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.

Gord

2017-11-17 03:18 pm

Tattoo on her arms, postured,
Flippantly she remarks of nonsense,
Tense with feigned confidence,
A world over marching pasture.
Presume their charms poor,
Slipping of mudpiles immense,
Loose with large boulders,
Earth nobler than it is dumb.
They resume opportune position,
Posturing of nonsense distant,
Less limbs and less benediction,
Ammunition less firearms existence.

Gord

2017-07-18 06:12 pm

Like a dull axe she finds problems,
Forever chopping away at them, honest,
Heart longing for promise disregarded;
Dressed for the ward, fully pardoned;
Walking son further follows suit,
Continuing without education,
Tongue misconstruing in search;
Fuhrer didactic, in foolish,
Shooting skies of oration,
Bullets true to the earth;
Flippant remarks of life,
Piousness to the dirt,
Burying words in nonsense,
Burning iron and desertion;
Shakespeare by any other name,
Apt it was before tall tales,
Lies furious among the vegetation,
Born, lived and smothered there;
Meat filler, then life billiard,
Son born a killer,
Writing of nonsense,
Mentally ill, political figure,
Opinion maudlin.

Gord

2015-02-09 12:00 am

Voice 1:
I may ask a question of nonsense,
However I ask not philosophical,
Practically, cannot we heed,
We merely speculate, sight unseen.
Anointing of the dyke absurd,
Fools searching to search of,
What poignancy is a question like,
What is strife?
Why not question, what is life?

Voice 3:
Life is currency of an institution,
When I speak loud of retribution.
We both die upon our war machine,
Apropos closure for those supine.
Solution besting additional convolution.

Voice 1:
Passing stars dull with light,
So perhaps all fate is forever finite.
And all twilight is then n'everlasting,
Caste chaste over trivial happening,
Casting themselves of classical tragedy,
Without squalor or clothes raggedy,
Hip stores looking to rewrite history.

Voice 3:
True, but I see no god protector.
Contractors of the holy body,
They are probably of nobody.
Villains to die of destiny,
Enemy of the true spectacular.
Enemy not just of the vernacular,
Binoculars or arbitrator.
An enemy alike to a Reich betrayer.

Gord

2015-01-30 12:00 am

Voice 2:
If I tax not the husband,
I laugh not upon the sun.
I task not the daughter.
I ask not of nonsense, but honor.
To ask men of skill-set stoic,
Who is the one to dance prophetic?
They say skill-wise I circle cone,
Shall I play so remarkably alone?
When shall I finally wax poetic?

Voice 3:
Do not fret in worry,
I fight a fool, truly.
If we fight horseback steel,
His men will have no drink,
All ship that be shall sink,
If they think upon the sea,
I foresee not a shot upon me.
I foresee not a shot upon my men.
However,
I foresee dead men of opposing color.
A sea of red for a coward humble.
Two dawns we march upon him,
Squalid condition disregarded.
An offer of an ultimatum:
Convoluted death or instant slaughter.