WORDS, WORDS, WORDS

Who am I to deface the page?

And paint the trees,

With a human trace

To destroy and distort,

To mark and perverse,

To change the world

With a brush and a stroke.

What is discourse but white noise?

History is propaganda

Poetry deceitful

Fiction, a distraction for those who are mindful.

Prose is but a pose

to distract a decoy

Verse – a song

to hypnotize their virtues

So is langue, parole and parley,

Words, words, words, that we say

And it is so that we define meaning,

A construct of the mind,

it is what we believe

yet not what we stand behind.

The power of words lay in themselves,

Godly little beings who defy all else

who command and shape, they control your mind

and lead you down, and down, and down,

the hole,

As they lead you down, line, by line, by line,

the whole.

 Who am I to wield such power?

unconquered by my own worldly desires

and so, I ask again, and again,

never to have an answer stand

Who am I to deface the page?

A slave to the master under the stars,

Yet the greatest power of all,

The space between – the unspoken words.