Gord
2023-09-17 07:37 pm
Was it like this all along? A bird wonders... Like gawkers, ponders what they saw... 'Would you describe me, inside of a bar?' 'Must again, you make things be so hard?' 'Wasp, like I bumble about the pollen, Following a humble belief seems wanton, When you believe in things so violent and wrong.' Bird, quickly describes in simple songs, Big cities, things it saw in the puddle, Colors of war, bees that talk. Freedom, it sings, is also simple, One really needs not drift apart. The big screen, another big scene, It was mostly a facade... Balk, talk is talk, feeling in the dark, But most of what a bird said, lived on, Proper relief is upon the soul after all... So they write less of evil on the walls, In the sky, on maps or village carts. Against nothing, see the days beyond... I suppose those concepts are behind us. Was it like this all along? A bird wonders... Is the city like a swallow, or like to swallow, and will he be the next one gone? Cause for alarm, make calls upon, Anything, but you lost the one. You love... Like a dog watching another sun set, More talk, another sun will rise again, Life for this bird is but more dogs. So like a coward, survives the storm, Shivering as they make their calls. Inevitably, to face the power lines alone.
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Gord
2023-08-21 06:17 pm
Like alchemists of emotional chemistry, Heavy silence about various subjects, Talks about how tents in a field, Might impact your freedom. Their beliefs, their decrees, It all has to do with degrees, Then-deceased, legacies, theories, All of which, to them seems real.
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
2023-01-11 06:09 pm
A rabbit runs free, in the past, Toward nothing it finds meaning. Fish of streams, pivot teeth, Laughter, tongue chatter, sea. By the brine they find peace, And man, king of beasts. Man forms groups, Parts in two, like lips, The bartender and you. Glass tightly in a grasp, Like a woman's clasp, Like a rabbit in a trap, Wiggle dance, calls, Nobody calls back. Like man, cash advanced, Wiggle dance, calls, Calls, nobody calls back. That man can run like a rabbit, Dance like a rabbit, Hears like a rabbit, Fears the language of diagrams, Candles and passwords. He describes freedom, devoid of it's traps, Talking about assholes out of sadness and anger. He tries to understand, too foolish in banter, Expanding his mind with standards that matter, His reaction barely examined, rather managed, Inside he feels his wiggles, the dance begins, What can exist, he thinks as a passing thing, Kicks and springs his feet, never hears a ring.
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
2022-08-02 07:17 am
Woof, they say, Speech inhumane, They study what they hate, Play games with racists. Beasts, in with the snails: Dharma talks, From a far off mosque. Set those dogs apart, Even if the numbers great. They don't want to talk, Just bark, bark, bark. The dogs that they are.
Gord
2022-07-19 10:35 pm
Meaningless draught, meandering feeling, Bar talk, believe not the sweet whispering, Thinking things talked in the deep darkness, They aught, talk turns to action, They are what they are. Sinking stone, mephitic toad of the ocean floor, What does the heart wish for? Winning wars? Logistic growth? Cathartic revolt? Ownership? Satan, do you hear your kindred souls? Card or cash, is all they know. They see fawns freeze in the snow, and move on, it's things seen from a car. It's part of a laundry list of misgivings, They want what they want, They are what they are.
Gord
2021-09-16 08:48 am
Truffle, my gems are gone. All bets are off. Swan, water, ruffles, Trouble underwater, The fish will balk: Death march talk becomes bubbles, They beg off, shot in the stomach, Test nothing, swim to the bottom. Lord, I spoke to God. Soft, I sodded off. Man, laughter, shuffle, Trouble in the park, People just forgotten: Talking until nonsense, Their tussles long, Of consequence and knowledge, Then replaced by logs.
Gord
2021-05-03 02:19 am
Ire infinite, by ignorance Life is not made by appearances, Science fiction or analyzing images. Ironic it should be so definite: Want of intelligence, talking skeleton, In the end an experiment of my own. Wind instrument requiring discipline: With a single word thy kingdom learnt, Like a little tiny recumbent bicycle, Not even big enough for one person, For certain, mine is life livable, But is the danger really worth it?
Gord
2021-04-30 09:56 am
No matter where, more savage men, They know end, Lord knows them, Nothing but storm and unrest. No pants, unkempt, But at least yourself. One could fly to a moon, To talk flags in the end.
miherseed
2021-04-27 11:03 am
the santan dew crawls out of the stalk if you break it apart from the bush suddenly it burns brighter than dust small grand doors tiptoed to kiss their frames held by hinges, but try to reach north alas, their fates are back and forth there’s a somnolence to homes that are not yours holed with metaphors you never explored to tell your throat is for similes or possibly something else i wonder if wells hear wishes or if they are mere echoes of aired fulfillment perhaps that’s why the well water only gets to see the sky even if i bury my fingers beneath the soil, i am no root. even when i draw lines on the sand, i make no shore.
