Gord
2020-07-09 03:52 am
Tomorrow trailing, no erasers, Maybe no stress can reach relief, Papers, their lies and keys, Power is in just eyes to see; One hand hold, one hand to reach, Narrow is escape, is this fate, Or feeling? Do arrows fly away, misguided, Awry in their aerial affairs, Fore bearer blameless in errand; For barrels makeshift of nothing, What is the price of a country?
0
Gord
2020-01-24 07:18 am
She says with her eyes: I am gone, Evil days begone though. Friday I am home, Peace be with you, they say some words; "Does a partridge purr? Does a catalogue write itself?" Words themselves can be like a cone, Until one meanders about the dwelling. Lonely girl, what do I know? Is not the world yours to sell? Would Lucky keep a sword or bow? Would she emblazon her chest, With Lions, giants, family crests, Sayings of young exuberance, No room for the later lessons. Spear and shield, All you need is God's help, Divine wealth, stature, Time and a long winter, Along those lines, I feel you'll get better. No sous vide or fried Kelp.
Gord
2019-12-03 01:34 pm
Like a hurt cardinal, bandaged, Perhaps again it flies perverse, Perhaps times himself per verse, Per second, per lurch, per word; Managing his time it finds a perch, Challenging himself, flies the world; Flies and bugs no more, Pecking the spine it eats a horse, Like a fuhrer pardoned, seminal, Perhaps one finds it not so curt, Curtsies, words lies, Lord survives. "I would make gentle return, Messiah of none, I arrive, Time to waste no more." It hears but fury, speaks short, "Perhaps past such things were worse, Such meaning in verses, Supple leanings of wings of worry, Speckled and shiny this rock is yours"
Gord
2019-08-23 07:46 am
Images of text, a thousand words, Thousands absurd then bridges bend. Curt be my pen atwixt their cloud, Fountain of their dreams allowed, Pounding coins, their dreams aloud Outbursts blurred of Hitchen's hand. Dreaming mountains with giant crowds, Client crows, their giant demands. Imagine a test, a thousand words, Testing absurdly on a given text, What word comes second, or last. A mass, a mast, a caste aghast, Rest snugly where water amassed.
Gord
2019-05-08 07:59 pm
Courage at last, my heart be closed, Would a tap of emotion be more apropos? Cold alack in a world of clothes, Told: Dress myself more appropriate, My moment is now and I'm blowing it. Could it be at last, my heartbeat thuds, One claps along, misunderstands the words, I'm told I owe an explanation, for those, For they were written bitter and old. So? that's how they turned out, spoiled, Characters, write their life in whole, Much like something serpentine coiled.
Gord
2019-02-06 07:32 pm
Sidewalks broken on my boulevard, Auburn hair where I used to walk, Talk, and think of her dialogue. I'd thought greenery would fall, Replaced with concrete barriers, Perhaps I'd talked too freely, Told one too many tale too tall To still be taken seriously. Discreet forever, words picky, Discrete for ever, world sticky, Disformity for even worms licking. Take me away from this place, For even screaming and kicking, Seeing worse, feeling indignant. Not to curse the growing infant, But the plants must go. No handlebars rusted, To bikes comprised of broken dreams, No van full of children hopeful, Just a van to the hospital, please, My heart is about to explode to pieces.
Gord
2018-11-09 04:40 pm
Railing, mirth like nail files, Failure at the last mile, paling, Valencia mailing, orange letters: "Hello, my love endearing, Are you not hearing my words, Cello, or Othello reading." Orator deceiving, apportioned more, For boys, they are but fleeting, Foreign peering at another girl. Teenage to be, card or palm reading, Do my feelings mean nothing more? A chore on your list of meetings, Suit, Tie and your railing grasped tightly. I might be a fool for lies and deceit, Ununique like an onion, carrot or leek: "Choose me please, you need to eat. Color me pink or beat me anew, kneed, Until I am bread, so says the meat." Your railing a crutch, always needed, Like carrot bread has disgusting features, You have disingenuous dealings with realism.
Gord
2018-10-21 08:56 am
Why write technical poetry? Skylight he remarks, opens, Beams of light Caepoeria, Room a knight of California, Adjoined, special upholstery, Coins, for centuries. My king coiled, Toiling thy rings, By fools finding hands, Bringing foil to my picnics. Thinking spoilt, Singing doyle, Drunk stringing his violin, To play brittle. How would I do, Aemula? Is my world to soon, exposed, Or steeped for your future? A mule for god, How would I too, butcher, Myself, user and administrator? I'm you for Claude, Europe, Sugar, or urban woodland. Frogs bulwark their homeless, I'm too for piles of durance, Furthermore for living fulcrum, Furthermore, for here it comes. Words technical, sure, but speaking of, Can I not just turn and bite my thumb?
