Gord

2019-01-15 03:31 pm

They ask for more free verse,
Ironically I ask for freedom.

Turn yourself, the sun faces west,
Learn your self looking into distance,
A poem of story, rhetoric important.
He just tells of lions and beasts,
Ire and deceit, lies succinct,
Are my poems of heart not complete,
Even if truth is too foolish to be?

Future hard to see, a pence to me, 
Fences mended where darkness meet,
A dense man where the larkin leap,
Without them where would we be?
A garbage heap, a fence two feet,
A garbage pile, a fence of three,
A garbage life, spend barking of time,
Not mine but others, I covet.
My duvet stained with oil, lovely,
When was it worth more, white forlorn
Or in a pile on the floor disgusting?

Gord

2019-01-11 06:34 am

A Barrie kid grows,
A ferry, stone's throw,
Parry sound, Toronto,
Pound it out, big smoke.

This season I'll move downtown,
City planners dictate high spots,
How? Do they sell drugs now?
They only make dumps, dry drops,
Build highways on your houses,
Hope the best for us.

Eyes water, why bother?
Save yourself a level of honor,
Tomorrow it will be your brother.

Gord

2019-01-10 07:14 am

Open prose with my dignity,
I am simple, Iambs, imagery,
Trying to oven toast,
With my sympathy lost.

I hope for you another loss,
Scotch socials, often postures,
Costumes oft. 
Walls filled with posters,
To wish you, where I was,
As if my feelings forgotten.

Open hose of complacency,
Teach me your giving ways,
Leach lead onto my face,
My children's faces,
My foodstuff casings.
Tell me of today:
"I Take not, responsibility.
Taste, not digestibility, 
My style succinct,
My rubber hole,
Leaves rubber taste."

Gord

2019-01-09 12:52 pm

I write without notes,
No goblins, or hope,
Aftermath nonsense. So?

I write long-form cribs,
Despite shotguns, dibs,
Despite skunks glibs:
Seven, Eight. 
Eight, Nine.
Just in time, coughing:
"Forgive my hands,
I am pandering, but
All I wish is to climb,
My trip divine,
My lips atwine, 
Would you be so suited,
Had I not arrived?"

In the middle, my tie mismatches,
Patchwork outfits, simple acids.
Dissolve an owners possessions,
Would ten not ask, where are my people,
Clothes and houses?
I would think at last, and note it,
Seven ate nine hungry and homeless,
To not play such a hand, preposterous.
By standards awful and longing,
With numbers staging off-brands.