Lynn
2021-04-01 11:42 pm
sycophantic silhouette stalks into the room and the woman who casts it brings death, immortal doom she bids disguise fall when the man sees her through never a dame, but bluegreenbrown eyes, same as you you, who lives their life by ritual, routine will never see the cold, red blood or the glistening sheen of sweat on the brow of a new, soft corpse or the embers of the flame that drive you north your cadence keeps you pliant, your rhyme bids you no further! what drove you to this, to poetry, to murder? as the blade bids adieu through the back of his skull and the red of his head grows increasingly dull and the light bleeds out of the sword in his eye ‘any woman can see him orgasm, but how many see him die?’
Gord
2021-02-25 01:46 am
Understand and teach, Understated leaning; Two doves meet, screw, Too political to flee So peruse their feelings. Undo seams, view my being; What ensues is anarchy, Stop to stare at the window, What do you see? A world, without me; Call the children, in at once! It's not what in his heart, It's the way he talks! A speaking hall of mirrors, All it's brilliance lost. Chicken mostly water, Only poultry in part. Justice and peace, Butter and cheese, Elephant man feels, just like bad dreams.
Gord
2020-12-04 02:41 am
Ball fist, if wishes could talk, One would place their chips down; If life were a play, or odd film, Kings would admit our wrongs, But it's not. Wishing could be in your head, Talking all things that god is, Appending the self at the end, Thinking itself less important, But it's not.
Gord
2020-10-20 04:08 pm
Is my life but a minor arc? Mirror dark, a nine of hearts, Why walk into the distant fog, Past miles of silver boxes, Simple props with silver foxes, Waiting for their turn to balk. I could write ironic of a pen who talks, Night-time bombings, a man who moved on, Wildlife watching. 'Will I be fed to dogs' The pen responds: 'Terrified by conflict you write a law, But will the dogs obey? I think not.'
Innasense
2020-09-25 08:01 am
Throw back the covers on the incessant redundancy of another day. Putting in time for a world we no longer believe in, if ever we truly did. ...Them rose-tinted glasses were long-ago shattered... Our dedication repaid With more stolen hours Coming home with less time To spend with ourselves, Or perhaps those we purposely surround ourselves with, Than we’ll spend talking to ceiling tiles in the dark later on. Droning away the limited hours, The constant pull of a thumb , —Refreshing— Giving our ❤️s away In an opinionated match game Finger-fucking ourselves to sleep Just to say we felt alive Before succumbing to darkness With a see-you-later sayonara Whispered into black, Just like the onyx air pixels we’ll be counting later to lure heavy eyelids back into a much-too-finite slumber ...Or maybe the fluffy white bastards will do the trick Whatever helps you sleep at night... Next day, the inbox the same, Full of spam mail we unsubscribed to ages ago That somehow keeps rearing ugly heads, hydra-like with a pretty new name every time, to keep us believing in the possibility that this particular lovesick prince will be our salvation. DELETE to clear our foggy heads While trying to remember which ones are the liars. The mirage keeps on shifting. Repeat, repeat, World keeps on turning, pulling us along, A child’s toy on a string. But what if, for a moment, We turn away from from the unending axial spins, Sidestep the scythe again, seek out the sunrise... Find the beauty brave souls! Crack open that Earth-shaped geode and search out the wild world within And you know what... Go buy you a new pair of those pretty pink shades
crybaby
2020-08-20 11:26 am
im literally dying, dying, dying, dying i just wanna give up crying, crying, crying. it’s cold in my room it looks like a tomb, it’s cold in the house all the people are out hiding from each other not like those ideal lovers we’re cold without a warm hearted spouse. you’re shouting those words i wish ive never heard everybody is hurt and left in the dirt. for who is it good and why is it useful that we don talk the way we used to? im literally dying, dying, dying, dying i just wanna give up crying, crying, crying. but i just cant, cuz im in tears, i have many fears we wont talk for years. i wanna speed up the time to help healing the scares. it’s such a fucking shame, tomorrow’s valentine’s day we should be having fun but i guess it’s over now cuz we dont love the same oh what a shame. it’s shit being alone so darken your clothes and shut up your thoughts it’ll be better in months but who really knows? who really knows?
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