Jack Scott

2016-02-20 12:00 am

Jack Scott

2016-02-14 12:00 am

Gord

2015-11-27 12:00 am

The pale light through red eyes,
Seen together as a final sundry.
Comely mirrors reflect their lies,
An everlasting world forever lacking,
Revenge exacted, love never lasting.
Metaphorically, a life placed in plaster.

The Sophist

2015-09-21 12:00 am

Three loveless dynasties divine.
Providence in sheep inside.
Bleeding,
'Treating to be blinded.
The Feigning Suicidals.

Three peasants covering their eyes,
Not displaying thoughts inside.
Blinded,
'Treating to be bleeding.
A hopeless heart reciting.

Bed made and three pillows aligned.
Love lost 'tween a bout and twine.
Meaning,
Ends of never starting,
Twelve sorrows between two hearts.

Twelve hearts;
Their grief imparting.

Twelve stars align to follow charts.
Cosmic games of skeet in the dark.
Teeming,
Conducted by the stars;
An opera of three parts.

The loveless damned to be confined,
Only singing chorus lines.
Finding love within their sources.
Slamming on their desks with sore fists.

Bed tossed and our feelings opined.
Love found 'tween a tackle and twine.
Value,
Still,
But still restarts,
Twelve griefs of an ardent heart.

Earnestly,
Your soul departing.

The Sophist

2015-06-09 12:00 am

I have grown with the band,
When I couldn't sleep,
When I lack intrinsic wake.
When I watch them take the world;
I feel I do the same.
Symphony for a pilgrim's soul,
Divine beyond these finite words,
I dream to see them live.
That bond will never break.
Forget not,
Those tunes will never leave my brain,
Akashic records play forever;
Even in my grave,
I'll always love those men;
So much it's prolly gay.

The Sophist

2015-05-22 12:00 am

I gave you that;
Which wasn't half bad.
I gave you love;
If you consider my dad.
Never gave my mom,
Anything we had;
So if I give you love,
Be warned I'll take it back.
If you find my love one day,
Just don't take it half bad.
Maybe it'll last for a day and a half.
I sip hate with a handle;
Pouring love with carafes.

wanderer

2015-05-05 12:00 am

I lie eagerly awaiting for your return
exhilarated by the thought of your lips
once again touching my famished soul anew,
then by the light of the moon you hesitantly came,
first, a gentle, subtle caress
gingerly knocking on my sands
then 
a gradual deluge,
enveloping
consuming,
the whole stretch of my being
and as I lie prostrate ,
ecstatic with our intimacy, 

you have once again retreated silently
to the mighty vastness of your benefactor..,

But you shall never be mine,

for the ocean is a jealous lover.
and I am eternally condemned
to be your willing mistress
caught in this perpetual longing
waiting
anticipating
desiring
For the next cycle....

Bhat Naieem

2015-04-20 12:00 am

Whenever i open
My wallet
And have a glance
Of your angelic brow
I gaze and gaze
And keep gazing,

Floods rise
In my eyes
My heart overflows
Emotions and pain,
Deep inside, cold wind 
Of need and desire blows,

And the flashes
Of all past memories
Conquere
My mind,
And my emotions
flow thru my pen

So, I'm caging
The days
Of your gracefullness
And my heart 
In the immortal 
words of my poem 

And after centuries
While they
Read me
They will see
You Beatiful 
And young ,

For my heart 
And my 
Words 
Would never
Let you 
Grow grey

Bhat Naieem 
All Rights Reserved

Gord

2015-03-03 12:00 am

Voice 6:
Who plays Beethoven upon my door?
Truly he be hooven and poor morally,
For a husband just died in my arms.
Knock not or at least form formally,
For normally impatience is paid poor.

Voice 7 (whispers):
Quickly.

Voice 6 answers the door abruptly.

Voice 6:
You were not to arrive until morning!
There we could consummate cordially,
Declaring our love in the afternoon;
Could it be you interrupt my mourning,
Because you could not go without me,
And thus arrived in story too soon.

Voice 7:
I may have come too soon, 
But not over you, my love,
Never have I had such pain.
I request to have it again,
For I feel such remorse,
No man should be slain,
Lest by hand of a horse.

Voice 6:
Quiet, Guards hear the whining of dogs,
Horses not led by hand but by emotion?
Worker of ideals, concepts and notions,
Walking upon my silken floor in clogs;
If disgust in yourself is your only sin,
Can disgrace be upon an innocent facade?

Gord

2014-12-05 12:00 am

Triad written, triad lost.
Writer smitten upon those accost.
Freely written upon winter snow.
Merely smitten with long lost globe.
Toward the mark I ride alone,
Never to hit only return to atone.
So, yes, I did smoke the dope.
I french inhaled and redistributed smoke.

The Sophist

2014-10-30 12:00 am

Doll Robert in a sailing shirt,
Ever lurks through souls deserted,
Tall akward leaves a trail covered,
Never hurt but he scared the girl.

Gord

2014-10-27 12:00 am

Trysts seem so juvenile,
Society seems so obsessed,
Piling on, cracking tile,
Possessed gods false dressed,
Never again to remark.
Quiet piety trumped,
They never said to hark,
Only to trumpet forth.

The Sophist

2014-10-16 12:00 am

Perceptions growing crazed between schisms,
Deceptions of the rain going with them,
Exceptions never made to drink chrism.
Receptions always strained,
So please listen,
Meditate on chronoceptions of infradian rhythms.

The Paraffin One

2014-10-08 12:00 am

Depressed, never to make lasting impression.
A denizen of hope to never make the finish.
Yet gladly they have made no procession,
A gentleman leaves, not extincting the fish;
Yet, gladly the simple fish onward,
Unrealized is their colony of cowards,
No love and no goal worked toward,
Fools with lofty goals pulled Earthwards,
Nobody cheers as the people awe.
Nobody cares as the people stand jaw slack.
Nobody leers in care as they're not the law,
Nobody fares well, so they want old law back.

However the rulebook of old is lost.
Common sense now too far past is post.

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

2014-09-25 12:00 am

Decay and the rifle alone. Censored by Gods as 
cold winter snow passes men stuck in glop as 
it blows. Who knows? What the fuck does a soul 
call a home? Accepting ideals without gloves 
being shown. Refuting belief but still knowing 
that something transcends all of time, space, 
math, and the know-how. Gloating but feeling 
in pain for lost souls turned wayward, 
corrupt, or depraved by the fallout.

Take it in, as it turns out, by talking in 
strides with the crowds. Softly speak glop 
when it counts. Slowly speak up, and never 
speak out.

The Paraffin One

2014-09-18 12:00 am

Classlessly the entire generation asks,
Perchance who is to breathe this air?
Perhaps they know not of gasses,
How easy they are to acquire, wherever.
Why not just call someone a thief?
Why not a liar, or simple cheat?
For selling someone a leaf,
Calling gold that found among peat.
Couldn't ignorance be but a plea?
With no common ground to stand,
Everything you see marketing fleas,
Ticks suddenly drop in market demand.
Concept, is a concept if you understand conception.
The epitome of tomorrow claim they never got the lesson.

The Paraffin One

2014-09-16 12:00 am

Crime rate bears no relevance,
As evidence now confesses,
Relatively they decide evidence.
An industry denies its heritage,
Evidently they know confused:
Rage declines its benefits,
Never does it consider time,
Crime is of no relevance,
As victims now stand blameless.