Gord
2014-07-03 12:00 am
Cardinals, Priests, Meadows of patients waiting. Gold Dinar, feasts, Falsettos of passion singing. Bringing ashen feet, Bellows and deep reservoirs. Nothing but temptation, Fleeting hearts, mellow minded followers. Cheering on, like stallions they broke us. Ignorant engulfed in a field of locust.
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Gord
2014-07-03 12:00 am
Soul searching, to quench my thirst. Burning coal. Dense smoke. Smouldering. Yearning whence, we control the hearse. Returning self-control and sense, Only to those left shouldering. Soul surviving artist dreampt the worst: All of my love to her, All of her love in return. All for I have yearned. Once dreams do I now incur, Nightmares embraced with au revoir, Left to die without concern. Simply to never again be reborn. Chorus Sings.
The Sophist
2014-06-25 12:00 am
I swing about a bauble, I scream about all belief, And claim it to be fallible, I run to where the light doth scramble, To a place where all the truths are false, And dreams are able, and soar about my bauble, Radiant light of torch-lit dragon stables, I sing in fable, and swing about my bauble, All the dragons burnt alive by gas, Spilled off tables knocked and set alight. The old king has no ace to punish strike, Now that dragons are not able to end life. A workforce overthrows the king unable to know why, A mutiny by accident with baubles as our knives.
Gord
2014-06-16 12:00 am
Those with arsenic bedfellows, exposed. Due to the TV show they gained exposure. Closure to a chapter of chaos and rapture. Posturing to a new hope, classically, In hope that he masters poseur culture²; How dramatically he captures folk, Beards sip wine in¹ balcony of their brother. It's the framework of laughter; Silently I laugh as they excuse them both³, Rendering their will less valid, excusing oath; Adopting a framework of passtimes, Instead of finding, lying among those guilty, Chastising the filthy for soiled torn clothing. Discarding carelessly the heart of an oak, Instead of seeding they favour blind hope; Sans man, would the trees still grow? Forlorn will animals flourish? The hands of man conceive the future, though, Often he lacks the means to nourish. The man will scream of price of grain, though, Often he just lacks the means for omnipotence. Footnotes: 1. latin for 'on the' 2. i.e. hipsters 3. unnecessary explanations given
Gord
2014-05-29 12:00 am
The rates remain, In fact, Let the rape remain, In tact. A Genghis plan, No time for mathematics, The Queen's virginity remains intact. The people's impassivity remains fact. Humanity needs a savior, The mimicry drains that. A finality, For in the end, in synchronicity, Invincibly the choir sings. However dismissively, Lyrically they sing lit matches. For historically we lived like bastards.
The Sophist
2014-05-14 12:00 am
Perchance to live in witness, Stars burst and rearrange, Radiantly crumbling, As charcoal'd skies remain. Bemeeting life with endless bliss, This bears repeat in ways, Beyond the charcoal skies and souls, A single voice remains, A single man to compliment, Beyond the stars there lays, An endless charcoal firmament, Muse of all my days.
Known Chumpsky
2014-05-06 12:00 am
God and I touched lips, and we tongue kissed. Man, if God's a guy I'll be so pissed. You can have him, to shoot orgasms across each others' backs in a dark bathroom. I refuse to take God's cock in my asshole. I'd take God out to dinner so I can meet his sister and fuck her. I heard she's younger and tighter, and when it comes to looks, I heard she's better. I begin to bestir; I'm afraid that God's a mister, and I want to fuck his sister.
The Sophist
2014-05-06 12:00 am
Brown the new black, White the new Arab, A new wave of terror, The whole world is scared of. A new version of false flag, By creating false nations, Causing in artists a self-flagellation, All these rebellions are government run, Occupy is government run, The Arab Springs are government run, Benghazi was government run, Movies are made using government funds, Syrian Opposition on The Simpsons in 2001, A decade later formed in Syria, Why so much talk about guns, Alcohol, war, and marijuana? Using themes to denigrate people, In the very grounds that they run. Leaders were raised on Hare-Abian Nights, Now they kill Arabs for fun.
