Gord
2026-09-09 02:11 pm
Sometimes, I feel alone, Like water over stones, Though as the river runs, Eventually, I'll find more. Like the ocean borders, Welcome with open doors, Like you and I, of course, No need for Trojan horses. Then, no need for anything more.
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Gord
2026-07-14 03:06 am
It's not the language they speak, It's that they speak my language, And they can pass grammar tests, Better than me. So, c'est la vie, To everything... Is that seriously your position? Egyptians watch people from the sea. Until the waves are overwhelming, Like you, they will be, at best, relief. It's not an answer to everything, It's that you walk down the street, Then talk to people. Instead of becoming antisocial, Cherry picking animal bones, And little use for any more. It's not semantic, or colloquial.
Gord
2026-06-04 10:00 pm
Little bug: Little pigs, Little frogs, Little slug. Finger work beneath civil tongue: Fish supper, friction with drums. A little brother, too big for hugs, A little bit of dust, bits of rough: Personality, but's and cynical plots, Digital work beneath a given tongue. What would you say to me honestly? That you wish I was crushed? Well, I'm not. I lived never thinking of you much. Where is your response? Little love for little bugs, Simple things, inner calm, bigger cause... More concern for grudges, Than writing another song. Give a little time, you give it up... A little pain, a little age, little fun: Singing about doors that are shut, Invisible cuts that the makeup covers, For a while, until the stage goes dark, Then begins your performance, Entertainment to little bugs.
Gord
2026-05-06 02:51 pm
In my arms, your arms, You talk, then I talk, But that life is long gone. For a list of things you are: Love of fine art, Love of my arms, Love for my mom, Love, from wild mobs, Hate for me deep in your heart. Does that, to you, seem honest? Pleas, bargains, Over t-shirts, waterbottles, Street artist and colleagues, In trap houses on Mary. Does that, to you, seem honest? They sleep under pizza boxes, Can never play in concert. For a list of things you are: Nothing like you were, Nothing in your arms, Nothing for the club, Nothing from your heart.
Gord
2026-04-18 08:52 pm
Dry fog, fight songs, In my arms, your arms, You talk, then I talk, But that life is long gone, A dry cough on a live vlog. What was it I lost? The right to be what I was? The fight to be what I'm not? From my thoughts: Fuck off. For a list of things you are: Love of fine art, Love of my arms, Love for my mom, Love, from wild mobs, Hate for me deep in your heart. Does that, to you, seem honest? Pleas, bargains, Over t-shirts, waterbottles, Street artist and colleagues, Live in trap houses on Mary St. Does that, to you, seem honest? They sleep under pizza boxes, Drunks, who can never play in concert, What was it I lost again? The right to be what I was? To fight to live and die on a cross, Live life on a cot? Instead, I'll climb the hill to the top.
Gord
2026-04-16 10:41 am
Love from the art class... Is everything the same, Or have you changed perhaps? If my tomorrow never came, Am I still just some faggot, That never had your respect? We both know front to back, When it comes to class, but What about our crossed paths? Does it matter, about the facts? Whether I fell to able hands, You would rather write about it, You already decided, so sing that, And when you finally do get to it, You shove it up your ass. Love, from the bottom of my heart, They never taught you art in class, And you never learnt good taste, Is everything the same? No... I would say you changed, perhaps, But you never had any fuckin class. And, that comes from me... Love, from the art class, All the way to the current of my heart: Things have changed, It's better you stay hard, man, A wave from across the bar. Far away, like your honest thoughts.
Gord
2026-04-01 08:32 pm
Your friend talked, You saw my disgust. How could you? It wasn't. I still called you drunk, Two thirds of what I thought, I should have called you hot, I should have told you what I wanted. Instead you talked until I fell apart, I realized your better off, That we could never be in love. Your friend talked, You tried to get her to stop, Honestly I wanted more, But I wasn't being honest. I was trying to be myself... Instead you talked, I realized you are better off, That you would see things I never would, That if I had told you what I wanted, That we could never be in love.
Gord
2026-03-07 03:51 pm
Where are all your pyramids? You stole my stones... Took my providence. What is a question for? Social dominance? Well stole upon my virulent, Conspiratorial penis and balls. So, stay as born, fisherman, Given, you play with your rod. No limericks or inwardness: Gibberish over impulses, Sickness, et al. Toward the emptiness I fall, Spheres and phallic symbols, Cheers, and then applause.
