The Sophist

2015-06-19 12:00 am

No bulwark for a king's depression,
But bulwarks for a king,
Homework is a learned obsession,
But bulls work for a king.
Dogmatic in a weird direction;
Every single thing is,
Worthless upon first conception,
But the first born of the king isn't.

The Sophist

2015-05-22 12:00 am

I gave you that;
Which wasn't half bad.
I gave you love;
If you consider my dad.
Never gave my mom,
Anything we had;
So if I give you love,
Be warned I'll take it back.
If you find my love one day,
Just don't take it half bad.
Maybe it'll last for a day and a half.
I sip hate with a handle;
Pouring love with carafes.

Gord

2015-02-18 12:00 am

Voice 6:

Voice 5:
Impart not, depart impassioned.
Skirt not around the main subject,
Constrict yourself within contract,
Remain slack, what remains lacks.
Often gold is only plated brass.


Voice 6:
Massive injuries cost my crawl,
A future gone,
Even barring expectation, 
I could bawl tragic.
Should Atlas drop the ball,
Just expecting God catch it?
I want no tricks nor magic.

Voice 4:
There shall be no magic,
silly tricks or dancing,
Only men upon a battlefield.
Some dead, some laughing.
For if you could take a life,
I could take a life.
Only without procrastinating.
I will bring a squire only,
No men will hold you down,
Assuming no-one eviscerates me,
only father shall go to town,
my final wish being a canary.

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

2015-02-04 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

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.

Gord

2015-01-16 12:00 am

Seeking refreshment,
Dire wolves present,
Ready to gnaw.
Gnu society is buried along.
String pulled taught,
Ropes around throats,
Strings play onward,
Despite what they're taught.
An uproar of laughter occurs,
Society of horse-eaters,
glue-makers, wearing fresh wigs.
Pigs remaining adorned in powder,
Guns pointed, son anointed, 
Appointed afterward as God,
Society of brow-beaters,
As if word meant nothing either,
Society of Shakespearean clods.

Gord

2014-12-05 12:00 am

Triad written, triad lost.
Writer smitten upon those accost.
Freely written upon winter snow.
Merely smitten with long lost globe.
Toward the mark I ride alone,
Never to hit only return to atone.
So, yes, I did smoke the dope.
I french inhaled and redistributed smoke.

The Sophist

2014-10-30 12:00 am

Doll Robert in a sailing shirt,
Ever lurks through souls deserted,
Tall akward leaves a trail covered,
Never hurt but he scared the girl.

The Paraffin One

2014-10-08 12:00 am

Depressed, never to make lasting impression.
A denizen of hope to never make the finish.
Yet gladly they have made no procession,
A gentleman leaves, not extincting the fish;
Yet, gladly the simple fish onward,
Unrealized is their colony of cowards,
No love and no goal worked toward,
Fools with lofty goals pulled Earthwards,
Nobody cheers as the people awe.
Nobody cares as the people stand jaw slack.
Nobody leers in care as they're not the law,
Nobody fares well, so they want old law back.

However the rulebook of old is lost.
Common sense now too far past is post.

The Paraffin One

2014-10-02 12:00 am

Upon the throne, no one will falter,
No deeper prose, nor dragon exalted.
Asia proceeds onward in laughter,
For the west has loans now defaulted.
Conceding mass fortune to misspent wealth,
Preferring concert above eating well,
Discoursing doctors say priority on health,
Referring to a disease that fell,
Not preventative well being.
Nor representative of the well read,
For mass appeal is just seeing.
The senses infinite within a small thread,
Only known to those rolling with laughter,
Callused so thick they survive the rapture.

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 Paraffin One

2014-09-25 12:00 am

Empty Silence tops a rattle of chain,
A whores horse then tries to evade.
To no avail, assailants fear no pain.
Those that must then ply their trade.
Grasping flail, to no avail legitimate,
For none is literate in God.
Often assumption made inconsiderate,
For law cares not if grass is sod.
That said, what lies here is often not.
Opinion tends to be but a clod tempest,
Consensus leaning toward an insane plot,
Mass opine religion of uneducated priest.

Green reds now shake with blue collars.
Only masons of insured welfare collard'.

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

2014-09-04 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.

Gord

2014-09-02 12:00 am

I transform retribution,
I collide with an enemy,
Destined for fusion,
Corroding my memory,
Crashing the computer,
That is me.

