The Sophist

2014-03-21 12:00 am

Hermetic Hymns fill his head, 
Unwell-read, 
Thoughts in pericope, 
Polemically said.

Honesty overdue, 
If I'll ever be great, 
I'll have learned some things too, 
To Hell with the Ganges, 
My mind bathes in You.
The Steerageway,
Poetically Youth,
Polemically True.

The Sophist

2014-03-19 12:00 am

Hermes carries Lamb,
Across his shoulders,
Across timeless sands,
More he travels;
Still more land.

Crying out in hope,
Kriophoros left his home,
Carried Lamb eyes to our souls.
Mighty messenger of Gods,
Of all the Heavens and Below.

Calamis never same again,
Good Sheppard waits for Lamb,
Prepared to spill blood,
For the better of the herd,
For the chance to understand,
The voice of the Absurd.

Gord

2014-03-18 12:00 am

I pause for an applause, but silence fills the room's divide;
They don't like my lines? Well I'm the new pasty wino,
I came here to expound how I... then I left the game to die;
Like the game did to me with crack cocaine,
Which it turns out I like;
You'll niggas don't even smoke crack, viper provides.

Gord

2014-03-14 12:00 am

Some live like Musical Elite, in a mansion on a hill of beans,
Never to please us with another music piece of relevant release;
Nickel and dime me for the deluxe CD, the pre-order must-see,
the live dvd, 
the artwork book, 
the signed poster in blue, red and green;
I doubt I'll buy all that to hear 'Compositions in C',

Gord

2014-03-14 12:00 am

Such teeth, Such face,
Over the hills of red,
Ugly white horses run.

Dusti Rodes

2014-03-13 12:00 am

From 'MOONSTONE'

 (Prelude.)

 I have a secret.
 I am the last of my race.

 We existed in peace and harmony,
 For many eons of millennia.

 Even before the first formation
 Of the Order of Jedi Knights.

 Then the Emperor ordered
 The testing of the Death Star.

 The rest is history......

The Sophist

2014-03-12 12:00 am

Seek introspection elsewhere.
I'm here to burn my hands on incense smoke,
Telling God stories of my trysts,
Of all the times he missed.
To a world I doubt is there
I'm yelling my plans to an absent bloke,
telling God stories of my dick,
Of all the dames I dream it chokes.
Vocals crack on air,
The priest is watching alone.
I stare the beast in his eyes,
and keep yelling despite.
I draw a circle, a square,
Triangle, circle, and begin to invoke,
Two homunculi inside,
The smallest circle defined.
Behold, contrast and compare,
Presenting the Philosophers Stoned,
Their knowledge is blinded,
And wisdom unwound.
Priest still watching me stare,
I rub ash on my forehead and go,
To the front of the alter,
No foot dare to falter,
I scream and still nobody's there.

<img src="https://www.aspoet.com/src/img/avatars/philosopherstone.gif" height=300 width=300></img>

Dusti Rodes

2014-03-12 12:00 am

Bluesman.

He was jist sat there.
Strummin' away.
Softly.

Striking vacant chords.
Filled full
Of notes.
In various hues
Of the Blues.

Dusti Rodes

2014-03-12 12:00 am

NOT ALL ANGELS NECESSARILY 
WEAR THEIR WINGS AT ALL TIMES

Silly things.

What does your lipstick taste like?
How does it feel to kiss those luscious lips?

What would it mean to hold you in my arms,
And have yours in mine?

How will it feel to have our bodies entwined?

You have released pent-up passion,
That I had almost forgotten.

You have placed me on a pedestal so high,
The fall seems so far down.

I hope that my angel wings still work,
As I haven't had to use them
For such a long time.

The Sophist

2014-03-07 12:00 am

Death of Cupid strewn loose,
And the putrid excuse;
Stupidness youthed in the ruin of Use.
Abstracted views abstracting rapid abstract logic,
Abstracted the Truth;
Abstractly vapid and loose.
And so now I live recluse.
I used 'abstract' too much,
And killed Cupid via noose.
I have a pact,
I tattered and abused, 
I packed and hid, scattered in the spruce.
I hate all I come in contact with.
I hate to introduce.
I hate you all like my old friends.
You all act too recluse.

