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

2015-09-10 12:00 am

Day 1:
No stoic women and no false metal,
Living the life,
Inside of a kettle.
Hopping and jumping,
Trying to escape.
Grinding my teeth,
While the symphony plays.
"Does it feel great?"
"Yeah, it really feels great."
"Now what should I do?"
"I'll cry the next day."
Weeping,
Watching the moon start to settle.
Disappear too soon below false nettle.
"With such regret I will miss when I die,
So I dream to escape the world I deny."

Day 2:
I sleep;
The moon and my mind both settle.
I no longer jump;
Steam fills my kettle.
These stoic women;
Fawns for false metal.
Living my own life;
Fit in fine fettle.

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.

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

2015-02-04 12:00 am

Voice 6:
No man plays sport with a god,
Sans future sporting warts of frog.
So can it be, in the course of wrong,
Lies retort the support of a cause?
Change lies about, but why bother?
Energy costs in dollars,
So am I to be in this world?
Where there is no king under god,
Nor a czar for the godless,
Only flattened, artificial sod,
Tragedy and rape for the goddess,
Upon which we clap in full form.
How am I to remorse, or reverse decision?
Upon a world which would deny procession.
In my opinion the wheels still turn.

Minor character: I see.

Minor character leaves.

Gord

2015-01-30 12:00 am

Voice 2:
If I tax not the husband,
I laugh not upon the sun.
I task not the daughter.
I ask not of nonsense, but honor.
To ask men of skill-set stoic,
Who is the one to dance prophetic?
They say skill-wise I circle cone,
Shall I play so remarkably alone?
When shall I finally wax poetic?

Voice 3:
Do not fret in worry,
I fight a fool, truly.
If we fight horseback steel,
His men will have no drink,
All ship that be shall sink,
If they think upon the sea,
I foresee not a shot upon me.
I foresee not a shot upon my men.
However,
I foresee dead men of opposing color.
A sea of red for a coward humble.
Two dawns we march upon him,
Squalid condition disregarded.
An offer of an ultimatum:
Convoluted death or instant slaughter.

Gord

2015-01-16 12:00 am

Seeking refreshment,
Dire wolves present,
Ready to gnaw.
Gnu society is buried along.
String pulled taught,
Ropes around throats,
Strings play onward,
Despite what they're taught.
An uproar of laughter occurs,
Society of horse-eaters,
glue-makers, wearing fresh wigs.
Pigs remaining adorned in powder,
Guns pointed, son anointed, 
Appointed afterward as God,
Society of brow-beaters,
As if word meant nothing either,
Society of Shakespearean clods.

The Paraffin One

2014-10-31 12:00 am

Among data statisticians some are apt.
Strikepads merely look for matches.
Pyromancers fire from hands,
Magic tricks demand ignorance,
Turns education into pittance.
Hydromancy of the dire lands,
Outright drought of pious demands.
Stale games played, Crows become Kae,
Men become gods when displayed in 4k.

Gord

2014-10-28 12:00 am

A million stars align to begin nothing,
Can truly the best begin insulting?
A test of love becomes benign offspring.
A gentle hand caresses a face softly,
Yet with the other casts aside a spade.
Cannot the hands of god be unloving?
Those wish for pain receive cavalcade,
Thinking prayer for cake, not for absolving.
Best rhymes touted as insults,
Trying to be what they aren't: wise.
True rhymes timeless be, no beauty sulks.
No man plays games to receive a prize.

Cannot you write of greater things?
Or still is life consumed with frings?

The Paraffin One

2014-09-18 12:00 am

A bridge too far is a bridge too far.
Simply put it goes beyond.
Unnecessarily a player struggles,
To play an off-key yawn,
Play chords, save the trouble.
Nobody listens anyway inside of a bar.
Bridges that lead to beyond,
Then abruptly end in the sea.
Why turn from sea so calm?
You could jump to freedom.

The Paraffin One

2014-09-15 12:00 am

No wave easily embraces a shore,
Yet broken it finds solace soars.
Beyond is sea, pale godless,
No effect easily saves scores.
Yet a violin plays of the whore,
Upon the pier, praying for goddesses.
A boat launches without birth mother,
Father never sees need for guidances,
Tragedy is compassions' like brother,
Yet time must pass or we tarnish each other.

