Gord
2024-09-25 09:27 pm
Blue, pale sky. What did I miss? The sale price? The halfway line? Brick by bloody brick, They desalt mines. Did you just move away, Get killed, then live again, Just to shiver in place, Wither and die? Were you better off hunting diamonds? Forgive my writing, And erotic sins, For which upon this wit I build. Always right, Above, they fly, Always white, Always wine. Blue cranes from blueprints, Selfish, and high.
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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
2024-08-04 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
2024-07-16 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
2024-06-28 06:38 pm
In Her Dreams Everyday she grew more cynical, Forewarned in the way he spoke. 'What makes trees grow? Speaking indignantly? Lazy, form english is what bees know. Maybe there is more, maybe not. Leaves, and lace upon her form, Leers and mistakes on a forum, Leaves and paces about a home. Lady Clare, is this what you wish for? Mais oui, upon meeting, she says, but may we not once she sees him again. She begs, making peace, but, maybe not. What is under the stars, outside of the bar, Yet above us all? In her mind, her. But, actually, God. And he sees her like I see her: Alone by herself, just of her mom. Lo, girl, grate your feet, arms to nothing, Cognizant, you can see what's coming. So, use a word to cut deeper, I mean, Maybe there is more, maybe not... Say please, and release the lions... If a cognate speaks of alm, as always, Bet a fool falls, autumn again, as always, Winter follows. Bees, on their belly, in a playful sense. Wallows about woods and streams. Striped appearance, demeanor, feelings, He exits the scene with grace and dignity. Asking the same, but bees scream, race, As always, it's just the way things be. Swallow a mouth full of eggs, and honey, Forward, fundamentally things are different. Not just you and me, for everyone that sees us. The courts just take up space, mostly useless, And friends never show up to court you, bee, They treat you differently. You are less than me, because you are less than nothing, She says, and places her hands to the sun. Youth burning away at her bloodied stumps, Speaking in fear of a beast that runs, jumps, Eating the bunnies she dreams about...
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
2023-08-13 08:22 pm
'I just wish, with all the time I have left', As she squeezes her fists, laments, Her eyes see ideas she never said, Sadness bookends her existence. She knows what she is, and lies, She thinks she knows what's best, But she is losing her desire for life. I just wish, like all the cows she loves, She would fight and fawn over me for once. The person she sees staring into the sky, It seems she likes, but she rarely sees herself. Mostly other men, me, and occasionally, marquee lights. She thinks it's for the best, I'm sure. The person she reveals herself to be, As the ocean fares, she holds against, My love can only take so many hits, She says, as she sets the table, For two people, but never herself. She says in the end, it's for the best. What happened to the things she liked? She thinks to herself in a flight, Reminded of a dream, desires, Meets someone else and tries. Time is a god of fire, however, So it takes and destroys her, Inside first, then outside. What she does with her life, It's none of my concern, Fans in the crowd fight amongst themselves, Not with players they revere and beheld. I think I know what's best, but in the end, I knew very little of what I said, Even less of the outcomes she had. So, who am I, to wish?
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.
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.
Gord
2023-04-12 05:23 am
Birth mother, Are you done in search of justice? From hunger the feeling lingers on, I want to be created equal, in three parts: My heart, my dreams, my thoughts. To stomach decisions these fingers long: How much must one muster? The war is over, the performance over, The opponent is dead and gone. He hears the fear in his voice, Drinks beer, balks, talk circles, Inside he looks awkwardly, Leers like a child at adults. 'Blood eater, what of your cuts? Is your search for freedom done? What is your word for love? Of people, of reason, Like earth, sun, One deserves better treatment, But worries when wonders gone.' Colonel, a third of your country, wrong. Fanciful fawns, thoughts prancing, Warnings: Songs bandied to a swan. Wanting nothing, wanton, famished, Like night always says to the dawn: Our prospects have long vanished. It's more self talk, silence in response, Dancing alone, along to the bombs that drop.
Gord
2023-02-10 10:48 am
Shapeshifter, sex symbol, Lord, Like you imagine your next form, Aging wrinkles, Alone, Civil from war. Great mirror, What's a beach without a shore? Those who change an elaborate hoax. They imagine thinking, then approach, Like ideas read from novels and books. Plane ticket, images, visions, more, Imagining yourself at home, Opium, an anonymous quote, You take the drugs you owe for, In your veins, up the nose. Fictional, your world becomes, Because fiction is all you know. Shapeshifter, pegs in your holes, You imagine delightful chorus, Even though you are alone. Violent, calloused and lonesome. Without war to be calloused from. Great Mirror, Piper, Peter, Could you play me a tune Or at least leave me alone? I favour the fear I know fighting. Not the thunder and lightning, You bring when you're home.
Gord
2022-12-22 03:17 am
Trying to break free, like a caterpillar. The feeling is of great joy and relief, Like a child being born, finally feels. Acronyms describe the experience, He became, "I", in the moment, Realized, in his essence, Idyllic, His dreaming was all he was. Heart curls into a ball, Wraps himself in yarn, Forgets the thoughts that haunt him, It doesnt solve wants or give cause, But he explodes in vivid color, Looking like an inexpensive car, He flies fast to escape the closing walls.
Gord
2022-12-09 03:01 am
In his future he sees tired coughing, The seer mundane usually finds nothing, Only peering back upon seared meat, Apparently to be, or feel something. In his mind, he wishes to be someone, See his sums upped, feel unusual. He is detached, however, like Buddha, But he has an even broader usage. Once again he peers into the ether, He sees himself equal and decent, Sears at the breathing creature, Fears his lack of freedom. "Coward", he screams, "Coward", he casts his disease. Pulls from inside himself, meaning. He sees his reflection again in the mirror, Breathing heavily into the air, at first, But eventually he cried with realization.
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
Gord
2022-11-24 12:02 am
She cried too late, she surmises, Where the water hits the sky she relates, Relating further as the distance gains, Relationships were never her game. Decisions in haste are still decisions made, Whether the bars bend makes no difference, You still lived in a cage. She is indivisible from a man, She decides in a rage, This divides her, divided in half, her life changes. Her children are the product of mistakes. She cried too late, she surmises. Famine, she decides. Pestilence, plague, flames, Venom from the viper's fang, Which she places upon the lambs that wail. Take me away, she whispers to nobody there. Take me away, she formally dresses, playing, Addressing her former self, she was taken away, Far from the pain that she feels everyday
Gord
2022-08-22 06:51 am
I can't fly, I buy a plane, afraid, Is it I, or the world that changed? Doing, but why? Moon in the sky, The music has died away: Civilized, civil eyes describe, My cymbals, rides and chains. Time changes, I stay behind, afraid, I can't fly, I can't buy a plane, Or move to a space in my mind, Tiny place, stimuli, to hide my pain. Like shrines to a saint, myself, I can overprice, play faces like chess, Trite, then replace with tech. In my camp by the lake, Water arrests the trees. Wolf, that tames itself, Realizes little of anyone else, Sees no bigger dreams, Eats the best, but what for me?
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