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Kody

2020-02-20 06:33 am
Plastic bags to carry
Milk in plastic jugs
Plastic bags of cherries
Plastic plates with plastic cups

Milk in plastic jugs
From a plastic bin
Plastic plates with plastic cups
No plastic bags to put them in

From a plastic bin
Groceries with no papoose
No plastic bags to put them in
Markets say it's bad to use

Groceries with no papoose
So we can heal the prairies
Markets say it's bad to us
Plastic bags to carry

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Kody

2020-02-19 09:42 am
Bin thinking all night
Which goes outside
Bin worried of bin left out
Too much trash inside my house

Do neighbors above jest?
When no one bin in flight
Do the angels laugh at our distress?
Despite a sky with all yards in sight

In desserts I have bin
Now I know which truck rolls in
Now my neighbors learn from me
My bin is full of trash and now
Peace


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Gord

2020-02-13 04:33 am
Who was I to write down?
Key turns loud, however,
The key turns around.
Free me of my bounds,
I can free you of yours,
My art, part astounding,
Mostly aster pounding,
Hoping for brighter pink.

Who am I to press down?
Pestle grinds slow,
A Mind grinds slower,
Eventual beach polluted,
The key turns around, 
It says:
"Free me of these clownfish,
acting clownish and catfish.
Art is only partly a mish,
Mostly is unequalled feeling."
His art, part niche,
Part for seating,
Parts for kings, rich,
Parts for heathens.
Parts to reason other parts,
Written partly to see them.

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Gord

2020-02-12 07:31 am
However you write your novel,
Heroes with their giants toppled, 
Macabre, of work with shovels,
Endeavors for Turk or Zionism.
Write of your heart problems,
Can they be solved, by starch and auburn?
Your not in danger,
Neither is your offspring.

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Gord

2020-02-04 02:02 pm
What can be said of a murderer?
That he murdered? Who says?
Is he a murderer himself?
What can be said of a mayor,
That he favours? Who says,
Probably the favoured themselves.

So what can be said?
Of purchases and retreats,
Of those who sit in seats,
Simply judging those without.
What can be said,
Is it they are not discrete,
Prejudice lacking feeling.

So forge me a document,
Implore me to destroy it.
For it contains denouement,
If destiny is to employ it,
It will be my dog to walk.

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Gord

2020-01-31 06:42 am
You decide policy valid, 
I speak my minds eye,
Ballad, Badland or Ballet. 

Poet's poet, is the port a port?
Is a court a'court? 
A beer is a beer everywhere in the world,
The port stays the same side of the boat, 
Afloat a float, 
Giants snort and stay the same size, 
Slay the same flies,
Lame in their reprise,
And their coats too short. 

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Gord

2020-01-30 08:02 am
A trial by nonsense, to no ends,
Sweet Rolland, give me your hand,
Give me your head,
On my shoulders rests another mans.

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Poetry Terms

2020-01-27 07:36 pm
Honey Bunny, oh honey bunny, you are sweet as honey. You make my toes curl with your kisses. You make my heart melt each time you look at me. My, oh my, how did I ever get so lucky?

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Poetry Terms

2020-01-27 07:32 pm
Before you my heart was empty. When you came into my life, my heart became full with your smile, your life, your sense of humor. Man, you know how to make my knees tremor. You are the reason my heart smiles.

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Gord

2020-01-24 07:18 am
She says with her eyes: I am gone,
Evil days begone though.
Friday I am home,
Peace be with you, they say some words;
"Does a partridge purr?
Does a catalogue write itself?"
Words themselves can be like a cone,
Until one meanders about the dwelling.
Lonely girl, what do I know?
Is not the world yours to sell?
Would Lucky keep a sword or bow?
Would she emblazon her chest,
With Lions, giants, family crests,
Sayings of young exuberance,
No room for the later lessons.
Spear and shield,
All you need is God's help,
Divine wealth, stature,
Time and a long winter,
Along those lines,
I feel you'll get better.
No sous vide or fried Kelp.

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Gord

2020-01-14 04:33 am
Power, in the form of a word,
Flowers in the form of the world,
Cowards, in the form of the word,
Towers of form, of the world,
Yet so far from dirt,
So says the eyes:
If one wrote a novel,
Bible or implied shorthand,
It would be in favour,
Such is the land.

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Gord

2020-01-06 06:44 am
Idle never boasts love,
Just passing number lines,
One double double four;
Pass grapes divine tor,
More sunlit they bore;
Pi simple, three point one,
Four.

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Regnam

2020-01-05 03:16 am
Winter seemed to never end,
I was standing in the rain.
What is dead will rise again,
to be lost to another raw cycle.
We were dreamt up bare in the frigid cold,
with only tears to shed.
We were pale bodied lips tinted red, 
patiently standing by for seasons end.

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Gord

2019-12-30 06:56 am
Does one write music, 
Tunes or conclusions,
When tongued foolish?
Could God write a poem,
So deep and wholesome
 he could not read,
Without tears in tandem?
Feet so sore-stung,
Like a horse in the open,
 he would forever run,
Chasing free of freedom,
At best, to never love.

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Gord

2019-12-12 05:32 am
Write your life, line by line,
From post to post, time in finite, 
Decide.
Vibration is not entirety,
Leave flying to the pilot,
Masons, vocational thieves.
Applause,
Songs written of concepts,
Concert to the rest, nonsense.
Only to soothe the soul,
One forgives and consoles,
Otherwise the wise have but knowledge,
Lies are all but college,
Which behold, 
Yet deny all the garbage they bestow.

Take your hits, pipe by pipe,
From fist to fist, time is final,
Less vital due to all your fighting.

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Gord

2019-12-03 01:34 pm
Like a hurt cardinal, bandaged,
Perhaps again it flies perverse,
Perhaps times himself per verse,
Per second, per lurch, per word;
Managing his time it finds a perch,
Challenging himself, flies the world;
Flies and bugs no more,
Pecking the spine it eats a horse,
Like a fuhrer pardoned, seminal, 
Perhaps one finds it not so curt,
Curtsies, words lies, Lord survives.
"I would make gentle return,
Messiah of none, I arrive,
Time to waste no more."
It hears but fury, speaks short,
"Perhaps past such things were worse,
Such meaning in verses,
Supple leanings of wings of worry,
Speckled and shiny this rock is yours"

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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.

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