Gord

2019-11-12 07:25 am

Write not of tramplings,
Tramp whispering, quiet:
Were you to write a hymn,
For him, would it be so pious,
So timeless, could it be?
Could you close your eyes,
See peonies in a garden?

What is a peony, but alive,
Without a whistler to guide?
What is my life, but pennies,
Withstanding misers in life,
What is the point, but a sword,
Curt be I to point or hide.

Gord

2019-11-07 09:07 am

Misunderstood lyrics, Reverend,
Had you not asked of my kids,
Or the loved ones I cherished?
Thorough I write my kinship,
Kingship, flagship furlough,
No science to write myself,
Is it just lies of unknowns,
Just lies, unknowingly,
Trust dying in fun foals,
Or stampedes around the field,
Not Informed of where they going?
Can God even hear a man when he moans,
Does he cover an ear, hope and pray?
Does he occasionally call things gay?
You misunderstand my intention,
No questions ponder foolish in heaven,
God's gift could be enjoying the stay.

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

2019-01-09 12:52 pm

I write without notes,
No goblins, or hope,
Aftermath nonsense. So?

I write long-form cribs,
Despite shotguns, dibs,
Despite skunks glibs:
Seven, Eight. 
Eight, Nine.
Just in time, coughing:
"Forgive my hands,
I am pandering, but
All I wish is to climb,
My trip divine,
My lips atwine, 
Would you be so suited,
Had I not arrived?"

In the middle, my tie mismatches,
Patchwork outfits, simple acids.
Dissolve an owners possessions,
Would ten not ask, where are my people,
Clothes and houses?
I would think at last, and note it,
Seven ate nine hungry and homeless,
To not play such a hand, preposterous.
By standards awful and longing,
With numbers staging off-brands.

Gord

2018-12-14 08:22 pm

Walk ambles beyond,
Talk stumbles upon,
To write another poem,
Ideas like a fawn.
Appealing siren song,
My pen misguided,
My Ken to Barbie,
A life, component plastic,
Abdomen firm, mind naught,
Opponent, you cage her, 
For I cannot.

Gord

2018-12-07 12:28 pm

Lately, I write universal,
Rody Walker disapproves:
"I see through you,
Ethereal, feigning too close,
To touch a virtue.
Oh, feeling, careening mostly,
Posts passing, tongue lashings,
More dashing, floor, gas pedal,
More dashing, more dashing,
One says, like a clause."

Platinum ring, yet,
Heart diamond, set.
What's happening, please,
Forget my misdeeds, luck,
A hat in a ring, belts,
One generation fights back,
Another fights against.

Poetry succinct, mispelled,
Written on cocktail napkins,
Waitress dismayed and going,
Thrown to a well indistinct,
Dreams worth more than coins,
More than love or poinsettias,
Less two roses that grow together.

At least,
If I throw my feelings,
Into the well they drink,
One day they will think of me.
Although,
If I know I'm leaving,
Into the well I go, no warning,
or unthinking. 
Tomorrow,
If I am untoward,
Bloated upon our meeting,
Give me shelter from the storm.
Or at least a greeting.

Gord

2018-11-01 06:54 pm

Reading of lives I enjoy deceit,
My letter bold, italic and neat:
"Please hear me, Greek, leek,
I sometimes write nonsense,
Lest hope you would hear it."

Leading my lines,
Foreseeing poetically,
Receiving a liar guilty.
He says:
"For stanzas today, teacher,
I stand like bread features,
My brother filet beside me."
For once he doesn't lie,
Looks for the sky, sees ceiling.
Nothing aground marks his feeling,

Seeing the concrete,
He remarks of life:
"To tryst so wildly, again,
Would Vivaldi paint so vividly?
Probably, and with champagne,
because his name has dignity."
So seeing his window,
He thinks of rain.

Gord

2018-10-21 01:49 pm

The valley is my grave
For I sit within the mouths of caves
I shall not move for days
Nor weeks nor years
For even if I'm paid in flies 
My destiny, Tyler, I won't deny
For one day when I die
My body will atone
For I could eat a stone twice my size
My destiny, Tyler, I won't deny
My afterlife, a Bulwark Frog
Lo, to be a tadpole of one's own life
For now, I just write songs
Fantasies to make my family fear the valley's size
Then bulwark on

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

2018-10-11 03:08 pm

She writes fallacies of nobody,
Highlights for her hair color,
Callously she laughs with glee,
Ire beauty and young bravery.
Screaming in doorways sobriety,
I like to think she knows me not.
Picking flowers from her yard,
Policy alike her start, mother,
Discovering what to be, rather,
Honesty like her heart, lover,
It beats nobody clever. Until.

Forgive my desires: two stepping.
Your teacup leaking, I laugh still.
Sieve steeping, a living actress,
And to live needing? is this banter?
Definition in short order, leaving.
For give my empires to Stephen,
An idea more Corey than Cancer.
A ballet dancer, but a thick boy,
Holes among left awood with joy,
Man ideal for lawyers and cantors,
For one who teaches is forgotten,
Cotton tarnished in an oily oil.
Royalty royal and parched to often,
His voice softens, off his head,
For I too seek enjoyment, spread.

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

2018-09-27 01:23 pm

Climate I math notes climbing,
Natural knowledge,
Eye Rhyming.
Pass on the peyote piping,
Thy patina, your knife finding,
Kite blue, alike my soul, 
Life in tense, dividing, in two.

A walk in reverse, after marathoning,
Designer clothes given patronizing,
Living Patron, sizing larger.
I'll talk and traverse,
Pasture paragon lifestyle for,
Pluto could not write himself,
Aristocracies would sign lords,
Soule, crabs and seacreatures,
Arrange, kill. 
Labeling features,
Toward no end, untoward wool,
Frayed at the end,
Dog no match for wolf.
Tres bien.

Gord

2018-09-05 06:07 am

They write light of my writing,
Erudite Facebook, liars' rights,
Poetically I am but humble,
Penning comedies of tribe.

Unlike, Unlike, Unlike,
Unlike my peers, I replied.
Despite fears and sighs,
My stride upright, austere.

Alas, long grass, an axe,
Tomorrow fills, fellow actors,
Craft jazzy, played by amateurs,
Demanding average.
Eyes glassy and skills assay,
Alas, follow mass, a bass,
Screaming of typeface, in your face.

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.

Gord

2018-02-28 12:36 pm

Lyric, I write divine,
Chorus determinism.
Mind fine but life grand,
Guitar a work of vine,
For too few seconds,
Then bent to sand.

Humorous religion,
Reception mad alive,
Forewards and artistry,
A life pious. Mine.

Flounder only eaten,
Soul aptly designed.

Father, I write of lions,
But only of your will,
Type defined, candid.

Gord

2017-12-29 12:45 pm

He writes fights, such sadness,
Insult poetry, of life invalid,
Views fantastic, mantelpieces.
Cameras and angles fandangled,
Manic as the fan they turn.

Misunderstandable, as most magic.
Penned plans turn older, forever,
Less recognizable, less clever,
Done before.

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

2017-12-12 10:05 am

Love forward, for house stewards.
His love a bundle, pursuant of son.
Fewer brewers at concourse, concord,
Honor converse, longer yet somber,
An absurd worth, admired, pondered,
Fury for her, imperfection sure.

Heart curious, head immature,
She writes love of commerce,
Hearth huge and wallet wanton.
Charter martyr departs hearted,
Leaves deceived, nature naive,
Silent knitting, fixing, sitting,
Speaking only of a life weaved.