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.
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Gord
2018-10-24 05:31 pm
Bartlett pears, dare i say, or shout, Without is life austere, my world grey. Some juicy poetry I heard today: "With my hands so sticky, A world become so tricky, So quickly the armoire useless, Of rickety fences, my house is." I spoke it, To save face, Bartlett pears are on their way.
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?
Gord
2018-09-19 06:50 am
As poet, aspire, assume desire, I wrote for poets, declining, Prose for poetry, I grew designer. More spoke, iron, strewn aside, Cycle heroic for biking true, Though as porch, her mire I knew. To sit in snow, still forever, cold, Gladly to mix into a sill window home. Lover's letter, one pens from notes, To end on soles, or in bags of herion, And never spoken, lovely, but phoned in, In drunken speech, early in the morning. As men, we aspire, and assume desires, I wrote for Odin, always refining, Notes for nobody, I grew aside, Man of the world, I knew her ire.
Gord
2018-08-28 11:03 am
My belly white, tattoo skin black. World external floating my inlet facts. Arms extended, hurled outward to any man, At least stolen by chance; At last romance. Of snakebites, stated minds, Or nothing. The badger writes. Science though he knows nothing of, Only fighting and dénouemen love, Fakery and the image source he knows, Yet facts alas in the seeds he sews, Spits on the dirt, who, He walks upon with shoes.
Hazey
2018-08-14 03:50 am
The thing that hurts the most. You calmed my storms. You helped make sense of the chaos. You plucked me from brokenness. Helped me find strength. I don't know what it was. But just looking in your eyes. Filled my soul with peace. I miss it. I miss the quiet. The calm. I miss us. I'm starting to feel broken again. Empty inside. Trying my best. Not to let anyone see. But there are days. Where control escapes me. Do you think of me? As often as I think of you? Do you remember my name? What it once meant to you? I look back on that day. March 10th. Where I lost you. Where every image I had of you. Just shattered. You were no longer a refuge. You became a source of pain. You still are to this day. I blame myself for it. For my losing you. It's been three months. Realizing it's true. I don't cry as much. Though my heart still does ache. Try as I might; I can't bring myself to hate; You. The situation. Us. I want to throw it under the proverbial bus. I can't. Because the sky still reminds me of you. It was our destiny. Our sky. The world was going to be ours. Accept it. It's over now. These dreams just won't come true. I need to accept that what we are. Is through.
Mata
2018-07-15 11:52 am
Go ahead laugh,smirk do or say what you are going to do..i wont and cant stop you..its ok and except that im the fool..you have proved yourself out as the klown..as you thought you were cool,walking around claiming to be down..at the time you knew you bad me fooled,i already had the clue;you never or knew how to be true..but its all good cuz who am i to judge?iam able to at least except tbat i chose to be the fool..and to sit back in the crowd n enjoy the show;rather than wanting to be the ringleader and run the show..while you were in the streets claiming to be down and believing to be on the grind;im the"REAL WORLD" of reality you were doin what a ring leader does...marching around advertizing"the circus is in town"..but its ok in your own unrealistic world to believe in what you see and who you claim to be..so im willing to settle with compromise instead of regret..at least have a lil respect to turn our backs to each other and walk away and live in our own realistic world.. MATILDA MADRID
Gord
2018-04-20 07:16 am
Nickname earning: flight to nursing. Pursuing blind rhymes eyes dictate, Spouse filate, being bed-ridden, Fed paste, lies told too tasteless. The self irate, then ergo inflated, A burrowed snake safely slithers, Within a borough named Richard, Who lives past the poison sword, Ego position lord, nails fingerless. No one wants to die a virgin, but some are doomed to that fate. It's a cruel world, I know. Lates.
Tina Marie
2018-02-20 03:12 pm
As I looked into my mirror one day, I could see, that a sad little girl was looking at me. I said to this child where is your smile? Through tears she replied, "Can we talk for a while? Your mommy is dead. They took your daddy away. I don't know how you face your mirror everyday?" Besides the lump in my throat, I also felt, a tear trickled down as my heart begin to melt. Sweet Child you see, it is hard to explain, how people can hurt you and cause you such pain. but if you believe that God sent us Jesus his son, you can face everyday and you won't have to run. So smile little girl there is a whole new world of love and happiness and a brand new start, the moment you ask Jesus to come into your heart. Looking deeper yet, into my mirror I could see, that this sad little girl looked exactly like me.