The Sophist
2014-05-02 12:00 am
If you think, You are probably failing; The system designed, For Confusion. Mass sanity waning, Or so I find, Mass devolution, Mass losing of minds. Give me death or give me liberty, To build dreams out of my reveries, To deny myself to occupy, 'Til all of land is free, 'Til land taxes aweigh, Streets still paved and cleaned. If you think, They are probably hailing, Controlling your mind, With delusions. If you are training, To think 'Occupy', That's mass prostitution, Truly controlling your mind. Give me death or give me liberty, To build dreams out of my reveries, Tell them at a campfire, How good it feels to breath, When I fly above the trees. It's not awake to think, The only way to stay cosane, Dream vast absurdities.
The Sophist
2014-04-14 12:00 am
Falling Night, Earthly harness, Silent still, I am the Darkness; Growing violent, Life betwixt, Sitting hell, Rising Sophist.
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.
Gord
2014-03-18 12:00 am
Her fifth incarnation in filth, The first tragic Buddhavista. The last magic singer. The last female singer to open her mouth and not eat since after Christina, The first entertainer to entertain us since the entertainment era entered the picture. Pictures need to go back to the silent era.
Gord
2014-03-18 12:00 am
Dismayed, they go on to play with more singers, Call girls and you call the band over; Clearly you plan to continue forward; With a drum and bass nobody has ever heard of; Clearly you're like the Doors in the 40's with an in; Misinformed; Just like Jim Morrison; A university student proclaiming to know the way that God would live;
Gord
2014-03-14 12:00 am
A virtuoso steps away from the masons of his craft; He claps and they turn on robotically, After lighting up himself; Lightning cracks, He cracks up himself, Robots personify and become addicts; They releases CD's, He personifies the 80's, or the 90's on every single tracks. 8 EP's later he releases the exact same thing out.
The Sophist
2014-03-10 12:00 am
My God that dumb-wrecked bitch; The meaning of a hoe; She tries perforce for her forget; Her thrice exclaiming "no". Her lips are chapped and rapid; Face smooth and mar'ble; Her mind a vapid wasteland; Of her words unknow'ble. Her bod' a sun-soaked beach; By fear of under toe; She tries perforce for my forget; But hers I can not, no. And thus some minutes pass, And thus some minutes pass thereafter, Pissing in my pants, Dying forth in crippling laughter.
Dusti Rodes
2014-03-05 12:00 am
THEY'RE PLAYIN' WITH THE CLOCKS They are playing with the clocks, Stealing our time. Precious moments, passing us by. What was it they said? Spring forward, Fall back. They're playing with the clocks again. Messing with our minutes. And our minds. The British Summer has gone. It's certainly a mean time, In Greenwich. Still light in the morning, for now. But dark long before dusk. Dusti Rodes (2009)
Dusti Rodes
2014-03-05 12:00 am
In a Japanese Vein Koi Fisherman, Solitary, seated, Beside the endless water. Wherein the single specimen Silently swims. Casting a line that leaves No trace on the still surface. Bonsai In Japan, it is Bonsai, In England, it is August. It will soon be the Fall. In both. Dusti Rodes (2011)
Dusti Rodes
2014-03-05 12:00 am
Memories of Menorca The solitary star The lone gull Lack of light dark and deep Guarded by the lion-dog In two-tone green and black and white Part Chihuahua, part Pekinese. Sunrise over Citudella Purple and pink Blues and browns Age old ruins Built of rocks That are tumbling down. Out of the stillness Came a rustle The wind whispered "Morning" Gull winging, effortlessly Sparrows busying in their daily task Of feeding their families. No different from other mere mortals Who stand and observe Through peephole portals On life below and above. Pylons, all in a line, Taking power to the people. John Lennon would be proud. Illuminated cars, kerb crawling At dawn's half light; Wondering whether to switch off As it is no longer night. To hell with sunrise Watching the clouds come up, Shrouding the stars With their whiteness From the deep dark blue Of Menorcan night. An old boy, reminds me of myself, Lone party goer, maybe? One hell of a walk From Cala Forcat After our session at Night Fever. Sun rises over Citudella And Cala Blanes. Rabbits running, Ants busy, busy; Relaxing perhaps, For a jam sandwich Carelessly cast away. Before the heat forces Them to siesta, On a Menorcan morning At the end of June. A lone songbird, Chortles its wakeup tune; My bag, bathed in Menorcan sunlight Casting shadows of strangest hues The old currant bun Promising a day of brightness. Painted by light, In Nature's brightest colours, The single rock on the lawn Looking like a monolith From eons past. A donkey, braying, Radio, playing People, singing, And speaking in Spanish. Then, Rick Astley, In English. Never going to give you up. Menorcan memories. Dusti Rodes (2002)
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