My tragedy at sea was like no other:
I believed in no Poseidon of fate.
So I found no place safe to wallow,
Waves endlessly chased my starboard,
Port too was nothing but ocean onward,
So I trumpet ironic prayers for rain,
Anything to wash away my shameful act.

The Sophist

2014-08-27 12:00 am

To accompany a symphony of strings;
Vibrant sounds for vibing kings;
I play the timpani and you sing.
This sitch just ain't our thing,
We just don't have what they want us to bring.

The Sophist

2014-08-25 12:00 am

New day intrinsically.
Prone intrinsic sleep,
A world so strange,
It mocks the sane,
Or so it seems to be,
As two arrange for three,
Plan the day,
Hours wane,
So one can live in peace,
Intrinsic wake so suddenly,
Search for cables in a rage,
Time is locked away.
Twenty minutes after three,
Moon falls soon from the trees,
Longing for to stay,
Now not time for play,
I clean myself and peace,
Work for eight or so at least,
Bike home,
Bus if there is rain,
Smoke a bowl then meditate,
One by one prepare the feast.
Deranged I aim to vaguely please,
People bitching in my face,
Keeping up a steady pace,
Intrinsically return to sleep,
New days for eternity.

The Sophist

2014-08-05 12:00 am

My Nicomachean ethics dictate every day,
Every day I sleep until I'm late,
I place blame on my friends and family,
Regarding problems I create,
Leading all our lives astray,
I pay friends to rape my fiance,
Go to church, kneel down, and pray.
I waste my life away,
Raise my kids like JonBenet,
Rotten melons in Easter hay,
So well my part I play,
Shadows fades, the suns awake.
Used socks left a-hang,
Stinking up the atrium of the Global Chalet.

The Sophist

2014-07-21 12:00 am

See depths of apathy,
In lengths of hair,
Like half of me there,
Other half in'other room,
Gaping blankly it stares there too,
Too, too, thoughts like lasers shooting off
 in my mind,
See depths of beauty filling my eyes' seas,
'splayed 'round the front of my being,
All this beauty is mine,
Even you are in the bounty,
You are the wind, the sail, the boat beneath
 my feet.
You move me.
You are a seed that grew toward this
 ever-falling tree.
Freedom gnaws at nature,
A crutching being what's need.

The Sophist

2014-06-24 12:00 am

They told me to love not,
Or so the way it seems,
Now everyone loves but me,
Critics embraced, 
Mystics fought,
Sweet love to never be,
A conversation over tea,
Medusian eyes stoned, 
My forearms to my knees,
Huddled, statued, 'splayed in local park,
Monument to those cold and alone,
Monument of a man without a heart.

Kodyboi

2014-04-23 12:00 am

I remember when we broke up the first time.
I remember trying to do nothing.
Saying "this is it", like a Jackson hit.
I remember not seeing you for about a month.
I remember waking up,
I remember remembering a punch in the mouth,
Reminding me to chart future relationships out.

I'm calling it off.
The wedding and the dates you liar.
I'm telling you off this time.

We'll never, ever ever get back together.
Go talk to your friends. Talk to mine.
Waste your time,
Spend your time playing pretend.
End up like Islam on the Balkan Island.

I'm really going to miss writing.
Miss writing is miswriting,
Misleading my idols into the trivial.
Hiding the infinite potential on vinyl.
Throw on the CD, it's more indie than mine.
More John Frusiante than girls from Niandra.
So for another month I'l find peace of mind.

So you called me up,
To talk about like love, but no luck.
Because I was like, and he was like.
and they were like.
Even his parents didn't like him.
So he was like, ugh, boring.
and I'm always touring, so like, fuck him.

We're never, ever, ever, getting back together.
Your friends balk, and my friends bawk.
So the whole thing is pretty complimentary.

The Sophist

2014-04-10 12:00 am

It's not easy being green.
It's not easy helping people make their own disease.
My name is Unimportant; 
I carry scopolamine flowers,
And I pay nothing for it.
My name?
I'm Confused;
I carry scopolamine flowers giving greetings profound.
Playing God of the hour,
Fleeting bodies abound.
Falter and fumble and fall to the ground;
Witnessing light of a paradise found.
Leading the blind,
With my feeble eyes,
Misplaced moral outrage,
Attempts to rewind.
To see druidic days,
Where there's bodies unfounded.
Peat bogs set ablaze,
Simple murders unsounded,
Lacking cause,
Mental haze killing thousands,
Our future disgraced,
Pelves smashed and heads pounded.