Gord

2014-09-04 12:00 am

No void ever felt more like home.
No survivor of the pipe ever wrote,
So white stars filled the sky often,
Orchestrating slightly bizarre concepts,
On equally bizarre table of conception.

Gord

2014-03-25 12:00 am

I don't care anymore;
If my wife carried a baby,
It would be a whore,
Pushing a whore out of her,
I'm an amateur poet.