Gord

2014-03-07 12:00 am

Teach me to breathe again,
Teach me to fish among the bears;
Until boars bearing teeth sheath their wares,
and thus keep secret to themselves, cares;

I care naught, to teach me, teach me not;
Those that let me rot gave me teeth;
and then taught me of freedom through proxy;
Thus keep secrets to yourself, forget them not;

In age I will not be forgotten,
A new age will dawn upon them,
A swirl of value, morality is drawn in;
Only remembered are those who ascend to godhead;

Dusti Rodes

2014-03-06 12:00 am

Bringin' it on 'ome

 One minute,
 We're jokin' with,
 The next, Pokin',
 One another.
 Sendin' silly Sunflowers,
 Exchangin' banal banter,
 Fixin' up homesteads,
 In Farmville;
 On Facebook.

 Then in a 'shanty town' ,
 On a mud-strewn hillside,
 In Brazil.

 Or down on the Delta,
 In the bayous and levees,
 On the Mexican Gulf.

 In the centre of Brisbane,
 'The Sunken City',
 In the Sunshine State.

 Out in the suburbs,
 And the surroundin' countryside,
 In the vast areas of deluge,
 Of Queensland.
 In Pakistan,
 And Haiti.

 'Friends', are fightin',
 For their very lives;
 Through no fault of their own.

 Dusti Rodes (2012)

Dusti Rodes

2014-03-05 12:00 am

FLOWER POWER

 Bougainvillea,
 Stretching up out,
 Seeking the sun.
 In a south-facing window.

Dusti Rodes (2011)

Dusti Rodes

2014-03-05 12:00 am

L'HIVER APPROCHE

 Il fait chaud.

 Curtains, like the evenings,
 Being drawn earlier.
 Cyclamens, on the window sill,
 Leaning towards the light.
 Dark before dusk.
 Leaves falling by the second,
 Whipped up by the winds.
 Temperature droppin'
 With the sinkin' sun;
 That spends most days,
 Hiding behind clouds.
 Half moon present
 In the failing light
 At four thirty.
 And it's not yet November.

Dusti Rodes (2010)

Dusti Rodes

2014-03-05 12:00 am

THEY'RE PLAYIN' WITH THE CLOCKS

 They are playing with the clocks,
 Stealing our time.
 Precious moments, passing us by.
 What was it they said?
 Spring forward,
 Fall back.

 They're playing with the clocks again.
 Messing with our minutes.
 And our minds.
 The British Summer has gone.
 It's certainly a mean time,
 In Greenwich.

 Still light in the morning, for now.
 But dark long before dusk.

Dusti Rodes (2009)

Gord

2014-03-05 12:00 am

I feel like Bernie.
The way I sit among the living,
Not yearning for my turn again,
Yearning for a place to lay down,
Learning if I turn the bass down,
The treble will just sound louder.
Este Lauder is 80 dollars a bottle,
and I'm their top seller,
I feel like Bernie the way I Madoff.

Dusti Rodes

2014-03-05 12:00 am

The Illustrated Man
 

 Some called him, 'freak',
 For openly inviting public critique,
 Of his fabulously illustrated physique.
 But he is not so unique.
 Merely a strutting peacock,
 Soaking up the summer sun
 On some far distant shore.
 Nothing more.

Dusti Rodes (2010)

Dusti Rodes

2014-03-05 12:00 am

In a Japanese Vein

 Koi

 Fisherman,
 Solitary, seated,
 Beside the endless water.
 Wherein the single specimen
 Silently swims.
 Casting a line that leaves
 No trace on the still surface.


 Bonsai

 In Japan, it is Bonsai,
 In England, it is August.
 It will soon be the Fall.
 In both.

Dusti Rodes (2011)