September 11 Archive

2020

Gord

2020-09-11 05:58 am

Drinking Bowls and pitchers,
like smoking coals and timber;
If only bones could lift,
Our home, save the children,
Even buried having all gold and silver,
Can an afterlife supply of groves and vineyards?

Old and crippled, mouth of the old man dribbles,
His eyes meet to eventually form a river;
How can he romance with trombones and singers, 
When he sees and himself, groans and withers, 
Lays down again amongst the toads and lizards;
Eyes hollow and wrinkled, bathrobe, slippers,
Windows, the stones that hit them, now coal,
Used to build all the roads and bridges.

2018

Gord

2018-09-11 01:30 pm

Pour courvoisier, coke, smoke weed.
For core voices toking loke green:
Cork d’or choice, spoke woke meaning,
Joke broke gleaming,
Boast goat dreaming,
Invoke oak healing,
Poke coded readings, or cook mud.
Saying I wouldn’t eat if off the bud,
Gimme a fucking break, dawg you would.
So form apostrophes, hoax followers,
Dominate dossiers bespoke by leads.
Chorus needy, broadway job, police:
Honest lobbyist leaps, not,
Calling policy preacher law,
Homely Claudius fears god,
Homer justice, and beating his chest raw.
Former lover, for I see you as bourgeois,
Fleecing people of their heart and minds,
Champion blind, one eye is all but lost, 
Camping, body weak of fighting for causes,
In causeways, his cautious mind pines,
Cheesing through life, eating off rind,
Leave, dodge, dive,
Breed, scoff, lie,
Edict goes like:
What is life? Four courses, hope, feeling?
Of course there’s more, but more redeeming?
He simply says: I’ve not found thy.