Gord
2018-08-29 12:46 pm
I have a shelf of books, all ashes. My most disastrous, Poetically immaculate. Writing of real life intangibles, Kissing a boy by the shore, While the crowd screams more. That's the 21st century, man, Progress a little beyond books of ash, Paper plates and cheques for cash, Beyond are spaceship parts beneath trash. If Etan must, they probably may have done, So if May is upon, another spring comes, Against a flower one cannot lean butt, Especially with the shadow cast cut across. Don't show up at the poetry contest, Rhetoric political, ignorant, floral, passe, Or expect they place you last, lame, fake.
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Hazey
2018-08-14 03:50 am
The thing that hurts the most. You calmed my storms. You helped make sense of the chaos. You plucked me from brokenness. Helped me find strength. I don't know what it was. But just looking in your eyes. Filled my soul with peace. I miss it. I miss the quiet. The calm. I miss us. I'm starting to feel broken again. Empty inside. Trying my best. Not to let anyone see. But there are days. Where control escapes me. Do you think of me? As often as I think of you? Do you remember my name? What it once meant to you? I look back on that day. March 10th. Where I lost you. Where every image I had of you. Just shattered. You were no longer a refuge. You became a source of pain. You still are to this day. I blame myself for it. For my losing you. It's been three months. Realizing it's true. I don't cry as much. Though my heart still does ache. Try as I might; I can't bring myself to hate; You. The situation. Us. I want to throw it under the proverbial bus. I can't. Because the sky still reminds me of you. It was our destiny. Our sky. The world was going to be ours. Accept it. It's over now. These dreams just won't come true. I need to accept that what we are. Is through.
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
2018-02-28 12:36 pm
Lyric, I write divine, Chorus determinism. Mind fine but life grand, Guitar a work of vine, For too few seconds, Then bent to sand. Humorous religion, Reception mad alive, Forewards and artistry, A life pious. Mine. Flounder only eaten, Soul aptly designed. Father, I write of lions, But only of your will, Type defined, candid.
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
2017-12-29 12:45 pm
He writes fights, such sadness, Insult poetry, of life invalid, Views fantastic, mantelpieces. Cameras and angles fandangled, Manic as the fan they turn. Misunderstandable, as most magic. Penned plans turn older, forever, Less recognizable, less clever, Done before.
Gord
2017-12-27 10:00 am
Amateur poet, ultimate, Heroic, stoic, slowest, Everything rhymed about, Hopeful of inchoate. Chum of the lake, think, Who is the wake for? Dead men living pale, or those living, Mouth agape, ailing, Flailing their limbs, Scene akimbo, Fare unanswered, Meter fake. So they take what is mine, Question pondered, What is life plastered? Humanity mastered, Time honored, or is it a last laugh, before dying afterward? Poets lie yet find alms, Measured footsteps bald, Words lifelessly clever, Heart hard to hold palm; Old arms to old arms, Adages stolen loved upon; Bard holy, arch golden, To carve lonely, Barns beholden, Nothing nobel. Par normally, like poultry, To starve colts. Ark art, Swan gone, Dark garb, lark fawned, Opposite of his mind, He finds laughter, Chapter after chatter, Chancellor gone; He defines pattern, An afterthought.
Gord
2017-12-25 08:13 am
Amateur poet, ultimate, Heroic, stoic, slowest, Everything rhymed about, Hopeful of inchoate. Chum of the lake, think, Who is the wake for? Dead men living pale, or those living, Mouth agape, ailing, Flailing their limbs, Scene akimbo, Fare unanswered, Meter fake. So they take what is mine, Question pondered, What is life plastered? Humanity mastered, Time honored, or is it a last laugh, before dying afterward? Poets lie yet find alms, Measured footsteps bald, Words lifelessly clever, Heart hard to hold palm; Old arms to old arms, Adages stolen loved upon; Bard holy, arch golden, To carve lonely, Barns beholden, Nothing nobel. Par normally, like poultry, To starve colts, Farms wholesome.
Gord
2017-09-28 04:57 am
Feelings in her heart, Apathy of mind lost, The world desired, Earth forgotten, Therefore pursuant of swine, Love begotten. Reading of foreigners, Yet her poetry declines, Like Vines, Fine Wines, Rhyme lines her mind; Obsessive of forewords and forever afters; Useless goodbyes, Given in poor wording. Forgotten is passion, For words and order, A husband mastered, A wife only borrowed.
