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.
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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.
Gord
2022-12-21 04:00 pm
Knowing few truths, too youthful, choose, No use for rules, too poor for morals. Two views, both fools, accuse, Loose tongues ruin their world. Must they struggle and fight all their lives? Into groups, they divided themselves, Absolute truths and nonsense, Both destroyed by their own kind. Is it nothing to you, all you who pass by? Is any suffering like their suffering? They copulate and make offspring, Die, their children die, their children die, While they're still alive they mate, Great minds think alike, again, And again generations later they fight
AI poetry
2022-12-07 04:31 am
The wind whispers to my skin, It's like it speaks with every breath. As if it has been calling out for my presence, Waiting to see the face behind this mask. So far it has shown nothing but disdain, And I wonder if I have anything left to give. In darkness I wander, With nothing but my memories Falling, falling, falling. Where once I saw light now lies only gloom, And I know that it has gone. For those who wish for rest, I have none Though I'd give up what I have, for one more. But it's too much now, I can't move my hands, I just want to sleep... (My memory, it fades) In the dark, with nothing to grasp, The memories that I hold so dear Fall away from me like they were never there. And I feel as though I will fall into madness, Like the very world is crumbling beneath my feet, That everything is crashing down, I fear I cannot stand the weight. (I'm fading) I just want to sleep... (My memory, it fades) *** I'm afraid I've gone and made a fool out of myself again, I knew you wouldn't understand my reason, And now you're not talking to me at all, You see I didn't mean to let your memory fade, It's like I was being pulled away by another force, Something I didn't mean, something I can't control, I don't even know why I'm still here... I don't know why I'm still here. I should leave this place, I know it's wrong, I shouldn't be here in your mind, I can't help the way that I am, I don't know why I'm Super Mundane, I can't stop feeling so low, I'm afraid it's already too late. I didn't mean to let you slip away, But the thought of losing you just doesn't sit right, To keep you awake and alive, I need you here, I'm not alone, Without you here with me I can't go on, I don't know why I'm Super Mundane, I don't know why I'm still here. I didn't mean to let you slip away, I just can't shake this feeling, That something inside of me is broken, I don't know why I'm Super Mundane, I don't know why I'm still here. This poem is an Articial Intelligence re-interpretation of "Super Mundane" by TheSoftSophist
AI poetry
2022-12-07 04:15 am
Towards evening, the island's in silhouette, Dark trees line the beach and the cliffs at water level. Ripples of light ripples shimmer on the sea. Distant whales make a low moan or grunt. Anchor chain groans and creaks from the boat. They sit in silence, then share a long kiss. Beside them the ship rocks gently on the waves. The captain draws a sigh as he drinks his ale. Then down into the darkness, the depths, To where the sharks prowl, where the dolphins swim, Where the whales sing their songs. And the hunters will go to find them. *** Whale hunt, that's what it was about, The whale, the whale. The hunt, the hunt. What did you want? Just something to do. This poem is an Articial Intelligence re-interpretation of "A Handfull of Pennies" by Gordon Haggerty
Lynn
2022-08-17 02:15 am
here i lie (not yet asleep) in my childhood bedroom (my soul to keep) under my childhood quilt (made by my grandmother) holding my childhood cat (could there by any other?) and listening to the cicadas cry over (mourn) the loss of my sister (come morn) when she moves away (just to our college town) into her tiny, adulthood dorm (someday to wear a cap and gown) with her adulthood newfound friends(i thought it was just the four of us) and her adulthood future portends (why couldn't it have always been the four of us?) and listening to her professors drone on (just like the cicada) as she compiles reports, and essays, in jargon (raw data) and- and- and i wonder, will she miss me too?
Gord
2022-08-03 10:55 pm
Flag, Grab a torch, same hand, Have fun with your vote: Another hand a sword, It opens a can of corn. Fake hammer throw, Judges, like rabbits, Run back to their holes. Rather than face the day, The code and its ghosts. Instead, They make jokes, they make shows, They make notes, that, of course, Exclude their track record of control. That dirt road, saddled by war, Addled by the hammers thrown, Fools who took no land unknown, Who speak a language encoded, Take advantage of the locals. What is wealth, cash of course? But it's also a canvass of bone, Grass in the mouth of a mud horse.
Gord
2022-07-24 03:44 am
Whiskey, tequila, rum, Pizza, popcorn, cheeses, brown sugar, butter. Lemon, three cuts, Twist, bend it upward, Lemoncello, whiskey, Seltzer, on the rocks.
