Gord
2026-09-30 05:17 am
William fell as his mother wished, No more hugs, from brother Bill, No more love, under auburn hair. Will she find him in drug addiction? She hopes, She will, Upper lip quivers, then under it. Being alone, being different, Feelings like triumph, glory, Joy, will turn to sadness, Succumb to wickedness, Never to be reclaimed. Just like her boy is never coming home again.
0
Gord
2026-07-21 07:28 pm
Whiter upon the mirror face, While rubbed upon, bitter taste, Why, are you so irritated? You will never see them as I see them, Dull, sullen and grey. Wool, spun into braid. What else should I say? I envy everything you have, Even if you gave it away. Writer, upon feeling erase, Like graphite filled veins, I have everything to give, And I can give it away. White, upon the fearing caste, While rubbed upon, bitter taste, Why? The fear of being placated, Like rubber farms treat waste.
Gord
2026-06-05 06:01 pm
In the nicest possible way, I say to you: It's just a cape. It's part of a play, I can't make things magic again... Injected into blood: theatrics. Addiction upon the face, She paces the room, Tolerance and waiting, When does the show begin? When will the feeling stay? In the nicest possible way, I say to you: It's just a cape, It's part of a play, It doesn't make things magic again.
Gord
2025-11-13 10:14 am
Dreamers dreaming dreamscapes. Mealless evening, Weakened breathing, People screaming, The defeated, being replaced. Cover the rear, cover the face, Coveted feeling, converts of race, Circle of fifths, dogma and faith. In the end, who pays? Cathedral ceiling, being replaced.
Gord
2025-07-22 03:10 am
Lettuce beyond where fences meet, Energy drink then vodka or whiskey, Every time, Identity card, receipt. I don't care what it's called, I don't care what it costs, At the end of the song, repeat. Let us be, upon the senses, feeling, Identity play: Sinatra, Springsteen. Every time I vent, it set me free. At the end of the day, I don't care what it's called, I dont care what it costs, In the end, sunsets to dawn, repeat.
Gord
2025-06-06 07:03 am
A chore upon a list of meetings, My feelings mean nothing more... Relationship falls into rondo form, What does she have the condo for? A floor exists beneath a ceiling, My needs mean nothing though. Relationships, and outercourse, A chore upon her list at home, In the sky on the fifteenth floor, A eye, declines to answer the door, She says, goodbye, cries to a score, Why would I? By the by, she never loved me. By the by, why should I? By the by, by the by. By the by, she never loved me. By the by, why should I? By the by, by the by.
Gord
2025-04-08 05:26 am
Easel, muse, what is fate? My eyes no longer meet it, My hands no longer make. Like a glove conceals a ring, Kind words, greater schemes. I must run like we were kids, I love drugs, love the feelings, I love the girl. Sober realism... Stare into the distance, Eventually you see the same, Tomorrow, is a little late
Gord
2025-03-18 06:55 am
Like swans meeting. Teneseee whiskey, Back upon a back, Cocaine and piercings, Neck upon a neck, Feelings, et al. So, I'm not enough after all, Dance halls, dogs and baseball, I guess you know it, et al.
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
2025-01-30 03:49 am
Where does the red end? Bench press, breath test, Desk chair, ceiling fan: You hope to get to live again. Jump rope, feeling breasts, Best friends, sleeping bags. Then into the night, like assent... That's a life you never lived. Town by town, you lay a brick, Build a house, inhale a bit. Where, from does cedar sprout? Far away from shit like this. How are you about playing music? Cedar necks, hands tight around, Beating skin, women. Beans again, Upon a page then: demons, hell. What is a stranger, to a friend? Follower, liar, charlatan, I would never knew, you were never there.
Gord
2024-11-29 05:03 am
Black smoke, campfire grows. Active social life, animal bones, Colder over time, as foretold, Feeling about ears, nose, Nothing, so what more? Vampires, see it all, To know red best, All days spent about the home, Mind a tiresome tempest. I provide solace, Meaning over time changes. Strangers though can too. I provide doctrine, Meaning over time changes, Strangers though will too. Vampires, to coffins, Kisses on the neck, I would draw upon it. Violet, Auburn, Inner strength, Flying monster.
Gord
2024-06-28 06:38 pm
In Her Dreams Everyday she grew more cynical, Forewarned in the way he spoke. 'What makes trees grow? Speaking indignantly? Lazy, form english is what bees know. Maybe there is more, maybe not. Leaves, and lace upon her form, Leers and mistakes on a forum, Leaves and paces about a home. Lady Clare, is this what you wish for? Mais oui, upon meeting, she says, but may we not once she sees him again. She begs, making peace, but, maybe not. What is under the stars, outside of the bar, Yet above us all? In her mind, her. But, actually, God. And he sees her like I see her: Alone by herself, just of her mom. Lo, girl, grate your feet, arms to nothing, Cognizant, you can see what's coming. So, use a word to cut deeper, I mean, Maybe there is more, maybe not... Say please, and release the lions... If a cognate speaks of alm, as always, Bet a fool falls, autumn again, as always, Winter follows. Bees, on their belly, in a playful sense. Wallows about woods and streams. Striped appearance, demeanor, feelings, He exits the scene with grace and dignity. Asking the same, but bees scream, race, As always, it's just the way things be. Swallow a mouth full of eggs, and honey, Forward, fundamentally things are different. Not just you and me, for everyone that sees us. The courts just take up space, mostly useless, And friends never show up to court you, bee, They treat you differently. You are less than me, because you are less than nothing, She says, and places her hands to the sun. Youth burning away at her bloodied stumps, Speaking in fear of a beast that runs, jumps, Eating the bunnies she dreams about...
