Gord

2025-01-30 03:50 am

Remember that night, when you came out as gay?
Well I remember you saying you victimize women,
Saying your ex girlfriend's pussy stinks,
Knowing we might be a common friend.

Not that you care, it's not about yourself,
That's why you have domestic violence charges,
That's why you have domestic violence charges,
That's why you will hang yourself in a closet.

Remember, when you talk to me, you talk to an artist,
Remember that night, you talked to me hostile?
Well I remember that every time I saw you,
Saying your ex girlfriend's pussy stinks,
Knowing we might have common friends,
Knowing this is something I'm going to address,
Not that you care, it's not about yourself.

Gord

2021-05-14 04:19 am

If one could fly away,
Where could you go,
Besides the sky to stay?

If one could bike,
Cycle into the skyline,
Left foot fine, 
Right foot aligned,
Thoughts fill my mind,
The blind can read it.

When you were fine,
and I took the time,
When you were mine,
I looked life away.
When you're five,
You say goodnight,
and you hope the same,
for your final days.

When you lie awake,
Were the choices you made right:
My private plane,
My rightful place?
My silent rage.
She says you're mine,
To another guy, 
Would I mind?
I mean, I made no complaint.

Gord

2020-09-16 02:35 am

By tribal elders,
Despite wire fences, 
Highest pleasure, 
By mine forever;

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.

Gord

2020-07-21 05:28 pm

A voice brittle, fawning,
Lost in eyes are appearance,
Yet words speak like songbirds,
Though simple, like acrostics.

If you can understand the point,
Does also your voice hurt,
 from screaming?
Do you need more caustic ideas,
 to dissolve your dreams?

My meaning, yours,
Our meeting curt, 
Can I find you feeding on lifeless birch,
With food superior for a life of wood?
Who fights against fascist sons,
Racist daughters to which they sum?
Who resolves just to be,
Sits aside until the burning stops.

What is beauty in a psalm?
Without the son, the daughter,
Is the sport lost?
Where the ice is more soft,
A cross stick, a want,
Whistle wanton, a decision.
To sit in a box, with conscious,
Or a sideline life to correspond
With your winnings.

Gord

2020-07-09 03:52 am

Tomorrow trailing, no erasers,
Maybe no stress can reach relief,
Papers, their lies and keys,
Power is in just eyes to see;
One hand hold, one hand to reach,
Narrow is escape, is this fate,
Or feeling?

Do arrows fly away, misguided,
Awry in their aerial affairs,
Fore bearer blameless in errand;
For barrels makeshift of nothing,
What is the price of a country?

Gord

2020-07-02 03:19 am

Pier as far as the eyes can peer,
Towers tall, the flowers gone,
Pensioner, is this not your fear?
Who appears, speaks of appearances,
When death is near and cowers all?

Seer, as far as I can see,
Nobody writes, nobody listens,
Nobody lies but nobody stares.
Nobody rights are given to liars,
Who speak of bridges nobody cares.

Who appears, speaks of appearances,
When bridges fall to the pier?

Who maintains the system?
I can see names of victims,
Name of my liquor,
But no list of gunmen,
Lenders or kinsmen.
If one day they name a killer,
Who appears, speaks of appearances,
Circles all around the seriousness.
Waits for nobodies to leave,
Then steals, Who babbles incoherent?

Gord

2020-06-15 03:16 am

Do thickets see steeples,
or are people the thickets?
If writers are thick headed,
Writing of Peter Pans' pigs,
Who visits?

Bull, riches, seer, man,
Write a list upon my hand,
So that my plot, it thickens.
What is time spent living:
Divine or perspective driven?

Plate spinner, of your illusion,
Place your spins upon their back.
Bull, chickens, and feelings lack,
Who takes from hands of other hen?
Who take the hands of other hen,
Who take the land of wary men,
Who lost to men,
More suspicious then.
What is it all about:
Defense, or Pence,
To what extent do I extend,
What is strength?

Gord

2020-06-11 05:50 am

The bar too low,
A life in limbo.
Civil man elicit,
Dance too rigid.
Cancer, victim, 
Lance too frigid.

Is life another rhyme?
Saved for another time,
or just a bunch of lies?

Head and shoulders,
Knees and hipbones.
But does god see soles,
Planted into the beach?
How does god see souls,
Managed funds and stealing?
While reaching into homes, to take his piece?
A plastic man, made for shelves,
Laughs filling his fantastic needs. 

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.

Gord

2018-04-12 05:46 am

His life a vine, with walls to climb,
A sign of reeds, tall as the ceiling.
It reads: peace on earth, healing.

He easily remarks, needing, tired,
With nobodies hiring he sings songs.
Shouts at the crowd pink psalms, skimmed,
Thinking along, forward and onward;
Successor non, foreign legion stalwart.

His heart a fire, with walls to climb,
Passions fleeting, of paint peeling,
With art to desire, of maxims meeting.

Of dirt green, or fences mended,
Grudge son's, however defenseless.

Gord

2018-03-02 07:08 am

She lives for tomorrow, folding;
Sight static, fight fantastic.
Not matters you, me, or belief,
Our forevers spent grieving,
but of a might, life traveled.
Snapping, chatting of pictures,
Scared of the aperture, focus,
Not the fools and hocus pocus.

Yang sits riverside singing,
What a life quaint, dyed.
Painting faint inner lies,
Things remissed never vied,
Another sister left behind,
Another brother lost to time,
Benefactor earth,
Loss to files, binaries,
Tyrannies, buying, surprises.
Redacted is worth,
Prose, everything vibrant.
Observers know of likeness,
Sequel to the Mona Lisa,
Pious only to feeling.

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

2018-02-13 01:49 pm

Birds flying apart,
They desire not;
To be of is,
Someone begotten;
New to art,
Liar at port,
of port, drinking port,
Thinking unimportant.

Gord

2016-09-08 12:00 am

I would probably just tell her, I miss you,
and let her know I still think about her. 
I would probably let her know, 
that I was doing much better and thank her,
for the strong advice she gave me years ago,
and I would let her know it helped me grow.

Gord

2015-12-31 12:00 am

He asks why do all the good men die?
He watches her eyes as the tears well up,
and they both just cry.
Through the wristwatches he loses time,
Ignorant to buyer's market.
Ignorant to the sacred time,
To save the come ons for another line.