. How can I make this about myself? They think, screaming into the abyss, How can I make this about myself? Complaints, debates about nonsense, Speculation about arrangements, Coughing, several games maudlin, Talking about options freely. Providence. The final act, the lion dances, Forgone reactions, lying, Along with crying, antics. They exclaim their passions, As does the crowd. Again they feel the knife twists, As they are thrown to the ground.
Gord
2023-03-29 05:31 am
Swordsman, go home! Forests shall be no more, Our taste for war is gone, Favoured trees have grown. Nobles shall be no more, No new kings be proclaimed, Of all her princes, gone, Her world led astray. Open doors, open forms, Cold, Enourmous castles, Forts, or formal courtyards. Informal castes, people, Making walls, floors, or ceilings. It matters where you stand, to the boards. Suppose also, toward unknown, Battlefields always need a war, Despite reform, broken bones, Foreign loans, foreign ownership, Moral codes or mortal blows. For it heeds no appeal, Not even for their souls. Dinner for four, e un quarto However, foremost, they see trolls. A photo's floorboards, reasons for war. Yet they sit aside and hope for resolve, Fear in their heart they hope to ignore.
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