Gord
2024-10-21 09:30 pm
Chestnut, voices, Gone are the old days, Better choices, Monochrome planes. Upon canvas the mind paints, Scarlet the shade, Far from water and rain. Gone are the old days, Fire took the farm. Childhood sweethearts, I could be wrong, But fire looks good, to us all, When it's on a smaller scale, But on canvas or stage, Fire, has no proper place. Soon you'll see, things gone away, I could be wrong, fire looks good, When upon a crown and on a face. Maybe one day you'll see these things, Not the sullen, lonely greys.
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Gord
2024-10-15 08:59 pm
Red, rabbit owner. Filler of the holes, Horror, else. Where do rabbits run? Back to holes themselves... Answers of importance Over Hammond organs, Hare, over tortoise. Whether or not, She understood my poems. Every time the rabbit runs, It ends between cardinal shoulders.
Gord
2024-10-01 12:19 am
Blue, vampire bat, I feel like that at times, Lies about my fangs, Silver metallic, Azul and cyan, Tired, of sky high tricks. I guess that's why I am, Grown men cry, surely, But then grown men die, Weapons about their side. Head held high, my friend, Surely, we will meet again, No shame in dying to a man. Right? Azul and cyan, In sake of blue, give me white. Am I doomed, to be a beast? Who bites? Well, then why alongside them, Question the carmine reds? All I want is life, beyond that, Perhaps azul and cyan.
Gord
2024-09-26 09:15 pm
Blue, green, In between, To me? It's everything. But they only see through me, Shield to shield, grit teeth, Never can I achieve peace. It never appealed to me, Supposedly. But, little does, Just a few blue themes. So, to routine... For you, more meaning. Cold reading: "horses, leeches". Vernacular dances, In between: Lavender, Lapis, Cerulean. Javelins, catchers, In between: Distance, anger, Foolishness. But, that's not how they saw me. Target practice, fresh meat, Free of lines like double basses, Yet to see it's own selfish strings. Yet, upon a blue sky, I fly and sing.
Gord
2024-09-20 09:01 pm
Have dreams, That's how you achieve them, Not bat ears and canned heat. Billy Bragg says 'freedom is' , But whiskey is softer on ears, Randy Blythe pushes people, Carried off as he prescribes. Chlorine, yonder, sapphire dyes, In your heart you can see their eyes, You never fully extinguish a life. Murderer, she says, most immodest, Mostly chlorine water in response, Yonder, the noble's calling, It turned her to stone on the inside. To me, like sapphire and diamonds. To her, being pushed from a stage, Down past concrete, into a grave. Into the maze, blue, into the grey. Now you are mine forever.
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
2024-08-14 07:15 pm
Like Sepia, Despite what I see, Also some yellow. Color the frame retro, Like scene girls, afterward, I think, where do I go? Despite what I feel, Altos bellow. Also her form, Lace, and leaves, Never ending war. Storybooks, Where are you for? Made bedrooms? Despite what I see, Euphoria. Despite the blue and orange, I see yellow. Like the whole world is sepia, And made in her form. Despite what I feel, About capitalization, ownership, I see shadows at home, Because I see by myself, alone, Despite what I feel.
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
2024-08-04 09:27 pm
Like the sun heats sand, Marrow, lemon, butter. Yellow begets yellow. You can get by, off nomenclatures, You can get off of your oral favours, High horse and compare your god. Yellow teeth, shallow gums, fallow claws, Yellow is the sun that follows you home, Yellow is Chicago, Toronto and New York. Kill fellow flowers to see if he loves you, A selfish color that swallows you whole. Reach the threshold for silence, clap. It takes not much for violence to start. Although, you know that. So, like the sun meets the sand, Grassland or temperant meadow. Yellow begets yellow, Green, brown and red. You can get by, off those things you said, Oral favours or fine works of art you posess. I see the yellow for what it is.
Gord
2024-08-01 05:50 am
Gold of copper, silver, others, Authors of doctrine, products. Sallow, is the frown from God, Where is all the yellow, gone? Random, is capitalist outcome, Like a drain or fountain floods, Fate, embracing to the bottom, Latin script, says "Your Honor". Jasmine flowers nod, goodbye, Abandon your cause, destroy. From a barren mountaintop, The wind, calm, mother... God demands your boy.
Gord
2024-07-21 08:49 pm
Yellow, and a bit of blue, Both, I, and you. Purple, Lilac, I just care not for it. Just like you never cared for me, Or any of the things that I thought. Fetch mother, friends, for comfort. Tell your co workers, or consort. I, no longer for dramatic concert, Agriculture of the hallway, march, July, august or months of autumn, Yellow, burst into skies of orange. See If I toss and turn about it. Like, he drives a porche, owns gold, Fire and opal in his coat pockets. Like, the eyes of horses see god, They see not much beyond carrots, Understand little of soap, clothes. Like, maybe you cared for poems, Little for poets, less even for prose.
Gord
2024-07-16 01:39 am
Gold ochres, yellow turns to orange, But the yellow never changes in you, Does it? Thorn forest, there grows roses. Though tulips, begonia warn you, The world is full of your kin, Thoroughbred horses, Who rub their backs in shit. You are a squid that inks, then drinks it. I never was no poet, caged like a rabbit, Trapped, nor boxed with lines, unknowing. You are a skunk, stinks, and eat begonias. So, though two lips beg on, like au jus, You toot, toot toot, greasy after the booze. I've seen a world full of your kin: Fools... Whose blue oceans brown in pollution, Tulips by piss puddles, without allusion. You are a fun person, is my conclusion, Maybe red can change to an orange, Blue, though, can never be less blue, You can never really be a better person, Just accept yourself, I love you.
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
2023-11-16 04:57 am
What was I to be? A hive of bees? I see. Time; clouds. Sky; crowns. Cries, foul: "I'm tied down." She said as I vied for relief. Time, dreams, Lies, deceit, "I'm drowning". Pleas, Screams of an ice house, Before it lies in the deep. Now... What am I to be? Composer of songs, Giver of feelings? What is high to a beast? Fire, disease. What is mine. Like piles at the keep, Rivals final meetings, Some spend life on things. I, much like a beast, Divide things in half, Decide, with a hand, rights to be. So, What was I to be? Probably nothing. Feeding my cows, starving, Alike to the sea. Some sing in the choir, Some sit in the seats. Some write, despite reason, Until, like an ice house, They find reasons to leave.
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.
Lynn
2023-05-12 09:32 pm
Sitting outside the shop on a cloudy May afternoon, my hand scrawls on the back of a receipt a list of the aspects of myself: - the moles in morse code down the side of my face ($4.99) - the scars on my leg in bumpy braille ($12.76) - the skin covering my knuckles, shining where it has split so many times over ($29.97, sale price) - the soul filled with self-loathing, boiling, bubbling over the rim ($10.19) - my spine, doubled over and bent backward ($17.22, CLEARANCE) - the effort I put into eject all but the smallest parts of myself as a collection of trinkets, an amalgamation of dust bunnies ($0.99) I must have picked these up, absentmindedly, through my time in the shop. Where can I put these back? I didn't want them. Why did I pay for them, pulling out my wallet in a daze? I never knew they existed. I must have entered a girl and left a much older woman. How long was I standing underneath the humming lights? I crumple up the scratch paper and toss it in the bin as the sun waves from the overcast.
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