Gord
2026-08-13 07:14 pm
Vast: mountains sway, At our age, the brain, Nowadays. Forgetful of things, Mountains sway, Like concepts of outer space. Distance, refrain, At our age, the brain, Under, stands the pain, It never comprehends, Where and what is, It just toils away.
0
Gord
2026-07-14 02:23 am
Volleyball, dodging zombies, Down the street, serving coffee, Like stars revolved around me. Also like stars: She doesn't need a third body, Complicating things, She doesn't need another colleague, She just wants me gone, And wants my money, Like stars revolved around me, And I owe them everything. Karate Chops, melancholy thoughts, As she drops off a cappuccino cup. Are you done... ? No, I wish you would love me, And not be harmed. And not across from me, Always held away, Like stars revolve.
Gord
2026-07-05 12:15 pm
Softly shifting silver sands, Solid to liquid, Liquid to gas. I just felt, if you never left, None of that comes to pass. Cocky glibness, middle class, Christmas to windows, Windows to glass. I just sat aside, never asking, What do you say to the fairer sex? You're everything I've ever dreamt? Well, I find there's just none left, Nothing but adventures, And acceptance tests. Coffee drinking, ginger snaps, Trauma to forgiveness, Forgiveness until collapse. You're everything I ever dreamt, I'd do anything to bring you back, Like an eye that stares ahead, Tears roll down my face again. I'll never be the things I lack, I'll never change, skin like that, Only grows with age. Salt to water, Water evaporates.
Gord
2026-06-22 09:34 pm
Table between bonds, Prayer shawl across the arms, I think you've nodded off... So upstairs and criss-cross, Stress balls, stretch marks, Leading to ex marks. I wish things weren't the way they are, You and I could finish what we started, But everything is decided by economics, Including the birth of a daughter, And the laughter that comes along with it. Fables between health bars, Self, like her chess clock, Untouched between punches. I wish things weren't the way they are, You and I had finished what we started, Two people who never fell apart, Including the birth of a daughter, And the laughter that comes along with it.
Gord
2026-06-18 06:11 pm
Where did the first seed grow? Plus, who owns it? Monsanto needs to know... for the lawsuit, Above the Earth, also below, Orchards grow. What you reap is what you sow, But, who owns it? You, or someone you don't know? Whose wish is to have your wish, And everything else you covet. Orchard, apples never fall far from, So, they know where to find you, And everything else you love... Orchard, to the Italian restaurant Sold to you at whatever cost, Like internet does to things you love, Nostalgia wears off like a bitter rust. Orchard, what have we done? Orchard, where have you gone? Orchards, and we moved on, Into the distance, back to god. What you reap is what you sow, But, who owns it? Like Cleopatra said to Rome: Above the Earth, so below. Above them both, Orchards grow.
Gord
2026-06-05 06:01 pm
In the nicest possible way, I say to you: It's just a cape. It's part of a play, I can't make things magic again... Injected into blood: theatrics. Addiction upon the face, She paces the room, Tolerance and waiting, When does the show begin? When will the feeling stay? In the nicest possible way, I say to you: It's just a cape, It's part of a play, It doesn't make things magic again.
Gord
2026-06-04 10:00 pm
Little bug: Little pigs, Little frogs, Little slug. Finger work beneath civil tongue: Fish supper, friction with drums. A little brother, too big for hugs, A little bit of dust, bits of rough: Personality, but's and cynical plots, Digital work beneath a given tongue. What would you say to me honestly? That you wish I was crushed? Well, I'm not. I lived never thinking of you much. Where is your response? Little love for little bugs, Simple things, inner calm, bigger cause... More concern for grudges, Than writing another song. Give a little time, you give it up... A little pain, a little age, little fun: Singing about doors that are shut, Invisible cuts that the makeup covers, For a while, until the stage goes dark, Then begins your performance, Entertainment to little bugs.
Gord
2026-05-06 02:51 pm
In my arms, your arms, You talk, then I talk, But that life is long gone. For a list of things you are: Love of fine art, Love of my arms, Love for my mom, Love, from wild mobs, Hate for me deep in your heart. Does that, to you, seem honest? Pleas, bargains, Over t-shirts, waterbottles, Street artist and colleagues, In trap houses on Mary. Does that, to you, seem honest? They sleep under pizza boxes, Can never play in concert. For a list of things you are: Nothing like you were, Nothing in your arms, Nothing for the club, Nothing from your heart.
Gord
2026-04-18 08:52 pm
Dry fog, fight songs, In my arms, your arms, You talk, then I talk, But that life is long gone, A dry cough on a live vlog. What was it I lost? The right to be what I was? The fight to be what I'm not? From my thoughts: Fuck off. For a list of things you are: Love of fine art, Love of my arms, Love for my mom, Love, from wild mobs, Hate for me deep in your heart. Does that, to you, seem honest? Pleas, bargains, Over t-shirts, waterbottles, Street artist and colleagues, Live in trap houses on Mary St. Does that, to you, seem honest? They sleep under pizza boxes, Drunks, who can never play in concert, What was it I lost again? The right to be what I was? To fight to live and die on a cross, Live life on a cot? Instead, I'll climb the hill to the top.
