To Words
Some words creak
Crushed under all the weight we seek
To put onto them, in their semiotics, weak
Some words are stretched taut
With all the meanings stuffed, seams shot
Into small casings crammed, between ends knot
Some words are prisms
Multifaceted and refractive, light schisms
Pinned in place by a plethora of perspectives, frissons
Some words are prison
Policed and surveilled, perimeters patrolled, in division
Gates kept behind bars, locked under load, under supervision
Some words burst
Fractal under disparate, desperate definitions, blurst
Spiral out in dizzying furls of delineation, curling, cursed
Some words groan
Graceless under too much strain, the stone
All the contradictions they can't contain alone
Some words transform
Reinvent, contract, sling themselves into slang, reform
Redefine and realign, reclaim the deviation from the norm
Some words wince
Scurry away, shamed at what their cruelty hints
Only to return, under the thin guises tin whistles evince
Some words associate
Are sociable, congregate with context, negotiate
Until - obscured under cumulative connection - dissolve, dissociate
Some words moan and stutter
Morbid with tragedies too large to utter
In syllable; so they whisper, shriek, scream and mutter
Some words waste away
Underfed, undernourished, cliche
Meaningless, unsure of their purposeful existence, decay
Some words whine
So entitled to luxury, to dining fine
They forget to reveal themselves in time
Some words rhyme
In juxtaposition, might justify a crime
If not in transgression, subversive in sign
Some words are rendered thin
Wound around themselves and back again
Starved for want of places to haunt with their sin
Some words rot
On vine, in bin, over time
Become putrid and die toeing the line
Some words wound
Pierce our veils, our skins, our defenses subsumed
Viciously delivered arrows to the heart of the doomed
Some words heal
Gently and gracefully intoned to feel
Restore us, the aching hole in our breast seal
Some words slide
Slick as anything, glide
Their frayed net cast too wide
Some words inspire
In joyful effervescence, in pyre
Entreat and enjoin, elicit in expression a fire
Some words enrage
Trigger traumas, angers of the grieving stage
Such are the linguistic wages of pen we wage
Some words do all our heavy lifting
Sort the silt from the sea, and in the sifting
Sever notes from plucked string; as a craft from shore, drifting
© inkcloud
Crushed under all the weight we seek
To put onto them, in their semiotics, weak
Some words are stretched taut
With all the meanings stuffed, seams shot
Into small casings crammed, between ends knot
Some words are prisms
Multifaceted and refractive, light schisms
Pinned in place by a plethora of perspectives, frissons
Some words are prison
Policed and surveilled, perimeters patrolled, in division
Gates kept behind bars, locked under load, under supervision
Some words burst
Fractal under disparate, desperate definitions, blurst
Spiral out in dizzying furls of delineation, curling, cursed
Some words groan
Graceless under too much strain, the stone
All the contradictions they can't contain alone
Some words transform
Reinvent, contract, sling themselves into slang, reform
Redefine and realign, reclaim the deviation from the norm
Some words wince
Scurry away, shamed at what their cruelty hints
Only to return, under the thin guises tin whistles evince
Some words associate
Are sociable, congregate with context, negotiate
Until - obscured under cumulative connection - dissolve, dissociate
Some words moan and stutter
Morbid with tragedies too large to utter
In syllable; so they whisper, shriek, scream and mutter
Some words waste away
Underfed, undernourished, cliche
Meaningless, unsure of their purposeful existence, decay
Some words whine
So entitled to luxury, to dining fine
They forget to reveal themselves in time
Some words rhyme
In juxtaposition, might justify a crime
If not in transgression, subversive in sign
Some words are rendered thin
Wound around themselves and back again
Starved for want of places to haunt with their sin
Some words rot
On vine, in bin, over time
Become putrid and die toeing the line
Some words wound
Pierce our veils, our skins, our defenses subsumed
Viciously delivered arrows to the heart of the doomed
Some words heal
Gently and gracefully intoned to feel
Restore us, the aching hole in our breast seal
Some words slide
Slick as anything, glide
Their frayed net cast too wide
Some words inspire
In joyful effervescence, in pyre
Entreat and enjoin, elicit in expression a fire
Some words enrage
Trigger traumas, angers of the grieving stage
Such are the linguistic wages of pen we wage
Some words do all our heavy lifting
Sort the silt from the sea, and in the sifting
Sever notes from plucked string; as a craft from shore, drifting
© inkcloud
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