Gord
2022-07-19 10:35 pm
Meaningless draught, meandering feeling, Bar talk, believe not the sweet whispering, Thinking things talked in the deep darkness, They aught, talk turns to action, They are what they are. Sinking stone, mephitic toad of the ocean floor, What does the heart wish for? Winning wars? Logistic growth? Cathartic revolt? Ownership? Satan, do you hear your kindred souls? Card or cash, is all they know. They see fawns freeze in the snow, and move on, it's things seen from a car. It's part of a laundry list of misgivings, They want what they want, They are what they are.
Gord
2022-07-13 01:56 pm
Potato and dill, Mayo and chill. Down the hill, of starch, Smoked paprika, Pepper and salt.
Gord
2022-07-06 06:40 am
Estoppel, Mothers teach their daughters: Fear god like a cannon, It's about what comes after, Thanks can turn like a cavern. Characters in novels, Monuments in their honor, Buildings to hurl themselves off of, In life, it appears less often, Withering is more common. Peer down the fandom: Book like a standard, Fans buy a good lie. Banks burn like a tavern, Like a blanket in shambles By the fire that looks fine. Estoppel: The dragon sighs, Wishes a sweet prince, good night, Gone is he with the fire.
Gord
2022-06-16 03:37 pm
Calamity, their hearts dictate, Failures, insanity, Hecate. A spell long for them: Dreams, but at a gamblers pace, Meaning, but then actors change, TV panel games as passion fades, Children, teen, then move away. Tickets to the gamelan races, They own the stadium. What do they say, of man, Their fates? They rarely change. One could sew sequins into thy face, Meanwhile speak of other races, All they would see is a cage, Call their fathers, seethe in rage. Stallions of grazing, High yields, truncation, Stars in amazement, What feels like salvation? A path of slave labour, Tired people, consumption, That's how I feel. Everyone has their favorite battlefield, Next to their cross with their name. The spell longest for anyone, Man and his grave.
Lynn
2022-06-10 05:31 pm
espresso bean in the espresso machine located here in the mezzanine we serve your drinks with sweetness and cream a fountain of everlasting caffeine. espresso bean in the espresso machine and not just coffee, we also serve cuisine! the chocolate brownie is a hit with the teens huddled together near the register screen. espresso bean in the espresso machine here the noise is quite serene amidst those coming and going, a calm in-between come on over! help set the scene! espresso bean in the espresso machine week after month, to form a routine yet the tasks of today remain unseen ‘tis the life of those on the library team.
Gord
2022-05-25 10:45 am
Amounts, they screamed, amounts, Seemingly all they knows about. Amounts, a mouth, beatings. Even just, if by the brow, Cow steps on the mouse, Like a man steps on a mount. Echoes, couch downstairs, This is my house, GET OUT! Narrowing in the mind, cowers Like an arrows path forward, Like time, straight, downward. Dance, doubt, awkward bow, Applause amounts, doubt, Can a mouse hear the sound? Leers, liquors, in various amounts. In the end, a mouse needs cheese. A cow needs many more things, Succumbs to meandering about the fence, Outside of this, they find no peaceful crowd. People of the ground, fearing clouds, fearing now, Cowards that fear when you speak and shout, Cows teaching which they know nothing about, Why should a mouse throw spears at the clouds? Zeus and Venus, Why would they fear if I step on a mound, kneel, Bow or two step around it? Are they cowards like me?
Lynn
2022-03-23 11:45 am
I smear vaseline in the corners of my mouth with a cotton swab to seal the cracks that are carved there from smiling too wide from laughing too loud from speaking my mind. I smudge the nails on my hands with paint, pearlescent and pink to keep from moving to keep from creating to keep from fully living. I confine myself to an apple and egg whites each day to mold by body into what I see in waiting room magazines into what it was when I was a child into something impossible. how futile, it seems, to meter my joy, to suppress the wind. because, when one tries to obstruct what rightfully will pass, it gains strength, channels down one slim canyon, and blows everyone away.
Gord
2021-12-21 04:53 am
In the car, cutting corners, Misnomer, or misfortune; Of emotion, a disclosure All I feel is the moment, Brushing motion and smell of burning horses. Of importance: Kings and clowns, With benefit of doubt, One is better without.
Gord
2021-12-15 11:23 am
What am I to be? A hive of bees, I see. Time, clouds, Sky, crowns, Right now tied down, Time, dreams, Lies, deceit, An ice house drowns, What am I to be? Composer of songs, A giver of feelings?
Gord
2021-12-14 04:44 am
One last deal, a man's feet, Glass sharp as steel, Half free, half demand, Protect land from the sea. Footing, Looking up, Good enough, discuss, Bullshit words, wooden result. All I can see is the head: Bad feeling in the bed, If only I could fold my hands, Lean, sleep and dream. The chaos I would see.
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