Gord
2018-01-31 06:56 am
Letters written of nonsense, Inner conflicts, profits, Constantine of outfits, Proud of their holes. Opposite, of continents, Sinkholes, swallowing, Mere weathering problems, All they do is disclose. Imagine a world insolvent, Overpopulated and cold, Where fistfuls of dollars, Are better off. Plastic like the ocean, Poetic hopeful, Scotland. Politically motivated, Heart emplaced. However honest, lies of fate, One defends an idea flagrant, Upon a hill of nothing sacred, Fairness being the continent. Unless one wishes a life content, In a country of many ferrets.
Gord
2017-12-20 09:55 am
I write without relent, Lawn ashen, body bent, Fawn bashful, words pawn. I write without intent, Politic truth, not respect. Words choleric, forested, Another blonde moribund; Floral, me'er ornament, Porcelain and floor clung; Flies flying and food dung, No chloroseptic rush. Sitting alone, he claims, Throne vacant, citrus grown, Plain clothes, no Satan. He makes popular statements, Pandering blatant, but fun, Worldview of a drunk taken. Full of heart, Dull as garbage, trumped, Meandering serious, Meaning wallet plump, Friends gone, blunt, Ledge found, jump.
Gord
2017-11-17 03:18 pm
Tattoo on her arms, postured, Flippantly she remarks of nonsense, Tense with feigned confidence, A world over marching pasture. Presume their charms poor, Slipping of mudpiles immense, Loose with large boulders, Earth nobler than it is dumb. They resume opportune position, Posturing of nonsense distant, Less limbs and less benediction, Ammunition less firearms existence.
Gord
2017-11-03 12:07 pm
Fanciful dreams idyllic, A World kept inside, Drinking of the streams, Field workers denied; Hands tied, perch supplied Arms raised and sullied, Ashen as the skies; Blinking in acceptance, The step child pummeled, Guised as it is wired, More ignorance desired, So says the child; Father humbled: To be eaten by lions, He mumbles and flies, The world a mystery, He inevitably hides.
Gord
2017-10-18 11:50 am
I have concepts for days, Metaphors for four hours, And wordplays for wakes. I'm not bragging, I'm just impaired, Flawed above the mane. Miscarrying paper knowledge, Cutting loves careless arms. She finds herself wanting, Hair flowing, river forming, Learning is her sophism, So she lies until tomorrow, Feigning disinterest ursury, Tales of cursory, courtesy. A verse aloft in the clouds, Sounds out to an empty crowd, Life of deception floundered. World as in twitching flour, Face equal, equivalent arms, She curtsies and bows, turns; Runs away, her face as ours.
Gord
2017-10-13 11:32 am
Florian mispronounced completely, Adding elles and a monarchy, Standard wordplay misused efficiently. Soap of the mind, floss of the horse, Cutting our teeth on useless fleece. Forgetting their needs, people worsen, Fleeing to worlds sincere yet fleeting. Spying, leaving decrying yourself not, Received to cheering regardless, Archean and poor as thoughtforms are.
Gord
2017-09-28 04:57 am
Feelings in her heart, Apathy of mind lost, The world desired, Earth forgotten, Therefore pursuant of swine, Love begotten. Reading of foreigners, Yet her poetry declines, Like Vines, Fine Wines, Rhyme lines her mind; Obsessive of forewords and forever afters; Useless goodbyes, Given in poor wording. Forgotten is passion, For words and order, A husband mastered, A wife only borrowed.
Gord
2017-09-20 04:07 pm
So sits a homely giant, Face sagged into manic, Stone eyelids and mask, Seeing the world as past, He undoes his passing; Leaving literal caves, Only breaching a cage, Mitigating his laugh, He upstages his own fate, Teaching pupils who stay afraid, Egg on his dress, Stag of the forest, Unwashed, unclean. Walls silver and platinum, A giant horse still gaits, Walks circles then defecates, Sleeping soundly until dawn; Enemies however struck down, Their laughter an afterthought, Justly he can run far, fast, Never figuring in absence, Filling him with maxims silly, Father pays the bills, He lives simply. Simply living a masquerade, To hide a face so pimply.
Gord
2017-09-12 09:42 am
Swords filed down to soot, Roses thrown at their feet. No proof of their misdeeds, Long Forgoing unlikely heroes, The Earth rolls on it's shape, Divides by zero then escapes, Sequence complete, Even if it seems short of an era. Could I program a world so full hate? Only more divisive, with my heart to feint on; Should I find a brush to paint, I could not, Nor would I make clay forms, And force them to mate, As Satan does. Who more lovingly than I, Is timed less? I would laugh at the sheer thought. Cakes of dirt and mud pies, Fed to a princess, For the world outside she knows not of, What a austere world to take from.
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