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Gord
2016-02-02 12:00 am
Sun shining, Days simply spend inside, Producing music, mp3 and wav files, Meanwhile I see my Aunt smiles, Her son shining shoes up in a crack house. I'm pretty sure she's looking for my 26 thou, So i ask her in the heat of the night. 'Tell me, How does the world look so bright, through dirty sheets and a black gown?' She replies down.
Gord
2016-01-18 12:00 am
Ever could I see the sun again, I would follow the sunset forever, Galloping on white horse in vain. Perhaps no trial is worth such fervor, Even if it passes as entertainment.
Gord
2015-11-27 12:00 am
The pale light through red eyes, Seen together as a final sundry. Comely mirrors reflect their lies, An everlasting world forever lacking, Revenge exacted, love never lasting. Metaphorically, a life placed in plaster.
Gord
2015-10-06 12:00 am
College commerce. Forever a future doomed, Earth despondent. Mars despondent. Man despondent. Sun shining onward.
Gord
2015-05-06 12:00 am
Voice To explore the belly of the beast, Is to die for what you believe in. Countervoice: Explore the mouth of a dog, Finding nothing, move on. I implore a decision by partisan. Voice: As if I were to run ashore autistic, Circumventing a sky of no direction, Upon sunken ship of squalid condition. I prepare for no blockade partition, No handkerchief can adopt misdirection, So no thief can hold a cloth of gold. Countervoice: Mention again of the god-dog. Who sits at the feet of us all. Sub servant religious dogma, Poverty being stomping ground, If man is to answer a challenge, Who is to call him down?
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.
Aharon Yosef
2014-10-05 12:00 am
Soul filling everything, You emerge from all, Thus filling my soul. Earth is mine mazily, Will you leave me here, dying? Between the shallows and the sky. Nights gallop passing me, Birds peck out the stars, Thus we fall so far apart. Crystal moon, it waits in peace, Softly as mine eyes take autumn, No crystal flakes that taste the breeze, No barcarolle to be sung solemn, Casting nets emphatically, Thrashed by your oceanic eyes, Thus reprising my demise. I create when I embosom keys, Muster up thoughts I pull from, Throwing mine out to the wind, Zephyrus mine soul in tandem. Soul filling everything, You emerge from all, Thus tearing me apart.
The Sophist
2014-09-04 12:00 am
Both sides support reform, God I feel dumb, Then I go back to watching porn, That still too is dumb, Ah, ugh, I'm wracking my poor brain, Surely nothing can be done, If something clearly is insane. Begone to the pits of apathy, Where men are fighting to succeed, Be free from binds which binding me, Lead me blind to blind society. Truth be told it would be great, To record sounds and meditate, Without hoping to get paid, Ad space isn't free, We pity ourselves if ads are sent to peace. We sent our brothers off to war. Speaking of the fun; Fighting for a rival hoard. Dying in the sun; Pierced by a brother's sword. Ah, ugh, I'm wracking my poor brain, Thieves thieved some time for fun, Our heroes appearing more and more depraved. To share the same disease, Tortured through our dreams, To decay among the trees, Torment; a short and brutish piece, Yet all of it is great, Bleeding essence every day, Alderson loop of disjunctive melodies, Existence sings in remedies, Never will the tempest ease, Yet underneath there lay a silent tone, Arranging scattered harmonies.
The Sophist
2014-08-20 12:00 am
All that follows may be cheap. A 'squito bite from a 'siah kiss No mas, this mass a mess, 'Spose we're 'spose to say we're bless', Well bless it ought to fess, A feeling for a million fools, Is wanton for a prince. Yet elegant amiss, Fools dancing on the Sun's drying lips, As though it were a tryst, Forcing Cosmos to a fit, Perhaps the sun is but a tool, Reflecting light, Projecting an abyss, Perhaps there's dimensions we can't see, We dream beyond 3D, Yet teach it in our school, Rest inside to silence screams, Our origins never will be seen, Although it would be cool, All that follows may be cheap.
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
2014-07-03 12:00 am
Another victory means I'm undone, Wars are lost where battles won, I can no longer fight with spirits dead, The bards asleep, the songs are done. Pyrrhus produced a record for fun, Ruined industry in one fell swoop, Breaking critics' thumbs, Sounds of cyanide group hit number one. Perhaps best to join the opposition, For fear that death becomes my own position, My army met attrition, Attrition proved a worthy foe. But if they come, I must not go, For I doth know, sky hide not sun, Nor drums, moon, cloud or snow. I'll shine bright 'til my gallows strung, I saved the Kingdom; Now I'm scum.
Gord
2014-06-30 12:00 am
So abruptly that it caused me to stumble. The words of the mother, The pastor defends. Im so ugly, When I asked if my mom loved me, She said: Let's just be friends.
The Sophist
2014-06-18 12:00 am
Abeyant for the fall of man, Obeyant utilitarian, To be killed by robot tanks, Brought to life and killed again. To turn the world into a sun, Instead I'll long to own the moon, No muse but she, the only one, Her darkness tears my skin of gloom. Bottled pride, A drunk misuse, Beauty whore'd out to the masses, All could be in bliss without, Fragile multitudes, No doubt, My love is better glass-less.
Gord
2014-06-11 12:00 am
I dander, To her I cling tightly, In her I find me. In me she finds her; So clothesline or a ligature, Is just a state of mind being. At least, that's what I'm seeing; So I pander, I find the back end of a hand, Which leaves me more filled with anger. Yet everyday I manage. Until I found out the sun is dangled, So perhaps too, the moon is dangled, Leaving me in anger. My love in the clutches of another, My whole life fandangled;
The Sophist
2014-04-29 12:00 am
I'd strike out the sun for harming sinews, This service I'll pay myself as a fine, Enlarger of kingdom if ever I die, 'queathing my soul for the roar of a lion. I giveth thee lukewarm blood of a newborn, God my appetite; I hunger for power. Shrew Lord of perpetual night liveth nigh, Covered from danger in half-lighted fog. Co-sign and write before bloodlines congeal. Our magic will bring desolation to smog. Fill the lines afore 'why?' and 'oh sigh' Flog grace and damnation 'till three parts combine.
The Sophist
2014-04-21 12:00 am
In the name of women's rights, Two young men get pissed and die, By the blade in his own hand, By the rope he himself tied. In the name of women's rights, To never find out why, To never hear converse opinions, A mental homicide. Bitches screaming loudly, 'til their voices touch the sky. A lot of them are guys, Barring men from their own brethren, In the name of women's rights. Hoards of them unite; Birds in search of civil war, Spread their wings in flight, Planning only in the sun. They tear away the night, Blocking doors and bearing torches, Forcing entry via fight. As such, I fear I might, Find my way to unknown speaker, And be confronted via knife, By fanatics without wives, Or fanatics without husbands, Living stark perverted lives.
Gord
2014-04-18 12:00 am
A hundred and ten, live. Sundries of men, dead. Sun dried in a tent, Limbs sundered and spent. A disunion to the dissection. A preparation for misunderstanding. A sun song sung, So sundrily that the people run, From open pasture to the sunken, Then a tsunami wave blocks the son. From the pasture the bell is wrung. Sons of god in hell, soaked asunder.
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