Gord
2024-03-18 02:36 am
Orange, Black, Orange, Black, The back of my tongue attacks the spoon. Then soon, a numb washes from my palette, More licorice, More orange, More, of that! Tail of my Tiger, flailing limb of a cat, Or mosaic of a war game, excited as that!
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Lynn
2024-01-17 09:24 pm
though it has been so long, i have not forgotten you. i have searched for you among the crowded shelves of bookshops, the cobbled displays of libraries, the take-one-leave-one boxes scattered through town. i have dug deep in my jacket pockets for the notes and coins needed to take you home with me. i have cradled you close to me underneath my coat while i am waiting for the 6:58 bus. i have found you in tulip bulbs peeking above the soul for the sun, late august thunderstorms that pelted our new apartment, the january wind that brings ice and chapped hands. you have made sure your spine stands straighter when i roam through each aisle, saturated and dewey with books. you have pushed the dimes and nickels into my grasping fingers so that we may spend our time together that much quicker. you have squeezed me hard as we step off the bus at 7:34. you have flung yourself through the sky and earth to find me in the smallest of stolen moments. you kiss my hands and my head and flush them rosy with emotion. you have not forgotten me either, it seems.
Mary Steffen
2024-01-02 06:05 am
World of chocolate Many dreams Love
Gord
2023-12-08 05:14 am
The things he knows...
Are alike a hand that speaks in failure:
Painful flails, an esophagus.
While his mouth speaks toward disarmament,
and victims speak of the night.
So all hail the king, his rings and his might.
All the things that he owns,
Including the people as items, options
and things he derides.
So swing a knife, like a sword.
All hail the flailing arm for what it's worth,
Including the people he knows as thoughtforms and cites.
Cayenne pepper, nose.
A world alight.
A world, delight.
A wordly delight.
A world, a light,
Circles dance in the sky,
darkness seen with your eyes.
Alongside carmine, red and feathers:
prose, things they call wise
Gord
2023-11-16 04:57 am
What was I to be? A hive of bees? I see. Time; clouds. Sky; crowns. Cries, foul: "I'm tied down." She said as I vied for relief. Time, dreams, Lies, deceit, "I'm drowning". Pleas, Screams of an ice house, Before it lies in the deep. Now... What am I to be? Composer of songs, Giver of feelings? What is high to a beast? Fire, disease. What is mine. Like piles at the keep, Rivals final meetings, Some spend life on things. I, much like a beast, Divide things in half, Decide, with a hand, rights to be. So, What was I to be? Probably nothing. Feeding my cows, starving, Alike to the sea. Some sing in the choir, Some sit in the seats. Some write, despite reason, Until, like an ice house, They find reasons to leave.
Gord
2023-10-30 05:49 am
Stares across the sheet of ice... Ningen, it lives! My fear subsides, Human eyes, inhuman smile, alive... it's alive! A light, like a flight, is a trial... Neat circles and straight lines! Figures, like a flight, need a pilot, Skies above have no time or pride. A night, like an iron spike, island, Eye's iris, thick thighs or curtness, Always keep a place and purpose. Unlike the Ningen, which flies... Just hopes to last another lifetime, Like longing stares into a glass of rye, Fish in the ocean or the turning tide. What falls from the sky? What god divines? What god provides? What father decided? Despite what he tries, like a Ningen child, Like looks across tables at what he despised. Like a fucking guy who likes to get fucking high, Although he decides, he decides, he decides... His mind often trailed nonsense, then he cried, Like a little baby, Ningen child that he hated inside.
Gord
2023-10-04 04:58 am
They say, love is fair, But then, what for free? Birds and bees, they explain, Saying mostly ends, Giving little means. A friend, dear, a branch, tree. When they speak they talk of weight, Everything they feel. Then they say, live laissez-faire, Paint the walls of red and greens, They hope you speak their language. Incentives and dreams, hopes of things. But what divides boxes and squares, Fishes and streams, them and me? Is it a line or the right to be? Speak freely, breathe freely, Easy, people say it should be, From a mouth that releases, Full of pleased flesh and teeth. But if they had one wish left, It would be for me to never be. Well, that's sweet. But I know what that means, Go ahead, feel your feelings. Just know, there is no you and me.
