The Sophist

2014-07-03 12:00 am

Another victory means I'm undone,
Wars are lost where battles won,
I can no longer fight with spirits dead,
The bards asleep, the songs are done.

Pyrrhus produced a record for fun,
Ruined industry in one fell swoop,
Breaking critics' thumbs,
Sounds of cyanide group hit number one.

Perhaps best to join the opposition,
For fear that death becomes my own position,
My army met attrition,
Attrition proved a worthy foe.

But if they come, I must not go,
For I doth know, sky hide not sun,
Nor drums, moon, cloud or snow.
I'll shine bright 'til my gallows strung,
I saved the Kingdom; 
Now I'm scum.

Gord

2014-07-03 12:00 am

Cardinals, Priests,
Meadows of patients waiting.
Gold Dinar, feasts,
Falsettos of passion singing.
Bringing ashen feet,
Bellows and deep reservoirs.
Nothing but temptation,
Fleeting hearts, mellow minded followers.
Cheering on, like stallions they broke us.
Ignorant engulfed in a field of locust.

Gord

2014-07-03 12:00 am

Soul searching, to quench my thirst.
Burning coal. Dense smoke. Smouldering.
Yearning whence, we control the hearse.
Returning self-control and sense,
Only to those left shouldering.
Soul surviving artist dreampt the worst:
All of my love to her,
All of her love in return.
All for I have yearned.
Once dreams do I now incur,
Nightmares embraced with au revoir,
Left to die without concern.
Simply to never again be reborn.
Chorus Sings.

Gord

2014-06-30 12:00 am

So abruptly that it caused me to stumble.
The words of the mother, 
The pastor defends.
Im so ugly,
When I asked if my mom loved me,
She said:
Let's just be friends.

The Sophist

2014-06-30 12:00 am

I advise,
20 some-odd years of life,
To adhere,
To live for four more years,
And the reason to live for;
Four more years.

Do I love you?
I refuse to answer,
So the answer's no,
I walk home heart-broke,
Coat-less in the cold,
A propos of the wet snow.

Carving names in cave walls with a bone,
I plan a life before me in stone,
Four more years for us all,
And if the fall doth happen,
Four more years for us all,

I rise,
Rags to riches and homeless again,
No fear,
In the four year plan.
I devise,
To never be homeless again,
My reason to live for;
My own device.

If you want to run,
I will take you there,
Somewhere beautiful,
Eclipses everywhere,
Full-on inscrutable,
Just live for four more years.

The Sophist

2014-06-27 12:00 am

If this be in 'plaint,
Let it slap the taint,
My GAD spooks the best in the medical
 community,
Gadzooks, 
If I were a saint,
I'd be the saint of head cases with no
 cure or immunity,
Let loose,
No 5150 in the Land of Impunity.

Gord

2014-06-26 12:00 am

I return nothing, 
In return to cost.
I posture a nomenclature,
Fecal mouth needs an orthodontist.

The Sophist

2014-06-25 12:00 am

I swing about a bauble,
I scream about all belief,
And claim it to be fallible,
I run to where the light doth scramble,
To a place where all the truths are false,
And dreams are able, and soar about my bauble,
Radiant light of torch-lit dragon stables,
I sing in fable, and swing about my bauble,
All the dragons burnt alive by gas,
Spilled off tables knocked and set alight.
The old king has no ace to punish strike,
Now that dragons are not able to end life.
A workforce overthrows the king unable to know why,
A mutiny by accident with baubles as our knives.

The Sophist

2014-06-25 12:00 am

It all seems fine, but in the contents of Hell,
In the contents of Hell we find ourselves,
In these confines, context reveals,
It all seems fine, take no notice of flaming steel.
False conflicts too real, long to be alone teenaged.
Reconciliation unreal, plans set and are sealed locked.
Fools say both true and false can be nice,
Consistent and lacking of.

Gord

2014-06-25 12:00 am

It gets better, not in the context of health, 
In the context of health we need some help.
In this complex, contents are sealed. 
It gets better, complicated of locks of steel
Cause continents to kneel, or to be a lone teammate.
Re-invigoration repeal, cancelled and revealed false.
Truth of anything else would be nice,
Instead of the lack thereof.

Gord

2014-06-24 12:00 am

Founded in response to clamor,
A missive written by cowards.
I found it couldn't be read aloud,
Without the sound of laughter.
I also found it dismissive,
Critical issues are clear.
An attack on my character,
Expound from the rear.
I respond with kisses,
The critical issue is context.
So it appears, they fear progress.
They fear a progression of issues,
So it appears, they clearly want this.

The Sophist

2014-06-24 12:00 am

They told me to love not,
Or so the way it seems,
Now everyone loves but me,
Critics embraced, 
Mystics fought,
Sweet love to never be,
A conversation over tea,
Medusian eyes stoned, 
My forearms to my knees,
Huddled, statued, 'splayed in local park,
Monument to those cold and alone,
Monument of a man without a heart.

Gord

2014-06-20 12:00 am

Truant of answers they ask questions.
How dare you darken a world?
How can you blacken a pearl?
Life lessons and cheap metaphors.
By having sex with your girl,
After her father finished with her.

The Sophist

2014-06-19 12:00 am

Oy Vey,
A Mogwai of a brain,
Nibbled after midnight,
Now unable to maintain.

They say,
We can move to Hogewey,
We can spend time doing nothing,
We can piss away our days.

The Sophist

2014-06-18 12:00 am

Abeyant for the fall of man,
Obeyant utilitarian,
To be killed by robot tanks,
Brought to life and killed again.

To turn the world into a sun,
Instead I'll long to own the moon,
No muse but she, the only one,
Her darkness tears my skin of gloom.

Bottled pride,
A drunk misuse,
Beauty whore'd out to the masses,
All could be in bliss without,
Fragile multitudes,
No doubt, 
My love is better glass-less.

The Sophist

2014-06-17 12:00 am

Youth dreamed a smiling father, 
Age and wisdom despise it,
Youth aimed at trying faltered, 
Where misfortune is a muse, 
Poor ol' fortune is abused.

Handed off and thrown away,
Opulence burnt dead thrones,
Meaning in our days are found,
Amongst marginalia on headstones.

Gord

2014-06-16 12:00 am

Those with arsenic bedfellows, exposed.
Due to the TV show they gained exposure.
Closure to a chapter of chaos and rapture.
Posturing to a new hope, classically,
In hope that he masters poseur culture²;
How dramatically he captures folk,
Beards sip wine in¹ balcony of their brother.
It's the framework of laughter;
Silently I laugh as they excuse them both³,
Rendering their will less valid, excusing oath;
Adopting a framework of passtimes,
Instead of finding, lying among those guilty,
Chastising the filthy for soiled torn clothing.
Discarding carelessly the heart of an oak,
Instead of seeding they favour blind hope;
Sans man, would the trees still grow?
Forlorn will animals flourish?
The hands of man conceive the future, though,
Often he lacks the means to nourish.
The man will scream of price of grain, though,
Often he just lacks the means for omnipotence.

Footnotes:
1. latin for 'on the'
2. i.e. hipsters
3. unnecessary explanations given

The Sophist

2014-06-13 12:00 am

All life delenda est¹,
Heterogeneous minds develop post-deletion,
War, Children, it's just a shot away,
Rape; a murderous arrest.
All life lived best,
Mental quest yearning soul completion.
War, Children, it's just a shot away,
This is only a test.

Footnotes:
1. delenda est latin for 'to be destroyed'.