The Sophist
2017-09-25 12:25 pm
Today I heard a triad In a weird way it made me feel sad Can't wait to get home Get my guitar Get the chance To Try that Yesterday I heard a melody In an old way it still feels new to me Can't wait to get out Get dancing Get clarity Inpsiring Last week I saw an act of kindness In a good way it made me feel that My kind is not alone Not so far Not fraud in fact To try that Tomorrow I'll write a poem About all the ways I've felt this week My blindness in a tome Day blindness Moon blindness Blindness off the dome Right now there's nothing to look at Immersed in machinery Not a technocrat Not a plutocrat Stopped avoiding art To try that triad But make it flat
Gord
2017-07-25 12:25 pm
The earth poetry, Pro apros, for her, Hair flowing, Grave guarded, True to the dirt, Forever ardent. Temporal and lack taste, True feelings Antarctic, Soil barbed, heart anemic, Loose moral decanter, Measured in yardsticks. Yet life scenic, Living wage garnished.
Gord
2017-07-13 01:16 pm
Past tomorrow I see no lecterns. The horse speaks, lack luster, Words worthless, and everyone taking pictures; Girls wet as many pitchers, Barn doors close windowless; Blissful peace again, Silencing planes overhead, Standing tall as clouds, Power small as a child, Foreign tongue, power bottom, University educated, Now you've got 'em. Maybe whispered tomorrow, Today lives in industry, Claws large as the gut, Staged imagery for one; Paper mimicry of a doll, Feigned apathy of a sun;
Avreen
2017-07-07 06:24 am
I sat under the tree glancing nearby, hoping to find someone who could see me cry. Dreaming about a happier place, I stood up and walked speeding up my pace. I saw a girl sitting on the green bench looking as if trying to hide, Just like me maybe no one was there by her side; and with loneliness surrounding and head down she suddenly looked up gazing around. Seeing her face, I turned back in trauma and saw something which I could never forget "Why do you look back? This agony and pain ruined my life Its about that rain of acid which turned my cheerful life into a life so vapid". With tears all gone, I held her head high "there is no need for you to cry." You are the most beautiful girl I have ever seen and I am not lying because I totally mean. All punishments for the guilty are too small, it is now time for him to fall. I then realized that in this world of misery and sadness, there is a lot to see Even the acid victims have the right to live just as a common girl like me.
Gord
2017-03-21 12:00 am
Driving to the cottage, Mouths full of espoinage. Talk of bondage world, Floral arrangements, Done by potheads.
The Sophist
2017-03-21 12:00 am
Grey Sky Go Away Filling Our World With Colour World Poetry Day
The Sophist
2016-11-17 12:00 am
It's you I want I just mean Do it Want me I'll scream Drown them More feelings Of wanting Longing For something Aloof Trot of the hoof Fall from the floor Land on the proof Smile at the whore Missing her tooth Trying to score Good times with the roof Ease to cool her Down and pass out Songs of abusers Speaking of peace Echo through darkness Then she falls asleep For something Standoffish I just mean It you whose the problem Not me I just solve 'em I can't be wrong 'Cuz I'm peaceful And honest And a really chill guy If you don't mind me talking At lengths just to show I'm not racist I'm mocking Their race 'Cuz it's funny Not Angry Just Loving That Pain From Above Automatic Dark static Creatures of habit Throwing outrage around Myself I won't have it Outraged at myself Myself never planning To be holed in a cell Living under you bandits You won't have it yourselves Yourselves being outraged At all of yourselves For all of your work Education and health Yell at your brothers Strangers Mothers Escaping from hell By throwing dirt At the world Insurmountable selves By the billions All with a version of self I'm doing it now Laying a seed To expand And develop I mean I just want to scream These guys I girl dog about I'm mad 'Cuz I'm me
Justan Mitchell
2016-05-04 12:00 am
When my peripheral vision glanced at her she did not resemble the Queen of my dreams, not the Cleopatra whose footprints roamed across my back. Instead she painted her own impression upon me. And due to her own flare, I've grown tense to taste her plate of truth or dare. If you have not gathered the info yet, her Irish sunset over Germany before her floral scent approached me. Then I looked and her twinkle with a smile seductively manipulated the process to be hooked. And I am not speaking of the kind of love that "fictional" novels boast. In noticing her high esteem I could not retrieve in memory, surroundings that clearly reflected my wantings. Never to resemble a member of my mental figures of infinite atmospheres, and it is now clear, she was waiting just two steps to the right in the mid of night at a club for those who write. The next lesson is the next blessing, and I think she likes me too! But I'm not speaking of the kind of love that boast lust or that funny feeling from romance novels, not even the wish one makes as "Jeanine" awakes from her bottle. I am writing this for you. Your artistry equates to what my heart's song translates, and I can relate. The Proof of your mental weight has positive potential packed in places beyond superficial positions of great! All of this and I still can't pronounce your name, which leads me to say that I'm and glad my dreams have already been played way out across the intricate workings of Nature's space. And our collective destiny has been predetermined so what will becomes of it, is what we add to IT. Oh and by the way it is nice to know that chocolate is still love and that spirits still connect and grow, yes it is nice to know. Justan "Potential" Justan Mitchell Dangerous Soul Life
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