Gord
2023-09-17 07:37 pm
Was it like this all along? A bird wonders... Like gawkers, ponders what they saw... 'Would you describe me, inside of a bar?' 'Must again, you make things be so hard?' 'Wasp, like I bumble about the pollen, Following a humble belief seems wanton, When you believe in things so violent and wrong.' Bird, quickly describes in simple songs, Big cities, things it saw in the puddle, Colors of war, bees that talk. Freedom, it sings, is also simple, One really needs not drift apart. The big screen, another big scene, It was mostly a facade... Balk, talk is talk, feeling in the dark, But most of what a bird said, lived on, Proper relief is upon the soul after all... So they write less of evil on the walls, In the sky, on maps or village carts. Against nothing, see the days beyond... I suppose those concepts are behind us. Was it like this all along? A bird wonders... Is the city like a swallow, or like to swallow, and will he be the next one gone? Cause for alarm, make calls upon, Anything, but you lost the one. You love... Like a dog watching another sun set, More talk, another sun will rise again, Life for this bird is but more dogs. So like a coward, survives the storm, Shivering as they make their calls. Inevitably, to face the power lines alone.
Gord
2023-08-21 06:17 pm
Like alchemists of emotional chemistry, Heavy silence about various subjects, Talks about how tents in a field, Might impact your freedom. Their beliefs, their decrees, It all has to do with degrees, Then-deceased, legacies, theories, All of which, to them seems real.
Gord
2023-08-13 08:22 pm
'I just wish, with all the time I have left', As she squeezes her fists, laments, Her eyes see ideas she never said, Sadness bookends her existence. She knows what she is, and lies, She thinks she knows what's best, But she is losing her desire for life. I just wish, like all the cows she loves, She would fight and fawn over me for once. The person she sees staring into the sky, It seems she likes, but she rarely sees herself. Mostly other men, me, and occasionally, marquee lights. She thinks it's for the best, I'm sure. The person she reveals herself to be, As the ocean fares, she holds against, My love can only take so many hits, She says, as she sets the table, For two people, but never herself. She says in the end, it's for the best. What happened to the things she liked? She thinks to herself in a flight, Reminded of a dream, desires, Meets someone else and tries. Time is a god of fire, however, So it takes and destroys her, Inside first, then outside. What she does with her life, It's none of my concern, Fans in the crowd fight amongst themselves, Not with players they revere and beheld. I think I know what's best, but in the end, I knew very little of what I said, Even less of the outcomes she had. So, who am I, to wish?
Gord
2023-05-31 09:02 am
Compare deceased, compare diseases, Civil registry, never ending dreams. Quiet, discontented tree: Questions vex me silent, Why do we drink of selfish need? Why do we eat to reddish green? Why do they scream your scaring me, While I achieve new levels of self deceit? It responds, about roots and leaves, Tools and people, fools and fees. It's beyond me to understand. Again indeed. Only man writes with a pen, Ire infinite, to the final syllable. A point most misunderstand: Life is not miracles, appearances, Science fiction or analyzing images, It's mostly the wheres and whens, Indeeds said again, friends you miss. Like all the pyramids get built, You'll find they went brick by brick. Like kids, chimes in the wind, Ideally they play without worry, Not re-examine life endlessly, Like a firing squad that never hits. Like a chime without another, It takes only one to be lonely, Two people to live. Hair recedes, favour leaves, Ferris wheels and screams, Once again, the tree speaks, This time about seasons, Blues and greens, Views and seeds, You open your own mouth, freely, Someone else's dreams. Again indeed. A mirror responds vaguely, Instead of self reflection sees, Things that terrify, Even when they close their eyes and they sleep. One could compare their life to a sheep, Sheppard, or favoured elite. What one eats someone decides, Where one sleeps someone else decides, Who one sees is limited, they cry. But they compare to a bar too high. Then with their time, belies, nevers, freezes. Feelings of timidness, cheapness, lies, Triangles you hope to avoid thinking, Inevitably though you need drink. You need some chips, think about it. You need a horse to ride to the store, Because you're lazy as shit. So I guess just hope for the best, But also go for it. Again, Indeed.
