The Sophist
2016-02-22 12:00 am
The Sophist speaks of years forlorn. Breathing in the ears of corn. "What mercy does a savage make? What pity do the foolish take? They take one step, and nothing more." The Sophist speaks of emeralds. So green and dope for sure. So dope! So dope, Oh, And Green! For sure... Found but lost before, Lost for all eternity, Now He's found for sure. The Sophist still confused by waves, Playing seashells on the shore. Scarcely eats, Softly prays, The Sophist sings in uniform.
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The Sophist
2016-01-26 12:00 am
Languish and pine farcically. Anguish behind bars I speaked. Sleep, breathe, and piss poetic imagery. Retards stillborn incestuously, then beaten. Death of a feeble pure breed, bleeding. Derelict to think souls leave and vanish. Remembrance lacking evilly. Evanescence; Drowning of a water lily.
The Sophist
2015-09-21 12:00 am
Three loveless dynasties divine. Providence in sheep inside. Bleeding, 'Treating to be blinded. The Feigning Suicidals. Three peasants covering their eyes, Not displaying thoughts inside. Blinded, 'Treating to be bleeding. A hopeless heart reciting. Bed made and three pillows aligned. Love lost 'tween a bout and twine. Meaning, Ends of never starting, Twelve sorrows between two hearts. Twelve hearts; Their grief imparting. Twelve stars align to follow charts. Cosmic games of skeet in the dark. Teeming, Conducted by the stars; An opera of three parts. The loveless damned to be confined, Only singing chorus lines. Finding love within their sources. Slamming on their desks with sore fists. Bed tossed and our feelings opined. Love found 'tween a tackle and twine. Value, Still, But still restarts, Twelve griefs of an ardent heart. Earnestly, Your soul departing.
Gord
2015-02-04 12:00 am
Voice 6: No man plays sport with a god, Sans future sporting warts of frog. So can it be, in the course of wrong, Lies retort the support of a cause? Change lies about, but why bother? Energy costs in dollars, So am I to be in this world? Where there is no king under god, Nor a czar for the godless, Only flattened, artificial sod, Tragedy and rape for the goddess, Upon which we clap in full form. How am I to remorse, or reverse decision? Upon a world which would deny procession. In my opinion the wheels still turn. Minor character: I see. Minor character leaves.
Gord
2014-11-27 12:00 am
Yesterdays yes-men yearning, Yet the world still turning, Why is it that the wood burns? The will of the dead be turned. Then thus they thrive thinly.
Gord
2014-10-28 12:00 am
A million stars align to begin nothing, Can truly the best begin insulting? A test of love becomes benign offspring. A gentle hand caresses a face softly, Yet with the other casts aside a spade. Cannot the hands of god be unloving? Those wish for pain receive cavalcade, Thinking prayer for cake, not for absolving. Best rhymes touted as insults, Trying to be what they aren't: wise. True rhymes timeless be, no beauty sulks. No man plays games to receive a prize. Cannot you write of greater things? Or still is life consumed with frings?
The Paraffin One
2014-10-02 12:00 am
Apocalypse they prepped for never came, For mother never even prepared for birth, All, Among the leaves rot the same, Yet none bother to even feed the earth. For all that shoots becomes hostile, Especially in the face of a newcomer; Lowe the god that shoots the tile, Bottle similar to that of his newborn. Quoth the bottle: Leave my spirit, No man burdened by free will, Suppose the throttle is under skirt, No man burnt will be free to chill. Suppose we see our freedom filled, Then who benchmarks freedom stilled?
The Sophist
2014-09-25 12:00 am
Decay and the rifle alone. Censored by Gods as cold winter snow passes men stuck in glop as it blows. Who knows? What the fuck does a soul call a home? Accepting ideals without gloves being shown. Refuting belief but still knowing that something transcends all of time, space, math, and the know-how. Gloating but feeling in pain for lost souls turned wayward, corrupt, or depraved by the fallout. Take it in, as it turns out, by talking in strides with the crowds. Softly speak glop when it counts. Slowly speak up, and never speak out.
The Sophist
2014-09-04 12:00 am
Both sides support reform, God I feel dumb, Then I go back to watching porn, That still too is dumb, Ah, ugh, I'm wracking my poor brain, Surely nothing can be done, If something clearly is insane. Begone to the pits of apathy, Where men are fighting to succeed, Be free from binds which binding me, Lead me blind to blind society. Truth be told it would be great, To record sounds and meditate, Without hoping to get paid, Ad space isn't free, We pity ourselves if ads are sent to peace. We sent our brothers off to war. Speaking of the fun; Fighting for a rival hoard. Dying in the sun; Pierced by a brother's sword. Ah, ugh, I'm wracking my poor brain, Thieves thieved some time for fun, Our heroes appearing more and more depraved. To share the same disease, Tortured through our dreams, To decay among the trees, Torment; a short and brutish piece, Yet all of it is great, Bleeding essence every day, Alderson loop of disjunctive melodies, Existence sings in remedies, Never will the tempest ease, Yet underneath there lay a silent tone, Arranging scattered harmonies.
