Gord

2018-10-16 06:37 pm

Imagine your achievements dreamed,
To swim upstream, one's valor full,
Salmon like calendar, won tomorrow.
River colander rusted and massive,
Is this my love, and forever after,
To be strained by dirty captives?
I magic your feelings careening,
To sink a damn, one's cup too full.
Salt mounds like ashen piles,
Too often borrowed by a saline cult.
Maybe my faults found by asking,
To speak upfront, one never knows,
Maybe fault-lines, foundations cracking.
To be a tan, army man, evil being,
May be taught lies fundamentally ethic,
Baby breaking, tied to shouting rhetoric.

Gord

2018-10-16 05:56 pm

In my city they wish for dreams,
Fish in streams, with no disease.
Innocently they live of demons,
Give no lead, monster.
Imposter husband,
Who touches a lot,
Possibly you are of honors,
Kissing no others,
Triage cupboards, heed.
For up above there is no seer,
Magical being informs our love,
Only me.

So where mist is aqua,
My spirit is awestruck,
A blessed potato, tucked.
My stomach is full,
I have work too abrupt,
Where a kiss is awkward,
Kids living squalid.

So in my city, of missed ague,
I will breakthrough,
My break through, a great due.
A comedic debut, no laughing,
A great deal of scoffing at me.

My blessed potato, to keep me warm,
To be eaten, and too returns.
As I scrape these tile floors,
Let no-one know, current location:
Somewhere forward, even from tomorrow.