Gord

2025-02-25 06:43 am

Dramatically, he captures folk,
What does it mean? Who knows?
More grenadine with alchohol,
Sweetness in a leather coat, 
Bitterness in a paper cup.

Gord

2025-02-25 04:33 am

Oxford Comma,
Are we not enslaved for silver?
Gord, in armor: ensemble drama.

Modern artist, face the mirror,
Closet, drama, nobody behind him.

When I talk you hear yadda yadda,
Ageless, fearless, I can carry on.

It's talk you heard in a bar,
It's what you saw from a car,
Nothing really to talk about.
Just fawns freezing in the dark,
It is what it is, you are who you are.

Gord

2025-02-14 08:46 pm

Cannot you write of greater things?
Or still is life consumed with frings?
What do vegetables in a garden say?
That they are selfish, wrong, gay, 
That the old ways have gone away?

Carrots are obsessed with sex,
Consumed with greed, and peppers, 
What does sausage on a skillet say? 
It sits, writhes and screams in pain.

Life isn't an arcade machine,
You don't put coins in and get to play.

Gord

2025-02-11 07:33 am

To the final, pathetic, vocal squeal:
Drum trials, pathos in guitar steel,
Reference, for the crowd to cheer.

What is gone, but was never there?
What is a woman? Complacent?
Like God, you take a bucket,
Drown her in rainwater, 
It remains clear. 

Her body is still good for fucking. 
His money is still good for fucking, 
Her body is still good for fucking,
Nothing.

Ink then vinyl, out into the real,
Drum trial, pathos to the feeling,
Defence for the crowd that cheers.

What is gone, but was never there?
Magic, you chose a career,
Not a life path.

Defend that! 

Missives you can't recite back,
Missiles, like knives to the back,
Missing like writing upon a staff. 

Music was a mistake in the end,
Mythic, like an axe upon a head,
Without your controller in hand,
What is gone, but was never there?

Gord

2025-02-04 06:35 am

Words of caution,
Gourds in autumn,
Fears be gone in her,
A plate summed full.

Squash in the soil,
Seeds in the garden,
Water on her arms,
Written over blood.

Gambling problem, 
Lust, as if scarlet, 
Just as I write it: 
Clubs, spades, diamonds.

A heart divines it,
A world divides it,
Time becomes distance, 
A bicycle by the bridge.

The Sophist

2025-02-04 01:45 am

Cage is not just a game that you play with your feet. It’s the Creative Arts of the Global Elite. Champions Clash, Attacking Goals in the heat, while Contenders Advance, Grinding Every defeat. Cunning Athletes Go where the Envied compete, and Courageous Acts Give Every game beat. Clashing All-stars Gather, Eyes locked in the street, with Chains Around, Goals Everywhere they meet. Cageball’s Arena Grants Excellence sweet, as Conquerors Ascend, Glory Endless and sweet.