The Sophist
2014-08-28 12:00 am
A generation mugging for the camera, Ban them, Have all their shows cancelled. Fight their right to put life at a stand still, Investing in communes of every-day shills, Pushing brands in their hands while they're dancing on pills, What have you to say if they're killing themselves? Porcelain dreams putting dirt in the well, Laptops so hot they deplete all their cells, I believe this is better than hell, A step above; Below everything else. I believe we can rise above self. Rather than die just help everyone else; Setting up systems to help after death. I'm reading from cues I'll admit. There's someone else there; He can't write; I can't think; I'm too dumb; He's too quick. A perfect man split. Think, think, I need another answer, Before this beauty becomes burden, An innovation longing for the grammar.
Gord
2014-08-21 12:00 am
I can understand why your parents abused you but i still dont understand the molestation bit
Drunk on Stage and Punching other Girls
I innocently sat sidelined, While sidewinder missiles, Blackened and filled the sky. They saw no oversight. Then calamity, personnel, Call out and rome fell, The claim don't prose well. Well, I suppose they don't. But I never was no poet.
The Sophist
2014-08-20 12:00 am
Everyone is so depressed, Though no one likes a downer, As such casts frowns upon the Frowner, And thus becoming frowns themselves, Lusting after laughter, Mad and frown obsessed, Coat the world in spite of love or hate, Diethyl Ether, If I entertain the hatred one more hour, I may get a bullet in my chest. If I entertain my love for higher power, I may still get a bullet in my chest. Though no one likes a downer, I'll admit that I'm depressed, I wish I could be smart and know it all, But I'll confess; I'm not, and I don't. Thus I walk unto another test, Often times my thoughts are downers, This is why I acquiesce.
The Sophist
2014-08-07 12:00 am
Don' be 'fraid just don' come back. Don' plan attacks on modern days. They don' like us 'cause we're free, If "free" means happily enslaved. Raped every day but with a smile, Hostility like Abu Ghraib, Graves stone but a worthless trial, We might as well carve frowning faces, Omit names and write words only in dirt. There just write "fags". "Junior pupil at a private school nailed by nerds." Then just laugh at it. Muslims aren't depraved, Lennon even spoke at large of living in a bag. It's freedom in a way, Think about it, Living without caste, Judged only by your spoken word sans judgement 'pon your face. They sort of make a case, I'll even take it off if you can find a private place, It's just less of a disgrace. To think my mid-pubescent beard could not effect my fate. Ignoring shit we hate, We could probably find a pace that we can all relate. Chill music but still rocking in your face, Fat bowl of potato dill salad I created. Personally, I like war with lots of laughs; It can be great. Nothing personal, but I'll crack 'spic and nigger jokes all day.
The Sophist
2014-08-07 12:00 am
Wave functions collapse, Pitch blackens attack, There's pressure in here, Still, floating, relaxed. Motion an act, Motionless shadows expand. World is but a Starship 3000, Stand still with inertia intact. All purpose for this study is incredibly wack yo.
The Sophist
2014-07-30 12:00 am
Yawn, A boring thought, Moving on. Blah, The time we've fought, Force mignon, For nei' were strong. Plod, Reason/not, Such are battles, Which we ought, Discard to dogs, Trained to chew them. Humdrum, Through coral caught, Stone filled satchels, Path danger fraught, Mind's a fog, Not mad at you though, I'm only mad duly. Doldrums, I wish it would stop, I'm mad at myself, For letting this rot, I'm not just licking frogs, My croak at the moon shows, I only care truly, If you care about you. Pedestrian, Living life at the top, Panopticon cell, And fuck is it hot, But we sit writing songs, I croak at the moon slow, We make a pair fool-ly, Sympathetic, Two lives out of tune, At different ends of the spectrum, Beauty ensuing. Apostates to our parents' dreams, Too old for pride, But maybe peace. We'll love in long strides, A boring thought, Despite defeat, We still move on, Lows bolstering highs, Finding new regimes.
The Sophist
2014-07-24 12:00 am
Quick, snap some pictures so my friends can see my band. We don't have any good songs yet so they wouldn't understand without the glamour shots. Quick, take some stammered stills while I hammer shots. This will be the best band to make it the top without a strand of talent in our hands. Don't tell me how to raise my band. I know what music looks like; tactfully unplanned. I write Pizza Hut music like Ariana Grande. I expand, and so disband. My drummer had demands, and ignored my commands. My solo career takes stand. Quick, snap some more glamour shots so my friends can see firsthand depraved aspects of my brand.
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