Gord
2019-09-18 08:22 am
Leased bells, music borrowed, Please, tell me of tomorrow, Of swallows leaving belfries, How else can my ears will, Until I hear their sorrow? Peter, son my lover callous, Draperies and linen, down, Failure? This linebacker asks, Just throw my ball, pass, Runs forever to never catch, How will I know his sorrow? Unless he is, as a tinder match, Tender lover of impossible tasks, Inflamed tether, ball impassible, Gasoline for the man who hits.
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The Sophist
2019-08-07 06:21 am
Act white; Pack light, Passing every alley in a mad hike. Can you wear your Nikes out, When theft is at a mad high? Can you wear your Gucci belt? 'Cuz theft is at a mad high; Thirsty people getting water like they're Mogwai, Then they're eating after midnight. Man, I can't even see straight. I feel mad high under the streetlights. *Rustle Rustle* as a squirrel runs past. I'm in flight. What the fuck was that?
Gord
2019-07-19 11:45 am
To twitch and die, Filthy in my tiles, Robots see not I, For they have no eyes, No souls, nor desires. I could watch Shrek in the park, While people watch me, watching, Laughing at the audience. Kicking posts in the dark, Hoping to be on the bus, One they are kicked off, Pissed off, and drunk. I could flaunt, bereft of thought, While nobody watched, Like Portnoy says of the drums, A theater does not make it art, Simple beats touch their heart.
Dawn Toney
2019-05-15 08:55 am
Look at the trees, All sweet with honey bees, Kids falling skinning there knees, Moms are running with all there might, Screaming I told you ,don't leave My sight, Now were do we fly our kite, Then they start to fight, Bees are buzzing, Oh so load, under over the huge Big crowd.
Gord
2018-10-21 08:56 am
Why write technical poetry? Skylight he remarks, opens, Beams of light Caepoeria, Room a knight of California, Adjoined, special upholstery, Coins, for centuries. My king coiled, Toiling thy rings, By fools finding hands, Bringing foil to my picnics. Thinking spoilt, Singing doyle, Drunk stringing his violin, To play brittle. How would I do, Aemula? Is my world to soon, exposed, Or steeped for your future? A mule for god, How would I too, butcher, Myself, user and administrator? I'm you for Claude, Europe, Sugar, or urban woodland. Frogs bulwark their homeless, I'm too for piles of durance, Furthermore for living fulcrum, Furthermore, for here it comes. Words technical, sure, but speaking of, Can I not just turn and bite my thumb?
Gord
2018-10-10 01:06 pm
Soon, my rooftops ventures velour, While his felt cap. So my life could be but parkour, Hostile to this running man, Denying his own strategy. Assume my caricature ugly, Underlying themes, nothingness, Prion disease and brain eating. I scream, away, shoo Like strained water, drained, Boon by foolish penmanship true. Dry humor, dishes in an apartment, States his wishes, his way were apt, One could have but half, contrite, In manacles, retarded and live happy. Perhaps education provides a tragedy, In return, for pardon of inadequacy. So, I too tiptoe guarded garrisons, My bliss beheld past, Soon their life could be of boars. Therefore course I lick, Stamps compelled to stick, What am I? A Saliva Lich? On course to death? Rich. I would embrace the quick, Lest this lifetime of fists.
Gord
2018-09-19 06:50 am
As poet, aspire, assume desire, I wrote for poets, declining, Prose for poetry, I grew designer. More spoke, iron, strewn aside, Cycle heroic for biking true, Though as porch, her mire I knew. To sit in snow, still forever, cold, Gladly to mix into a sill window home. Lover's letter, one pens from notes, To end on soles, or in bags of herion, And never spoken, lovely, but phoned in, In drunken speech, early in the morning. As men, we aspire, and assume desires, I wrote for Odin, always refining, Notes for nobody, I grew aside, Man of the world, I knew her ire.
Gord
2018-09-18 07:29 am
She won't relent, Heart of paper, stone read. Western hero, composing feelings, Zeal formulaic, deceit ceaseless. Eastern, kind words repentant, Unlikely to spend life waiting, Ferment, offense, to be condemned. Sweetheart, If one only dances, not for scent, Lance just for chests, Language, port for gents. Madame, another supplement, For what drunken mess is other, Than more time misspent? To see the end, would we prevent? Could we? All I see is a girl, a vent, Policy diverse, absurd, dissent.