Gord
2023-11-16 04:57 am
What was I to be? A hive of bees? I see. Time; clouds. Sky; crowns. Cries, foul: "I'm tied down." She said as I vied for relief. Time, dreams, Lies, deceit, "I'm drowning". Pleas, Screams of an ice house, Before it lies in the deep. Now... What am I to be? Composer of songs, Giver of feelings? What is high to a beast? Fire, disease. What is mine. Like piles at the keep, Rivals final meetings, Some spend life on things. I, much like a beast, Divide things in half, Decide, with a hand, rights to be. So, What was I to be? Probably nothing. Feeding my cows, starving, Alike to the sea. Some sing in the choir, Some sit in the seats. Some write, despite reason, Until, like an ice house, They find reasons to leave.
Gord
2023-10-04 04:58 am
They say, love is fair, But then, what for free? Birds and bees, they explain, Saying mostly ends, Giving little means. A friend, dear, a branch, tree. When they speak they talk of weight, Everything they feel. Then they say, live laissez-faire, Paint the walls of red and greens, They hope you speak their language. Incentives and dreams, hopes of things. But what divides boxes and squares, Fishes and streams, them and me? Is it a line or the right to be? Speak freely, breathe freely, Easy, people say it should be, From a mouth that releases, Full of pleased flesh and teeth. But if they had one wish left, It would be for me to never be. Well, that's sweet. But I know what that means, Go ahead, feel your feelings. Just know, there is no you and me.
Gord
2023-09-17 07:37 pm
Was it like this all along? A bird wonders... Like gawkers, ponders what they saw... 'Would you describe me, inside of a bar?' 'Must again, you make things be so hard?' 'Wasp, like I bumble about the pollen, Following a humble belief seems wanton, When you believe in things so violent and wrong.' Bird, quickly describes in simple songs, Big cities, things it saw in the puddle, Colors of war, bees that talk. Freedom, it sings, is also simple, One really needs not drift apart. The big screen, another big scene, It was mostly a facade... Balk, talk is talk, feeling in the dark, But most of what a bird said, lived on, Proper relief is upon the soul after all... So they write less of evil on the walls, In the sky, on maps or village carts. Against nothing, see the days beyond... I suppose those concepts are behind us. Was it like this all along? A bird wonders... Is the city like a swallow, or like to swallow, and will he be the next one gone? Cause for alarm, make calls upon, Anything, but you lost the one. You love... Like a dog watching another sun set, More talk, another sun will rise again, Life for this bird is but more dogs. So like a coward, survives the storm, Shivering as they make their calls. Inevitably, to face the power lines alone.
Gord
2023-05-31 09:02 am
Compare deceased, compare diseases, Civil registry, never ending dreams. Quiet, discontented tree: Questions vex me silent, Why do we drink of selfish need? Why do we eat to reddish green? Why do they scream your scaring me, While I achieve new levels of self deceit? It responds, about roots and leaves, Tools and people, fools and fees. It's beyond me to understand. Again indeed. Only man writes with a pen, Ire infinite, to the final syllable. A point most misunderstand: Life is not miracles, appearances, Science fiction or analyzing images, It's mostly the wheres and whens, Indeeds said again, friends you miss. Like all the pyramids get built, You'll find they went brick by brick. Like kids, chimes in the wind, Ideally they play without worry, Not re-examine life endlessly, Like a firing squad that never hits. Like a chime without another, It takes only one to be lonely, Two people to live. Hair recedes, favour leaves, Ferris wheels and screams, Once again, the tree speaks, This time about seasons, Blues and greens, Views and seeds, You open your own mouth, freely, Someone else's dreams. Again indeed. A mirror responds vaguely, Instead of self reflection sees, Things that terrify, Even when they close their eyes and they sleep. One could compare their life to a sheep, Sheppard, or favoured elite. What one eats someone decides, Where one sleeps someone else decides, Who one sees is limited, they cry. But they compare to a bar too high. Then with their time, belies, nevers, freezes. Feelings of timidness, cheapness, lies, Triangles you hope to avoid thinking, Inevitably though you need drink. You need some chips, think about it. You need a horse to ride to the store, Because you're lazy as shit. So I guess just hope for the best, But also go for it. Again, Indeed.
Gord
2023-04-12 05:23 am
Birth mother, Are you done in search of justice? From hunger the feeling lingers on, I want to be created equal, in three parts: My heart, my dreams, my thoughts. To stomach decisions these fingers long: How much must one muster? The war is over, the performance over, The opponent is dead and gone. He hears the fear in his voice, Drinks beer, balks, talk circles, Inside he looks awkwardly, Leers like a child at adults. 'Blood eater, what of your cuts? Is your search for freedom done? What is your word for love? Of people, of reason, Like earth, sun, One deserves better treatment, But worries when wonders gone.' Colonel, a third of your country, wrong. Fanciful fawns, thoughts prancing, Warnings: Songs bandied to a swan. Wanting nothing, wanton, famished, Like night always says to the dawn: Our prospects have long vanished. It's more self talk, silence in response, Dancing alone, along to the bombs that drop.
Gord
2022-12-22 03:17 am
Trying to break free, like a caterpillar. The feeling is of great joy and relief, Like a child being born, finally feels. Acronyms describe the experience, He became, "I", in the moment, Realized, in his essence, Idyllic, His dreaming was all he was. Heart curls into a ball, Wraps himself in yarn, Forgets the thoughts that haunt him, It doesnt solve wants or give cause, But he explodes in vivid color, Looking like an inexpensive car, He flies fast to escape the closing walls.
\/