Stupid Fucking Words

Never was a truer word spoken. Rearrange the words. Wrong-right, topsy-turvy… connotations. They will drive you insane, those words. They can mean anything. Far too flexible, the little bastards. Anything but straight out. Devious. Under-the-counter. Ambiguous, suggestive. You think fish are slippery? Get hold on a word.
What you say? What you say?
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Rectitude

Ah, Christ, how’s a knight to live, in these hard old times? A knight of words, nowadays, needless to say. Couldn’t wield a sword worth shit. Could have, maybe, wouldn’t have, probably. A dreamy knight, I would have been. A knight who writes poetry because he can’t turn his fucking brain off. He would have liked to turn it off; he would have wondered at the way the other knights did.
And nevertheless he would have killed. He would have done his duty. Take the salt, and do the duty. With reservations, but nonetheless. Protect his own, and kill the rest. Lucky bastard, got two children to his name, survived to this day. He loves them. So, he’d kill.
Or I’d have ended up a peasant, a churl.
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No, Maybe, Yes

I said no, I said maybe, I said yes
What’s the truth, who’s to tell, what the hell
You can’t say, try as you may
Nobody knows; oh well

But if I tried, and defied
The current of riot bastard thought
I could say, if I may
Everybody knows: it’s hell

And if words are blood
I’ll bleed, and bleed, in to it
Blood fills it up, heel to tit
No room anymore

It’ll spray the sky red
All that I’ve bled
Sunrise, sundowner
Gimme one more

Drink, gimme
Yes, fast
Maybe
No
.

 

Word is Virus

I’ve just infected you. I’ve planted an idea in your head. It doesn’t matter how big or small it is. I’ve influenced your mind. It doesn’t matter what I say, you can’t help listening. Stop reading. But even then, it is too late. This is what keeps authors writing. It’s the feeling of power. A single, a single, a single word can change the world. Now that is power. Fuck superheroes, fuck soldiers, they haven’t the slightest chance against ideas.
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