Mata
2018-07-15 11:52 am
Go ahead laugh,smirk do or say what you are going to do..i wont and cant stop you..its ok and except that im the fool..you have proved yourself out as the klown..as you thought you were cool,walking around claiming to be down..at the time you knew you bad me fooled,i already had the clue;you never or knew how to be true..but its all good cuz who am i to judge?iam able to at least except tbat i chose to be the fool..and to sit back in the crowd n enjoy the show;rather than wanting to be the ringleader and run the show..while you were in the streets claiming to be down and believing to be on the grind;im the"REAL WORLD" of reality you were doin what a ring leader does...marching around advertizing"the circus is in town"..but its ok in your own unrealistic world to believe in what you see and who you claim to be..so im willing to settle with compromise instead of regret..at least have a lil respect to turn our backs to each other and walk away and live in our own realistic world.. MATILDA MADRID
Gord
2018-04-27 09:29 am
Feelings made up, makeshift, Ideals for tomorrow racist, She remarks foundation. He responds formation, Endlessly talks mountains, Flying fowl, howling oasis. The boy comes around, Left alone unanswered, Too late for pounding. Too late surmounting, Midnight is the hour, With a toy box full of clowns, Breath like oneself drowning, Her words are like fire, Counting her countenance, Even if she implied flowering, He runs away cowardly, trampling.
Gord
2018-04-04 04:02 pm
Style lapland, cola, A black knight broken, All they dig is holes, No pause. I'm tsarnov of the rhyme, I'm Midas of the pot, With time running out, And Race not lost.
Tina Marie
2018-02-20 03:12 pm
As I looked into my mirror one day, I could see, that a sad little girl was looking at me. I said to this child where is your smile? Through tears she replied, "Can we talk for a while? Your mommy is dead. They took your daddy away. I don't know how you face your mirror everyday?" Besides the lump in my throat, I also felt, a tear trickled down as my heart begin to melt. Sweet Child you see, it is hard to explain, how people can hurt you and cause you such pain. but if you believe that God sent us Jesus his son, you can face everyday and you won't have to run. So smile little girl there is a whole new world of love and happiness and a brand new start, the moment you ask Jesus to come into your heart. Looking deeper yet, into my mirror I could see, that this sad little girl looked exactly like me.
Gord
2017-12-20 09:55 am
I write without relent, Lawn ashen, body bent, Fawn bashful, words pawn. I write without intent, Politic truth, not respect. Words choleric, forested, Another blonde moribund; Floral, me'er ornament, Porcelain and floor clung; Flies flying and food dung, No chloroseptic rush. Sitting alone, he claims, Throne vacant, citrus grown, Plain clothes, no Satan. He makes popular statements, Pandering blatant, but fun, Worldview of a drunk taken. Full of heart, Dull as garbage, trumped, Meandering serious, Meaning wallet plump, Friends gone, blunt, Ledge found, jump.
Mary Steffen
2017-10-20 12:48 am
Stallion on run Out have fun Golden meadow sun
Gord
2017-10-18 11:50 am
I have concepts for days, Metaphors for four hours, And wordplays for wakes. I'm not bragging, I'm just impaired, Flawed above the mane. Miscarrying paper knowledge, Cutting loves careless arms. She finds herself wanting, Hair flowing, river forming, Learning is her sophism, So she lies until tomorrow, Feigning disinterest ursury, Tales of cursory, courtesy. A verse aloft in the clouds, Sounds out to an empty crowd, Life of deception floundered. World as in twitching flour, Face equal, equivalent arms, She curtsies and bows, turns; Runs away, her face as ours.
Gord
2017-09-20 04:07 pm
So sits a homely giant, Face sagged into manic, Stone eyelids and mask, Seeing the world as past, He undoes his passing; Leaving literal caves, Only breaching a cage, Mitigating his laugh, He upstages his own fate, Teaching pupils who stay afraid, Egg on his dress, Stag of the forest, Unwashed, unclean. Walls silver and platinum, A giant horse still gaits, Walks circles then defecates, Sleeping soundly until dawn; Enemies however struck down, Their laughter an afterthought, Justly he can run far, fast, Never figuring in absence, Filling him with maxims silly, Father pays the bills, He lives simply. Simply living a masquerade, To hide a face so pimply.
Gord
2017-08-21 09:20 am
Words leave lips, A wall of sound, Then music hits, His voice lost, Words meaningless, Actions listless; His love awful, His verse aught too. The kids quickly learn to run home, Anyone who find ideals embarrassment, Ironically find the end of needles; Peering into the future, fetal, Their vision worthless unknown;
Gord
2017-08-10 12:17 pm
Me? I once found love, It made no difference, They all forget to sub, And I made no income. A marriage valueless, The class clown flubs; Bell rings and we run, Fighters embracing, They man up, Fast t'was. Master of the gun facing Castles of his virtue, Backs still to the sun; Sacks filled with their cum, Save slaves of ignorance, To every man is worthless. Except when smoke burlesque, And living on canned shrubs. Maybe it should be, unless, You buy conqueror's seed, Then smoke it bluntly, with cannabis, sunglasses on;
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