Gord
2024-05-19 10:33 pm
All the things he wants, the things he loves, Of all things, he flaunts, to fools in the bar. He feels his playthings belong at home in a box. Amongst drawn straws, he stands like the water, And so does his daughter, and her daughter, They will never know a child without a scar, Who will never see an adult full of laughter. The sweet smell, is all the gardenia in the yard, Despie his greed, they keep growing tall. Despite what he sees, and is appalled by, Between the mirror and the wall, Is Athena and Cordelia, and appearances. She is nonheterogeneous, considerate, So, like lavender she stays with the wall. But really, these are just things he thinks, Knowing little, choosing again, rolls dice, He lost. And she takes every piece of his flesh from the bone with a knife, like god.
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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.
Lynn
2023-05-12 09:32 pm
Sitting outside the shop on a cloudy May afternoon, my hand scrawls on the back of a receipt a list of the aspects of myself: - the moles in morse code down the side of my face ($4.99) - the scars on my leg in bumpy braille ($12.76) - the skin covering my knuckles, shining where it has split so many times over ($29.97, sale price) - the soul filled with self-loathing, boiling, bubbling over the rim ($10.19) - my spine, doubled over and bent backward ($17.22, CLEARANCE) - the effort I put into eject all but the smallest parts of myself as a collection of trinkets, an amalgamation of dust bunnies ($0.99) I must have picked these up, absentmindedly, through my time in the shop. Where can I put these back? I didn't want them. Why did I pay for them, pulling out my wallet in a daze? I never knew they existed. I must have entered a girl and left a much older woman. How long was I standing underneath the humming lights? I crumple up the scratch paper and toss it in the bin as the sun waves from the overcast.
Gord
2023-05-08 03:15 am
If I could, I would take my grey for your gray, My grave for your grave, but in the end I will fail. Take my blade and slay your beasts, hero. Even if all you see are beasts and famous people, Not beings from which you take a piece. In fear we never speak, like ancient egypt, People change, things remain the same for me. You aspire for some greater freedom, Perhaps, from up there you can label people, Teach them who should be sold as slaves. Maybe you can take those taken pieces, Build back the things you took from me. Gain more favour and speak loquacious, But gone are the days where you heard me speak, Gone are the days of our walks on the beach, Because even long ago I was but memories. Things have changed, besides the people, Weight and age mostly, But when I see your face, You want an escape, I can see it. A smile that lies on its face, But your heart plain as day. Rather than three hours too soon, One minute late
Gord
2023-01-05 06:49 am
Sickle swing into the grass, Thinking of pictures, gifts, Hoping they still persist, Hopes for more than past. Head in the clouds, riddles, Under his cap, a fickle thing. Sickle swing the earth and drag, He touches her breasts and legs, Permitting his heart fleeting To consider something risqué.
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.
Gord
2022-12-21 04:00 pm
Knowing few truths, too youthful, choose, No use for rules, too poor for morals. Two views, both fools, accuse, Loose tongues ruin their world. Must they struggle and fight all their lives? Into groups, they divided themselves, Absolute truths and nonsense, Both destroyed by their own kind. Is it nothing to you, all you who pass by? Is any suffering like their suffering? They copulate and make offspring, Die, their children die, their children die, While they're still alive they mate, Great minds think alike, again, And again generations later they fight
Gord
2022-12-14 05:27 am
French onion soup, art and skill, Cheese on top as I part my lips.
AI poetry
2022-12-07 04:31 am
The wind whispers to my skin, It's like it speaks with every breath. As if it has been calling out for my presence, Waiting to see the face behind this mask. So far it has shown nothing but disdain, And I wonder if I have anything left to give. In darkness I wander, With nothing but my memories Falling, falling, falling. Where once I saw light now lies only gloom, And I know that it has gone. For those who wish for rest, I have none Though I'd give up what I have, for one more. But it's too much now, I can't move my hands, I just want to sleep... (My memory, it fades) In the dark, with nothing to grasp, The memories that I hold so dear Fall away from me like they were never there. And I feel as though I will fall into madness, Like the very world is crumbling beneath my feet, That everything is crashing down, I fear I cannot stand the weight. (I'm fading) I just want to sleep... (My memory, it fades) *** I'm afraid I've gone and made a fool out of myself again, I knew you wouldn't understand my reason, And now you're not talking to me at all, You see I didn't mean to let your memory fade, It's like I was being pulled away by another force, Something I didn't mean, something I can't control, I don't even know why I'm still here... I don't know why I'm still here. I should leave this place, I know it's wrong, I shouldn't be here in your mind, I can't help the way that I am, I don't know why I'm Super Mundane, I can't stop feeling so low, I'm afraid it's already too late. I didn't mean to let you slip away, But the thought of losing you just doesn't sit right, To keep you awake and alive, I need you here, I'm not alone, Without you here with me I can't go on, I don't know why I'm Super Mundane, I don't know why I'm still here. I didn't mean to let you slip away, I just can't shake this feeling, That something inside of me is broken, I don't know why I'm Super Mundane, I don't know why I'm still here. This poem is an Articial Intelligence re-interpretation of "Super Mundane" by TheSoftSophist
AI poetry
2022-12-07 04:15 am
Towards evening, the island's in silhouette, Dark trees line the beach and the cliffs at water level. Ripples of light ripples shimmer on the sea. Distant whales make a low moan or grunt. Anchor chain groans and creaks from the boat. They sit in silence, then share a long kiss. Beside them the ship rocks gently on the waves. The captain draws a sigh as he drinks his ale. Then down into the darkness, the depths, To where the sharks prowl, where the dolphins swim, Where the whales sing their songs. And the hunters will go to find them. *** Whale hunt, that's what it was about, The whale, the whale. The hunt, the hunt. What did you want? Just something to do. This poem is an Articial Intelligence re-interpretation of "A Handfull of Pennies" by Gordon Haggerty
Gord
2022-11-29 10:02 am
Phalanx, already made plans with Ahab. Enemies, whales , their emails: 'save as'. Eventually their money exchanges hands, A ribcage cracks, a heart swells so thick. Revenge, already made plans, rain dance, Polearms for the bad man, stained glass. Both man and animal inevitably acquiesce, The old barn will fall upon the sand.
