Gord

2018-10-10 01:06 pm

Soon, my rooftops ventures velour,
While his felt cap.
So my life could be but parkour,
Hostile to this running man,
Denying his own strategy.
Assume my caricature ugly,
Underlying themes, nothingness,
Prion disease and brain eating.
I scream, away, shoo
Like strained water, drained,
Boon by foolish penmanship true.
Dry humor, dishes in an apartment,
States his wishes, his way were apt,
One could have but half, contrite,
In manacles, retarded and live happy.
Perhaps education provides a tragedy,
In return, for pardon of inadequacy.
So, I too tiptoe guarded garrisons,
My bliss beheld past,
Soon their life could be of boars.
Therefore course I lick, 
Stamps compelled to stick,
What am I? A Saliva Lich?
On course to death? Rich.
I would embrace the quick,
Lest this lifetime of fists.

Gord

2018-10-04 03:54 am

Waiting, spicy feelings,
Hands tingling, vitae.
Dial again,
A few moments away,
His reckoning,
My fate.
Fountain, fairy meeting,
Handsome thing, you love?
Felt such was nonsense,
Your heart a curd, confess.
Your heart abscess, turd,
You depart as if fuss undue,
Who could stoop so low?
To like remarks of word,
A lonely teenager,
To be touched absurdly.

Headlights flashing,
His fools, my athletes,
Picture captured,
Is this your image?
Then post a back link,
Or get your ass kicked.

Gord

2018-09-19 06:50 am

As poet, aspire, assume desire,
I wrote for poets, declining,
Prose for poetry, I grew designer.
More spoke, iron, strewn aside,
Cycle heroic for biking true,
Though as porch, her mire I knew.

To sit in snow, still forever, cold,
Gladly to mix into a sill window home.
Lover's letter, one pens from notes,
To end on soles, or in bags of herion,
And never spoken, lovely, but phoned in,
In drunken speech, early in the morning.
As men, we aspire, and assume desires,
I wrote for Odin, always refining,
Notes for nobody, I grew aside,
Man of the world, I knew her ire.

Gord

2018-09-12 09:04 am

Solemn acoustic, play yourself,
Silent, foolish, I wait for death,
My chord arrest, My Lord attest.

Holland music, half my breath,
Tax my address for half my wealth,
Alas my protest, perhaps my stress,
In direct response, my indirect.

The woman scoffs at his giving gifts,
Living gifted is not an ornate box;
Richly leveraged when you need a lift,
More alike to a light that is simply off.

She says, take me out, tonight,
Whereto the people are young,
Bodies are loose, fabric tight.
He says, mistakes and lies,
Too young to accrue true views,
He mocks and chides.

Gord

2018-09-05 06:07 am

They write light of my writing,
Erudite Facebook, liars' rights,
Poetically I am but humble,
Penning comedies of tribe.

Unlike, Unlike, Unlike,
Unlike my peers, I replied.
Despite fears and sighs,
My stride upright, austere.

Alas, long grass, an axe,
Tomorrow fills, fellow actors,
Craft jazzy, played by amateurs,
Demanding average.
Eyes glassy and skills assay,
Alas, follow mass, a bass,
Screaming of typeface, in your face.

Gord

2018-08-29 12:46 pm

I have a shelf of books, all ashes.
My most disastrous,
Poetically immaculate.
Writing of real life intangibles,
Kissing a boy by the shore, 
While the crowd screams more.
That's the 21st century, man,
Progress a little beyond books of ash,
Paper plates and cheques for cash,
Beyond are spaceship parts beneath trash.

If Etan must, they probably may have done,
So if May is upon, another spring comes,
Against a flower one cannot lean butt,
Especially with the shadow cast cut across.

Don't show up at the poetry contest,
Rhetoric political, ignorant, floral, passe,
Or expect they place you last, lame, fake.

Gord

2018-08-28 11:03 am

My belly white, tattoo skin black.
World external floating my inlet facts.
Arms extended, hurled outward to any man,
At least stolen by chance; At last romance.

Of snakebites, stated minds,
Or nothing. The badger writes.
Science though he knows nothing of,
Only fighting and dénouemen love,
Fakery and the image source he knows,
Yet facts alas in the seeds he sews,
Spits on the dirt, who,
He walks upon with shoes.

The Sophist

2018-07-30 11:53 pm

Just getting laughs from the old guard now
Epitaph in town for an old sound
It's jokes, man
How much we fuck around
This place
This time
Joy that I have found
Do a flip
Throw a lock
Knock 'em down

Gord

2018-05-11 07:30 am

Rhetoric plastic, poetic, exhausted, flat,
Writing financial, desperate, jotting of man,
Jotting of women, writing like Hopkins' cat.