I open on pretense false,
In hopes to gain my loss,
Yet no fate goes uncrossed,
No face goes on unmarked,
No bullet grazes,
They self aim and kill marks.

In honesty,
I hope for their retribution,
Not believing what you do,
I find no institution for truth,
Investigations reveal soot.
To conceal boots under sock.
Truth should be implied,
Secrets shouldn't even be whispered,
When no secret knock is employed.

Among Imperials, two faces clash,
Destroying the child middle,
Purpose born was to protect class.
Among the tyrants, 
A sleeping dog,
His brother opposite,
A sleeping god, 
Purpose forlorn and meaning lost.
Shoot the gun across, regardless,
Trees grow from the river,
Implying a garden should exist.

Yet at the bottom I find no solace.
No mythical beast of which to conquer,
Nor mythical flower of to tame beasts.
So no feast among mythical followers.
Sewn feet no longer bother to move.
Brooms no longer even bother to sweep.

I see Cost front by the citizen,
Expected which are also to clean.
Past participle's partisan cuts so cleanly,
No partisan is left opposite to thee.
Clearly, No god laughs,
Sincerely, No god falters,
And no human shots cast,
Except into human carnage.

No gain for loss,
No pyrrhic victory,
Due course.
No force of sympathy,
homeopathy, anthropology,
from the horse.
No, mostly poor choices.
Voices ringing with phones dead.

No voices in his head,
Scream morality.
of course.
No soldier gains a victory.
sans cost.
None recognize the courage,
of Hailey's comet.
So the gunfire blazes onward.

Amongst the slain, are the slain.
Those who shoot have bullets same.
My Deschamps is but modified Spinoza,
Which I modify to fit in holster,
As exactly as I imagined her,
Far above a reasonable caliber.
For a man who lacks resources,
For as a woman he lacked chorus,
Pestilence amongst the formal courtships.

How do we create such a melody?
Such harmony of utter melancholy.
How do we classify such insanity?
Such discourtesy on our society.
Such, bullets access and exit quickly.
Thus is the mark of beasts.
Thus a heart no longer beats.

Almost lack of mention was lack of faith.
Remembered and forgotten to become same.
All lost the castles of old days,
Only sandcastles remain standing,
Reminder of temporary management,
Of how well that pays.

I depart to vent,
Find myself post-traumatic,
I start to mention,
Find myself post-dramatic,
I mark myself bent,
Find myself post dragging.
Hoping to move forward,
Forgetting that lost in battle.

I sigh,
I realize that's not possible.
I stand purportedly screaming peace,
Screaming bullets purportedly corpse.
I stand in face of uproarious force,
Screaming should-haves,
Scoring for would-have,
Who now will manage.

Tired, I cast aside,
Casting stones seems now juvenile.
Especially in a world this finite,
Who needs to choir for killing time?
Button press' jest as being less vile,
Truth as masked chide,
Who now will bandage?

Gord

2014-08-28 12:00 am

How do we create such a melody?
Such harmony of utter melancholy.
How do we classify such insanity?
Such discourtesy on our society.
Such, bullets access and exit quickly.
Thus is the mark of beasts.
Thus a heart no longer beats.

Almost lack of mention was lack of faith.
Remembered and forgotten to become same.
All lost the castles of old days,
Only sandcastles remain standing,
Reminder of temporary management,
Of how well that pays.

I depart to vent,
Find myself post-traumatic,
I start to mention,
Find myself post-dramatic,
I mark myself bent,
Find myself post dragging.
Hoping to move forward,
Forgetting that lost in battle.

I sigh,
I realize that's not possible.

Gord

2014-08-21 12:00 am

No gain for loss,
No pyrrhic victory,
Due course.
No force of sympathy,
homeopathy, anthropology,
from the horse.
No, mostly poor choices.
Voices ringing with phones dead.

No voices in his head,
Scream morality.
of course.
No soldier gains a victory.
sans cost.
None recognize the courage,
of Hailey's comet.
So the gunfire blazes onward.

Amongst the slain, are the slain.
Those who shoot have bullets same.
My Deschamps is but modified Spinoza,
Which I modify to fit in holster,
As exactly as I imagined her,
Far above a reasonable caliber.
For a man who lacks resources,
For as a woman he lacked chorus,
Pestilence amongst the formal courtships.