Gord
2026-04-16 10:41 am
Love from the art class... Is everything the same, Or have you changed perhaps? If my tomorrow never came, Am I still just some faggot, That never had your respect? We both know front to back, When it comes to class, but What about our crossed paths? Does it matter, about the facts? Whether I fell to able hands, You would rather write about it, You already decided, so sing that, And when you finally do get to it, You shove it up your ass. Love, from the bottom of my heart, They never taught you art in class, And you never learnt good taste, Is everything the same? No... I would say you changed, perhaps, But you never had any fuckin class. And, that comes from me... Love, from the art class, All the way to the current of my heart: Things have changed, It's better you stay hard, man, A wave from across the bar. Far away, like your honest thoughts.
Gord
2026-04-01 08:32 pm
Your friend talked, You saw my disgust. How could you? It wasn't. I still called you drunk, Two thirds of what I thought, I should have called you hot, I should have told you what I wanted. Instead you talked until I fell apart, I realized your better off, That we could never be in love. Your friend talked, You tried to get her to stop, Honestly I wanted more, But I wasn't being honest. I was trying to be myself... Instead you talked, I realized you are better off, That you would see things I never would, That if I had told you what I wanted, That we could never be in love.
Gord
2026-02-28 07:43 am
Like the sun goes away, You should be by again, Instead, darkness stays, Things change forever. Color is what he liked, Now, it's black and white, Weddings, wallflower, Cocaine and dice. Like a sun, centre sky, No exit stage right, Eyes upon you, finally, No escape from caskets, Or tricks to mezmerize. I wish I could tell you why, Like the eyes upon you, I can't sell you a lie, like, Everything is wonderful. You lost your mind with narcotics, You lost your magic along with it, Like the sun goes away, You should be back again, Instead, darkness stays. Color, is what you liked, Now, it's black or white, No weddings, wallflower, Mostly cocaine and dice.
Gord
2026-02-03 08:08 pm
Berries, on a plate, Berries, stay in place, Barrie, by the bay, Very much the same, Painted by numbers, Same as yesterday. Terry Towel upon the face, Cucumbers, and potatoes, Over white and yellow paste. In the street, expensive things, And nodding off on heroin, Near a tesla by the beach.
Gord
2025-07-09 10:11 pm
On canvas, paint, Faint inner lines, One day, help will arrive. Fox to maggots, sages alike, Not passion, lies, One day, help will arrive. Small matters, aside, Lay awake in the night, Doorways open, Like man and a knife. All that matters is survival, Today, protection of life. Black magic, paint, What makes things mine? Fate, or time? I can't say faithfully, Hopefully, one day, help will arrive.
Gord
2025-06-18 03:16 am
Fist, upon brickwork, in repetition, My impression is the stigma persists, It's an effect of my symptoms... In reminiscence, problems were clear, Upon a cliff, above the tar pits, I think of a picture with scribbles on it, It's funny, small things, in the end, Even left in place, I would jump to my death. Vodka Tonic, Kalamata olive, My impression is the addiction persists, It's effectively my existence.
Gord
2025-05-07 06:41 am
Thorough I write my kinship, Kingship, flagship furlough, Turmoil, searching for more. Is it just lies, unknowns? You seem to say so... Though, you write by wishing, Never anarchy and addiction, The things that you know. One more pint, by instinct, Stitches, side bitches, dislikes, sometimes singing. Is it just lies, unknowns? You seem to say so, Though, you live by it, Unlike any lyrics you wrote.
Gord
2025-03-11 04:39 am
Commit a crime and tell me, Uphill climb, and emptiness, Pills alter the mind, The novels I write aren't helping. I no longer deny blessings, All I had in life is French seams, Red meat and prayer beads. The movie is for the sex scene, Simple child, on empty, Pills alter the mind, Barrels this time, sweat beads. Why can't I, be like a chess piece, Alone, untouched by deadbeats? Webbing is where the spider eats, Domestic things involve police, Collective lives can then convene. A minor piece, A minor key, Minor to the ones who sing, A major deal on my journey, Despite wind, spiders scheme, What is not real is the bodies.
Gord
2025-02-14 08:46 pm
Cannot you write of greater things? Or still is life consumed with frings? What do vegetables in a garden say? That they are selfish, wrong, gay, That the old ways have gone away? Carrots are obsessed with sex, Consumed with greed, and peppers, What does sausage on a skillet say? It sits, writhes and screams in pain. Life isn't an arcade machine, You don't put coins in and get to play.
\/