Gord

2020-06-20 08:44 am

Sloganeering memetic, 
Lowly speaker of rhetoric, 
Teach us a world hate filled. 
He speaks of the sieve:
'It seeks to strain and divide, 
It sees two ways and aligns,
Hands in bonds, eyes blind,
Invest your money wisely,
As do Gods on Friday.'
Lies.

Gord

2020-06-04 12:25 am

The toad speaks, the mind sees,
The mouse squeaks of menses;
Too high to sleep, ego flying,
Does one write lines on sheets?
Scribble perfection, or deny?
Fights cannot be won, only survived.
Poet, please give me writing,
Forced to be, I need power to fight.

Gord

2018-11-01 06:54 pm

Reading of lives I enjoy deceit,
My letter bold, italic and neat:
"Please hear me, Greek, leek,
I sometimes write nonsense,
Lest hope you would hear it."

Leading my lines,
Foreseeing poetically,
Receiving a liar guilty.
He says:
"For stanzas today, teacher,
I stand like bread features,
My brother filet beside me."
For once he doesn't lie,
Looks for the sky, sees ceiling.
Nothing aground marks his feeling,

Seeing the concrete,
He remarks of life:
"To tryst so wildly, again,
Would Vivaldi paint so vividly?
Probably, and with champagne,
because his name has dignity."
So seeing his window,
He thinks of rain.

Gord

2018-08-10 05:27 pm

Nails filed to the end,
Sun setting in the distance,
I scratch and claw endless,
Failing to find a coin to spend,
Flailing to mind my business,
The new owner Olympus.

Perhaps I am but foil to him,
Poetically our lives akin.
Though he sees me boiling pans,
Loud as thunder in soiled pants,
Sent on my way out the door,
Rather than embarrassed again.

Gord

2016-12-06 12:00 am

Feather aloft, with folded wing,
Birds gliding as the summer sings,
Turning only to check the fitting.
Bastion of the great lords,
Last swinging his great sword,
Breaking bones he sees fit.
A life in three parts,
As though it was,
And so it is.
Life lays it's judgement,
As one tries to live.

Gord

2016-11-15 12:00 am

Classical antiquity in his eyes,
In the future he sees nothing.
No hummus made of pain,
No main containing animal.
How will his likeness continue,
With same vein, similar virtues?
In the mind propaganda becomes true.

Selling Kerchiefs with his likeness,
The future becomes today,
Yesterday's pathway impassable,
Except for by train.
A smile in the rain.

Gord

2016-08-18 12:00 am

Nothing of a light inside,
No desire for burning fire,
No mercy or desire, already alight,
Stammering as you admonish,
Changing that astonishing,
Changing again as you end,
Foreshadowing verbiage you admire.
Only my wendigo sees my ambitions,
And only others fear my desires.

Gord

2016-07-12 12:00 am

In his future he sees tired coughing,
But the seer mundane usually finds nothing,
Only peering back upon seared meat,
Apparently to be, or feel something.

Caravans of the sky desire furniture,
Of which the past robbed the future,
Paradigms of the mind flipped suture,
Lying prone as a feat of nature.

Justan Mitchell

2016-05-01 12:00 am

Dangerous Soul-life...

Free to be ME
Poetic Universe

I seee you are designing a fallen fatality for me, 
a generational king with a heavenly line of royalty, 
a legacy that born in me. 
And in that you must have seen in my predetermined destiny. 
Now I see clearly what you must have already seen and that's why you can't be truthful shaitan my frienemy? 
And the lies you tell to swell the minds of those in power, 
those who seek to devour, me me me And yes in deed it is all about me, 
selfish recovery. 
I'm on the plane and I need the mask to save myself first then Amiri, 
my born leader, ruler, prince, and future KING! 
My first and only biological seed. 
The boy in the mirror is reflecting me. 
When I was five I began to die and now that I've risen they still ask the age old question why, 
because I lied first and the result was others took advantage. 
Now I'm again in love, but this time it's with me myself and I. 
The man's reflection when I stand at the edge of flowing streams, 
tells me that this man is ok and he loves what he sees, 
Looking back so calmly without the use of nicotine, 
intoxicating drinks or weed, medicinally or recreationally. 

Yes I'm free I'm free I'm free to be to be ME.

Poetic Universe.

Dangerous soul-life...

The Paraffin One

2014-09-15 12:00 am

No wave easily embraces a shore,
Yet broken it finds solace soars.
Beyond is sea, pale godless,
No effect easily saves scores.
Yet a violin plays of the whore,
Upon the pier, praying for goddesses.
A boat launches without birth mother,
Father never sees need for guidances,
Tragedy is compassions' like brother,
Yet time must pass or we tarnish each other.

My tragedy at sea was like no other:
I believed in no Poseidon of fate.
So I found no place safe to wallow,
Waves endlessly chased my starboard,
Port too was nothing but ocean onward,
So I trumpet ironic prayers for rain,
Anything to wash away my shameful act.

The Sophist

2014-07-04 12:00 am

He speaks in subterfuge,
He makes myth from animal bones, 
'scribes visions of mothers viewed postnatal,
He calls them "future you".
He claims Caesar's final breath found you.
He sees a subtle use,
And has you build his thrones.
He's too busy to view.
He gives you your fill,
You attack at his illusions,
'til your confusion is ill.

I write folk songs for fools.
Without steps I reach your homes,
Crying disses of another's views most fatal
I call them "false truths",
I hand out bauble knives to the Fountain Youth,
I burn the stable spruce,
And make off with the stones,
I take the dragons too,
I live just to kill,
I attack at your confusion,
Pushing your illusions downhill.