The Sophist
2016-02-22 12:00 am
The Sophist speaks of years forlorn. Breathing in the ears of corn. "What mercy does a savage make? What pity do the foolish take? They take one step, and nothing more." The Sophist speaks of emeralds. So green and dope for sure. So dope! So dope, Oh, And Green! For sure... Found but lost before, Lost for all eternity, Now He's found for sure. The Sophist still confused by waves, Playing seashells on the shore. Scarcely eats, Softly prays, The Sophist sings in uniform.
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Gord
2016-02-19 12:00 am
Today is but a fragile future, Flying high above our own wisdom, Too humble to nurture our own lambs, Ouroborous of the past come from within. We would smile upon our cattle truth, Passing as the horses coming through. Alexander of the trade has gone forever, Accordingly should we also become nothing? It seems apt for our most static people. Hopefully to procure funds for a sequel.
Novina Alfe
2016-02-16 12:00 am
Is it just enough to look at the roughness of your hands do you ponder over the texture complexion and remember how each scar got there do you take the time to examine who they loved and who they hate WHO tears they wiped away and on whose face I know you look at them often do you use them just to pray or used them to play with your prey amen do you use them to take pictures of the Sun when it rise do you use them to heal hearts or just leave marks on degraded body parts your hands your hands do you keep them clean have they shed innocent blood have they robbed the lowly one have they said hello thank you and please is the look of toughness just a disguise a way to fool people who sympathize with their eyes your hands your hands do you use them just to eat do they feed the needy do they try to make peace do you praise them for a job well done do you use them to raise a good son surely you let them rest after you just bust one and by bust I mean nutt and by nutt I mean there's nothing new under the Sun so how do you plead guilty or innocent Mr mirror man do you have killing or healing hands
Rebecca Cherrington
2016-02-15 12:00 am
His beauty is beyond compare His powerful stance and hypnotic stare! His orange and black exterior Makes all other species look inferior He stalks his prey with majestic grace The concentration on his expressive face! A beautiful animal from head to tail tip But undeniable power in his vice like grip The unofficial King of cats That poachers kill to make fancy mats His beautiful tiger should be left alone Maybe in another time zone! (C) RCherrington
Gord
2016-02-02 12:00 am
The mired child, spoiled Mildly retarded by choice. Spends his days locked inside. Wishing wildly of days gone by, Punching the god of his desire, Cursing the men of his design. A life not spent fighting, as it appears to the self. Shuffled between arenas, Destined for the cell.
Gord
2016-02-02 12:00 am
Sun shining, Days simply spend inside, Producing music, mp3 and wav files, Meanwhile I see my Aunt smiles, Her son shining shoes up in a crack house. I'm pretty sure she's looking for my 26 thou, So i ask her in the heat of the night. 'Tell me, How does the world look so bright, through dirty sheets and a black gown?' She replies down.
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