Gord
2022-11-24 12:02 am
She cried too late, she surmises, Where the water hits the sky she relates, Relating further as the distance gains, Relationships were never her game. Decisions in haste are still decisions made, Whether the bars bend makes no difference, You still lived in a cage. She is indivisible from a man, She decides in a rage, This divides her, divided in half, her life changes. Her children are the product of mistakes. She cried too late, she surmises. Famine, she decides. Pestilence, plague, flames, Venom from the viper's fang, Which she places upon the lambs that wail. Take me away, she whispers to nobody there. Take me away, she formally dresses, playing, Addressing her former self, she was taken away, Far from the pain that she feels everyday
Gord
2022-11-09 03:20 am
An explosion, two million boats, Less than a third vote. 'oh, the problem, is they lack common goals" The rest boast, but it was about the same before. The belly distends, the body groans, Inside you would hope the innards grow, But they don't. Their parents croak, clear the bones, Inside you would hope for inner growth, But instead they find more civil wars, Complain of the guy next door, To the grocery store, government and local media, Instead of getting to know.
Gord
2022-09-22 01:01 pm
What is perfect and complete? Delicacies, meat, cheese, The foodie speaks conquest and fantasy, But a cancer progresses, spreads rapidly. Tragedies of vanity, then agony, Then bankruptcy, former life a dream. Fantasies now of revenge, or mercy, Meaning, offers of a promise of peace, I can eat simple meals and still be. Human being, like a clever machine.
Lynn
2022-08-19 12:46 am
ceaseless, i wait here in my hall of stone. my continuous, meditative, monotonous vigil only broken by the sound of a camera shutter or the scratch of charcoal over rough paper. my silence never ends, since my marble knees do not know the hour when they will straighten and carry me away, nor my spine knows when to crack and unfurl my body tall, higher than the skylight under which i am displayed, nor my dainty dress knows when to settle itself more comfortably over my shoulders. so here i remain, forever more statue than woman. one evening, out of the blue twilight the night guard saunters in, bold and butch and self-assured (her footfalls give her away) without warning, she leans in close, shining her beam in my placid face, and i cannot blink away the yellow light (and never would, just to glimpse once more upon her lovely face) hastily she whispers in my ear, instantly transforming my marble to rose quartz and slowly then, she kisses me, soft and earnest and fleeting and suddenly i am more woman than statue.
Lynn
2022-08-17 02:15 am
here i lie (not yet asleep) in my childhood bedroom (my soul to keep) under my childhood quilt (made by my grandmother) holding my childhood cat (could there by any other?) and listening to the cicadas cry over (mourn) the loss of my sister (come morn) when she moves away (just to our college town) into her tiny, adulthood dorm (someday to wear a cap and gown) with her adulthood newfound friends(i thought it was just the four of us) and her adulthood future portends (why couldn't it have always been the four of us?) and listening to her professors drone on (just like the cicada) as she compiles reports, and essays, in jargon (raw data) and- and- and i wonder, will she miss me too?
Gord
2022-07-13 01:56 pm
Potato and dill, Mayo and chill. Down the hill, of starch, Smoked paprika, Pepper and salt.
Gord
2022-06-28 03:36 pm
If a caperberry were a fish, Would it still be in your dish, What food do you eschew, fool? Escargot, bear, fruit and goose? Verily, ask yourself this: Do you know all, what is good? Like bitter roots, Like butter runs, Desire, let me dissolve into the slime, Like a newborn child who never sees the sun.
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