The Sophist
2025-11-01 02:58 am
Who's number 1 in all the world Who's get the laughs and includes girls Who's number 1 at sawing bones Who never lets you leave your home Unless you're going to the festivals Who's number 1 at selling oil? Who's number 1 at selling guns? What's the best city for having fun?
Gord
2025-10-29 10:17 pm
Give no lead, monster, It's a leash that draws me to you, Not drives me onward. Furtive, so be honest, What brought summer to autumn? You have no real problems, Dollars, and little conscience. So, be honest, give no heed, What is it, that changed your august, To a bitter, doubting Thomas? What is it that makes the sun set?
Gord
2025-10-08 08:37 am
Love, and then opera, Justification, self-pardon, I understand your problems, Respect my decision, Artha, and Dharma. What was the end product? Neither husband nor father, Can you blame the audience? 'Someone push me harder, On the swing that I have built.' Respect my decision, I wished I had died a martyr, Rather than see all of it. I understand your problems, Love, and then Scarborough. Songbird, sharpened bones, Opera, wooden home. Love, screaming nonsense, I understand your problems, Respect my decision.
Gord
2025-07-03 04:18 pm
You get 'get well soons' But lost one of the duo, Best friends, adieu. In the end, no hero, Ones turn toward zero, Just like one turns to ego, Just like people grow old. For, somewhere over a rainbow, Are untold highs, I'm told.
Gord
2025-03-11 04:39 am
Commit a crime and tell me, Uphill climb, and emptiness, Pills alter the mind, The novels I write aren't helping. I no longer deny blessings, All I had in life is French seams, Red meat and prayer beads. The movie is for the sex scene, Simple child, on empty, Pills alter the mind, Barrels this time, sweat beads. Why can't I, be like a chess piece, Alone, untouched by deadbeats? Webbing is where the spider eats, Domestic things involve police, Collective lives can then convene. A minor piece, A minor key, Minor to the ones who sing, A major deal on my journey, Despite wind, spiders scheme, What is not real is the bodies.
Gord
2025-01-09 03:48 am
Hell is where bones conjoin. Fell into boys, resin oil, foil... Paranoid terror, disappointment. What was worse, Your disease, or my point? Multiple choice questions on the medical forms, Your network connections on cellular phones. Joint ventures, a voice credits feminine for, But between the temples the evidence shows. Goodbye are the days, Yellow presence, White, like breast or loin, and yet, still like poinsettia, Red on the inside. Compare your sickness to mine, Hell is where bones conjoin, There to which the feathers fall, Quality of life destroyed, Vaporizer oil, foil, credit card, Paranoid terror, disappointment. The spider bites with sting of poison, Whether on the page or from an arm.
Gord
2024-11-29 05:03 am
Black smoke, campfire grows. Active social life, animal bones, Colder over time, as foretold, Feeling about ears, nose, Nothing, so what more? Vampires, see it all, To know red best, All days spent about the home, Mind a tiresome tempest. I provide solace, Meaning over time changes. Strangers though can too. I provide doctrine, Meaning over time changes, Strangers though will too. Vampires, to coffins, Kisses on the neck, I would draw upon it. Violet, Auburn, Inner strength, Flying monster.
Gord
2024-11-26 07:08 am
I see yellow, blue in disbelief. Spiritual sterility, misdeeds, Financial instability, tricks, Affinity for weed. Advocate for your beliefs, Maybe, about that, you should sing, Not wordsmiths, suicidal tendencies, And bowing, Hands and head about the strings. Red is the color of blood, Red is the brickwork at home, Red is the byproduct of cones, Red is the color of love, Cleft lips, crushed bugs, Insides of lungs. Scry from that what you like, But Toronto has a darkness, That should be red and white.
Gord
2024-08-20 07:34 am
I see the blue, I'm falling again. She talks into microphones, Pulls strings into her skin, What do they think, at home? While she pursues what she is. Death, where have you been? Can you still see the yellow?
Gord
2024-07-09 12:26 am
View from Toronto, others, also. Best seen, like without follow. A shadow, born of a shadow, How can it fathom less hollow, Habitual patterns in a modern world? Coming tomorrow is gun conflicts, Cult worship, communion with objects. The coward screams like an apostle. Future prospects, like luminous stars, Lay dinosaur bones in scarlet houses. Bloodshed so widespread and obvious, Like polearms in the side of your horse, Desire and goals become simply doors, Where do theirs divide from yours? Like ingots, in fire or war.
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