Gord
2020-06-15 03:16 am
Do thickets see steeples, or are people the thickets? If writers are thick headed, Writing of Peter Pans' pigs, Who visits? Bull, riches, seer, man, Write a list upon my hand, So that my plot, it thickens. What is time spent living: Divine or perspective driven? Plate spinner, of your illusion, Place your spins upon their back. Bull, chickens, and feelings lack, Who takes from hands of other hen? Who take the hands of other hen, Who take the land of wary men, Who lost to men, More suspicious then. What is it all about: Defense, or Pence, To what extent do I extend, What is strength?
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Gord
2020-01-31 06:42 am
You decide policy valid, I speak my minds eye, Ballad, Badland or Ballet. Poet's poet, is the port a port? Is a court a'court? A beer is a beer everywhere in the world, The port stays the same side of the boat, Afloat a float, Giants snort and stay the same size, Slay the same flies, Lame in their reprise, And their coats too short.
Gord
2020-01-30 08:02 am
A trial by nonsense, to no ends, Sweet Rolland, give me your hand, Give me your head, On my shoulders rests another mans.
Gord
2020-01-14 04:33 am
Power, in the form of a word, Flowers in the form of the world, Cowards, in the form of the word, Towers of form, of the world, Yet so far from dirt, So says the eyes: If one wrote a novel, Bible or implied shorthand, It would be in favour, Such is the land.
Gord
2018-10-21 08:56 am
Why write technical poetry? Skylight he remarks, opens, Beams of light Caepoeria, Room a knight of California, Adjoined, special upholstery, Coins, for centuries. My king coiled, Toiling thy rings, By fools finding hands, Bringing foil to my picnics. Thinking spoilt, Singing doyle, Drunk stringing his violin, To play brittle. How would I do, Aemula? Is my world to soon, exposed, Or steeped for your future? A mule for god, How would I too, butcher, Myself, user and administrator? I'm you for Claude, Europe, Sugar, or urban woodland. Frogs bulwark their homeless, I'm too for piles of durance, Furthermore for living fulcrum, Furthermore, for here it comes. Words technical, sure, but speaking of, Can I not just turn and bite my thumb?
Gord
2018-10-16 06:37 pm
Imagine your achievements dreamed, To swim upstream, one's valor full, Salmon like calendar, won tomorrow. River colander rusted and massive, Is this my love, and forever after, To be strained by dirty captives? I magic your feelings careening, To sink a damn, one's cup too full. Salt mounds like ashen piles, Too often borrowed by a saline cult. Maybe my faults found by asking, To speak upfront, one never knows, Maybe fault-lines, foundations cracking. To be a tan, army man, evil being, May be taught lies fundamentally ethic, Baby breaking, tied to shouting rhetoric.
Gord
2018-09-12 09:04 am
Solemn acoustic, play yourself, Silent, foolish, I wait for death, My chord arrest, My Lord attest. Holland music, half my breath, Tax my address for half my wealth, Alas my protest, perhaps my stress, In direct response, my indirect. The woman scoffs at his giving gifts, Living gifted is not an ornate box; Richly leveraged when you need a lift, More alike to a light that is simply off. She says, take me out, tonight, Whereto the people are young, Bodies are loose, fabric tight. He says, mistakes and lies, Too young to accrue true views, He mocks and chides.
Gord
2018-04-24 03:17 pm
Poster of an omen, toking, Dreaming by a plastic ocean, Most fast forward, hopeful; King of post, tasks chosen, Still lives Midas, hands golden. Lapland where they dig holes, Smoke weed and dance poles, Kings of the foal, antsy, cold. The older they grow, though, He loses his power, cowers, Curses feeling, eats pantry. Banishes his people of necessity, Carelessly manages feeble himself, Paddles the plastic ocean, relieved; Departs common and flowers nothing.