Knocking, hawking, a life exhausting.
Like a bat, man wishing to live robin,
Honor lacking, yet adapting cotton.
Promises not lacking, action falters,
River flows, close your eyes,
Wake up to another life.

Gord

2018-04-24 03:17 pm

Poster of an omen, toking,
Dreaming by a plastic ocean,
Most fast forward, hopeful;
King of post, tasks chosen,
Still lives Midas, hands golden.

Lapland where they dig holes,
Smoke weed and dance poles,
Kings of the foal, antsy, cold.
The older they grow, though,
He loses his power, cowers,
Curses feeling, eats pantry.
Banishes his people of necessity,
Carelessly manages feeble himself,
Paddles the plastic ocean, relieved;
Departs common and flowers nothing.

Gord

2018-04-04 05:14 pm

Poster of an omen, toking,
Dreaming by a plastic ocean,
That most fast forward, hopeful;
King of post, tasks chosen,
Still lives Midas, hands golden.

Lapland where they dig holes,
Smoke weed and dance poles,
Kings of the foal, antsy, cold.
The older they grow, though,
He loses his power, cowers,
Curses feeling and eats.
Banishes his people of necessity,
Carelessly manages feeble himself,
Paddles the plastic ocean, relieved;
Departs common and flowers nothing.

Gord

2018-04-03 07:08 am

Lemons lie, apt,
Lime euchre too,
Not unlike jazz.
Timing foolish,
Notation tulips,
Rhythm moonlit,
Foregoing movies then beauty.

Routine flows like gravy,
Poutine without cheese,
Potato man, Potato head,
But smell bueno,
She relents.

Gord

2018-02-09 01:57 pm

Always crows flying, living Ottawa,
Silence as loud as a passing truck.
Liar of the present, fool future,
Suture and praying for none at all.
Always comedies written, hands numb,
Painter finishes his castles, backward,
Words tired yet landing with oomph; 
Posture lacking, Skull bashed in,
Tomorrow's recluse and marked man,
As the crowd begins, he rescinds.

Gord

2018-02-08 05:06 am

A poem written in jest,
Forgive my candidness.

Live life a person kinder,
Man damned and woman candor,
Sky full of condors, vultures,
Even politicians disgusted.

Red lines and yellow subjects,
Life full of candid sculptures,
Culture vulgar, Butler colored,
Abreast cigarette smokers,
Who vote for nothingness.
A king of the foreward,
And cowards who sit home.

Gord

2018-02-06 09:34 pm

She lays, sunbathing,
Awake in the sunset,
Placed as an epithet,
Following but shadow,
Celebrity malleable.

Sequence engaged, tomorrow;
Letter sent too late,
Bed slept in layman,
Words dear borrowed,
But a fool too vague.

Sheets in disarray,
One saves time folding,
Sleeping on top.
One who faces the cold,
Has no reason for folio,
Numbering hardships for foals,
Galloping into the distance,
Their grandeur taught.

Gord

2018-01-31 06:56 am

Letters written of nonsense,
Inner conflicts, profits,
Constantine of outfits,
Proud of their holes.
Opposite, of continents,
Sinkholes, swallowing,
Mere weathering problems,
All they do is disclose.

Imagine a world insolvent,
Overpopulated and cold,
Where fistfuls of dollars,
Are better off.
Plastic like the ocean,
Poetic hopeful, Scotland.
Politically motivated,
Heart emplaced.
However honest, lies of fate,
One defends an idea flagrant,
Upon a hill of nothing sacred,
Fairness being the continent.

Unless one wishes a life content,
In a country of many ferrets.

Gord

2018-01-09 07:37 am

Calculated lies of mitigation,
Circumventing a sky, of no direction,
Stars without conviction, shy to glow.
Mine to hold, like guy insecure,
They lie themselves, of times of old.
 Of Starlight swung across the shores,
However permanent their sky azure.
Like fire burns, administered thrones,
A King burns, as his kingdom below.
Too hot to be stolen, too hot to hold,
Yet hands like cold, death incarnate.
Lies foretold of fellowship honest,
History written of crying sole.

Gord

2017-12-29 12:45 pm

He writes fights, such sadness,
Insult poetry, of life invalid,
Views fantastic, mantelpieces.
Cameras and angles fandangled,
Manic as the fan they turn.

Misunderstandable, as most magic.
Penned plans turn older, forever,
Less recognizable, less clever,
Done before.