Lynn
2023-05-12 09:46 pm
Dear [insert name of co-worker or supervisor here], It was [insert positive noun or adjective here] to work with you. I always admired your [insert dubiously positive quality here, be snitty or passive-aggressive if you so wish]. My favorite memory here was the time when [insert vaguely positive memory here; if none, insert successful venture here; if none, indicate that there were too many positive memories to choose just one; or if that even feels too disingenuous, skip directly to next paragraph]. I wish you [circle one or more: prosperity / health / joy / all the best]. Sincerely, [sign name here] [remember: be POSITIVE! your time here was WONDERFUL! you gained SO MUCH experience! you made TONS of friends! you leave on GREAT terms! the BEST! ]
Lynn
2023-05-12 09:32 pm
Sitting outside the shop on a cloudy May afternoon, my hand scrawls on the back of a receipt a list of the aspects of myself: - the moles in morse code down the side of my face ($4.99) - the scars on my leg in bumpy braille ($12.76) - the skin covering my knuckles, shining where it has split so many times over ($29.97, sale price) - the soul filled with self-loathing, boiling, bubbling over the rim ($10.19) - my spine, doubled over and bent backward ($17.22, CLEARANCE) - the effort I put into eject all but the smallest parts of myself as a collection of trinkets, an amalgamation of dust bunnies ($0.99) I must have picked these up, absentmindedly, through my time in the shop. Where can I put these back? I didn't want them. Why did I pay for them, pulling out my wallet in a daze? I never knew they existed. I must have entered a girl and left a much older woman. How long was I standing underneath the humming lights? I crumple up the scratch paper and toss it in the bin as the sun waves from the overcast.
Gord
2023-05-08 03:15 am
If I could, I would take my grey for your gray, My grave for your grave, but in the end I will fail. Take my blade and slay your beasts, hero. Even if all you see are beasts and famous people, Not beings from which you take a piece. In fear we never speak, like ancient egypt, People change, things remain the same for me. You aspire for some greater freedom, Perhaps, from up there you can label people, Teach them who should be sold as slaves. Maybe you can take those taken pieces, Build back the things you took from me. Gain more favour and speak loquacious, But gone are the days where you heard me speak, Gone are the days of our walks on the beach, Because even long ago I was but memories. Things have changed, besides the people, Weight and age mostly, But when I see your face, You want an escape, I can see it. A smile that lies on its face, But your heart plain as day. Rather than three hours too soon, One minute late
Gord
2023-04-23 07:53 pm
Once in a lifetime event, Arrives by themself, A winding stare, Polite requests, tired guests, Inside the knife twists. How can I make this about myself? Fits, detest in the form of comments, Regrets, pride, lissome denial, hits. How can I make this about myself? They think, screaming into the abyss, How can I make this about myself? Complaints, debates about nonsense, Speculation about arrangements, Coughing, several games maudlin, Talking about options freely. Providence. The final act, the lion dances, Forgone reactions, lying, Along with crying, antics. They exclaim their passions, As does the crowd. Again they feel the knife twists, As they are thrown to the ground.
Gord
2023-04-12 05:23 am
Birth mother, Are you done in search of justice? From hunger the feeling lingers on, I want to be created equal, in three parts: My heart, my dreams, my thoughts. To stomach decisions these fingers long: How much must one muster? The war is over, the performance over, The opponent is dead and gone. He hears the fear in his voice, Drinks beer, balks, talk circles, Inside he looks awkwardly, Leers like a child at adults. 'Blood eater, what of your cuts? Is your search for freedom done? What is your word for love? Of people, of reason, Like earth, sun, One deserves better treatment, But worries when wonders gone.' Colonel, a third of your country, wrong. Fanciful fawns, thoughts prancing, Warnings: Songs bandied to a swan. Wanting nothing, wanton, famished, Like night always says to the dawn: Our prospects have long vanished. It's more self talk, silence in response, Dancing alone, along to the bombs that drop.
Gord
2023-04-03 02:50 pm
Young men see visions, Old men have dreams, His mind was troubled and he could not sleep. Body smeared in honey, Head to feet, conceit, Meant to be supreme, Yet not even complete. The sea, is free, comparably, Considering the moon, destiny. When you speak, Where you sleep, To others, it matters only where you scream. Meant to be, it's a funny thing, Next movie I hope you're next to me. Wild marjoram, fine novelists, Five dollar words, trite violins, Telling simple lies, promises. Yet when I saw the world, My heart stopped again, Eyes on a third of my providence.
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