Gord
2018-04-04 05:14 pm
Poster of an omen, toking, Dreaming by a plastic ocean, That most fast forward, hopeful; King of post, tasks chosen, Still lives Midas, hands golden. Lapland where they dig holes, Smoke weed and dance poles, Kings of the foal, antsy, cold. The older they grow, though, He loses his power, cowers, Curses feeling and eats. Banishes his people of necessity, Carelessly manages feeble himself, Paddles the plastic ocean, relieved; Departs common and flowers nothing.
Gord
2018-04-04 04:02 pm
Style lapland, cola, A black knight broken, All they dig is holes, No pause. I'm tsarnov of the rhyme, I'm Midas of the pot, With time running out, And Race not lost.
Gord
2018-02-09 01:57 pm
Always crows flying, living Ottawa, Silence as loud as a passing truck. Liar of the present, fool future, Suture and praying for none at all. Always comedies written, hands numb, Painter finishes his castles, backward, Words tired yet landing with oomph; Posture lacking, Skull bashed in, Tomorrow's recluse and marked man, As the crowd begins, he rescinds.
Gord
2018-01-31 06:56 am
Letters written of nonsense, Inner conflicts, profits, Constantine of outfits, Proud of their holes. Opposite, of continents, Sinkholes, swallowing, Mere weathering problems, All they do is disclose. Imagine a world insolvent, Overpopulated and cold, Where fistfuls of dollars, Are better off. Plastic like the ocean, Poetic hopeful, Scotland. Politically motivated, Heart emplaced. However honest, lies of fate, One defends an idea flagrant, Upon a hill of nothing sacred, Fairness being the continent. Unless one wishes a life content, In a country of many ferrets.
Eric
2018-01-08 03:19 pm
Goodbye old friend, you've served me well; you did your job throughout this hell. Exhausted - now you're lying here; within your eyes I see the fear. My pal is calling...let him go, he'll never learn, he'll never know how dire it is to lose a friend, but I'll stay with you to the end. And if the Hun should come before you've breathed your last in this damn war, then, so be it, I'll die with you, for loyal friends must see it through until the end, when we'll be seen as one - once more on England's green and pleasant land for which we fought, to plough God's fields as we were taught. I hear the bullets whizzing by, the screaming men, the battle cry. You lift your head to shield my heart, and bullets tear your neck apart. I hold you tight with bloodied hand, I try to rise, I try to stand. I feel the shrapnel from the shell-- Goodbye old friend, you served me well.
Gord
2017-11-14 07:03 am
Traversing the forest, Lakelands' Adonis denies support, A life abridged, lies purported, Rhymes dismissive, Current from shore; Spies thwarted, imported, Assorted, awarded, Escorted, extorted, Aborted, recorded; Rewarded as kings, Buried like swords. Verse, chorus, He is upon us, Life no more warm; Files, less security, Flies less than before.
Gord
2017-03-08 12:00 am
Only tragedy of the pen, Everything self penned, Self authored. Cherishing the gift of god, but with silent laughter. Floating dynasty upon the water, Field my dreams, take my island, Let me spend my days a wander, Looking for your prodigal child, With no time for spectacular novels, Cobblestone violence or love chided. Machiavellian influenced religion, Post irony, Post music, Long, long, into the future. Where no human exists, Only Nature.
Gord
2017-03-03 12:00 am
Partridges fly, Above the land they admire, Moon rocks to the scientist, Fertility given to a goddess, Pointless admiration. So begins desire, The bird flies higher, Further from the ground, Wherefore no dreams to mire. Society jobs to a miser. My job is too dry, Hands cracking, without water. Voice loud enough to deny it.
Gord
2017-02-17 12:00 am
Cubs pride design to hunt, In parable, from a bird's eye, They sit upon rooftops, Chilling out in caste. Smoking weed and desiring, Maybe the future holds tomorrow, Tomorrow bring the last. Huns perspiring at American funds, Infinite systems of foreign gods. The Americans scoff, Savage preparing for battles cost, Yet they lost. Gold and all. Wasted bombs landed on land, Nobody was ever on. Intelligence of bitten tongues;
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