The Sophist
2018-10-02 07:38 pm
Whatever they do find With whomever I don't mind Though I don't believe They must be alien I lost time Swear I'm not blind I look and see Words in the breeze Tongue-tied They oft-lie Telling tales of talking trees Ghosts will moan Beg and plead Selling rhymes But not this guy Not Today I don't got time Not for pizza Not for pie Not for holding others up Just to drop them when I die Today I built a shelf So they can sit there when I'm gone Thinking about nothing While they listen to my songs
Gord
2018-09-18 07:29 am
She won't relent, Heart of paper, stone read. Western hero, composing feelings, Zeal formulaic, deceit ceaseless. Eastern, kind words repentant, Unlikely to spend life waiting, Ferment, offense, to be condemned. Sweetheart, If one only dances, not for scent, Lance just for chests, Language, port for gents. Madame, another supplement, For what drunken mess is other, Than more time misspent? To see the end, would we prevent? Could we? All I see is a girl, a vent, Policy diverse, absurd, dissent.
Gord
2018-04-27 09:29 am
Feelings made up, makeshift, Ideals for tomorrow racist, She remarks foundation. He responds formation, Endlessly talks mountains, Flying fowl, howling oasis. The boy comes around, Left alone unanswered, Too late for pounding. Too late surmounting, Midnight is the hour, With a toy box full of clowns, Breath like oneself drowning, Her words are like fire, Counting her countenance, Even if she implied flowering, He runs away cowardly, trampling.
Gord
2018-04-04 04:02 pm
Style lapland, cola, A black knight broken, All they dig is holes, No pause. I'm tsarnov of the rhyme, I'm Midas of the pot, With time running out, And Race not lost.
Gord
2018-02-09 01:57 pm
Always crows flying, living Ottawa, Silence as loud as a passing truck. Liar of the present, fool future, Suture and praying for none at all. Always comedies written, hands numb, Painter finishes his castles, backward, Words tired yet landing with oomph; Posture lacking, Skull bashed in, Tomorrow's recluse and marked man, As the crowd begins, he rescinds.
Gord
2018-02-06 09:34 pm
She lays, sunbathing, Awake in the sunset, Placed as an epithet, Following but shadow, Celebrity malleable. Sequence engaged, tomorrow; Letter sent too late, Bed slept in layman, Words dear borrowed, But a fool too vague. Sheets in disarray, One saves time folding, Sleeping on top. One who faces the cold, Has no reason for folio, Numbering hardships for foals, Galloping into the distance, Their grandeur taught.
Gord
2018-01-23 10:53 am
He dreams of winter, tireless, listless, Forming fists, linger, Five fingers for taking, Making and mocking, Flying at the equinox; Checks to greet, A future cost. Apart from his words, He talks opposite, Of walks in the park, And poor pessimism. Perhaps one day, Forgotten is passion, Castles of young love, Tall as his bastion. He tells you of virtues, Rarely living attache, Stacking stones, Flashing cards flourished, Floor patterned, Checkerboard, Poorly planned, Colored randomly.
Gord
2017-12-27 10:00 am
Amateur poet, ultimate, Heroic, stoic, slowest, Everything rhymed about, Hopeful of inchoate. Chum of the lake, think, Who is the wake for? Dead men living pale, or those living, Mouth agape, ailing, Flailing their limbs, Scene akimbo, Fare unanswered, Meter fake. So they take what is mine, Question pondered, What is life plastered? Humanity mastered, Time honored, or is it a last laugh, before dying afterward? Poets lie yet find alms, Measured footsteps bald, Words lifelessly clever, Heart hard to hold palm; Old arms to old arms, Adages stolen loved upon; Bard holy, arch golden, To carve lonely, Barns beholden, Nothing nobel. Par normally, like poultry, To starve colts. Ark art, Swan gone, Dark garb, lark fawned, Opposite of his mind, He finds laughter, Chapter after chatter, Chancellor gone; He defines pattern, An afterthought.
Gord
2017-12-25 08:13 am
Amateur poet, ultimate, Heroic, stoic, slowest, Everything rhymed about, Hopeful of inchoate. Chum of the lake, think, Who is the wake for? Dead men living pale, or those living, Mouth agape, ailing, Flailing their limbs, Scene akimbo, Fare unanswered, Meter fake. So they take what is mine, Question pondered, What is life plastered? Humanity mastered, Time honored, or is it a last laugh, before dying afterward? Poets lie yet find alms, Measured footsteps bald, Words lifelessly clever, Heart hard to hold palm; Old arms to old arms, Adages stolen loved upon; Bard holy, arch golden, To carve lonely, Barns beholden, Nothing nobel. Par normally, like poultry, To starve colts, Farms wholesome.
Gord
2017-12-22 01:43 pm
Songs Synonyms, ideals integer, Mining mindful, crawling chronic, Words ironic, worries worthwhile. Silent as the wind, Tall as a child, Lifestyle sans desire. Flat as a minor, Primer climber, Reading wires, Scans feel like fire, Yet no ire legit, Life so swift, time so brisk, Irons tattered to bits, Squire denied his patronage, Choir so somber, violins singing, As if to start from a beginning, Would be a life so sad. Lambs branded, wrath grand, Laughing loud, farmer liar, Stanza stance awful stands, Awestruck by unknown view, New news of him: old news, Pandering Youtube, pandhandling, Fools loose lipped and no tools.
\/