W O RD S

My letter to my letters.

I let the beauty linger from my tongue. 

Let the words run wild and free, young, and whatever else it means to be.

I can hold a sentence hostage

I can be the boldest of the bold, making the noisiest of noises.

Loud and banging, lounge or pavement. 

Soft to hard, the ratio is never truly met.

So I let the nouns dry wet.

Hang verbs up in the 2nd or 3rd.

Dust them off for the 4th and thats my word.

If you don't believe me, read the quotes of old. 

Let them tell you that words are written for the heart and not the soul.

My words are written for the brain. 

For my minds function to remain semi sane.

Just enough to get me through the weeks and months. Until that time that I can release

and be as unencumbered as I want. 

As vagrant as my thoughts allow.

To make the art of my beings passion. 

The winds of my vernacular roll about, to and from, dull dueling with spectacular.

I save the best for a courtship,

and the worst for a courts trip. 

A smith by any other name wouldn't be as true. 

A word by any other comparison wouldn't be as new.

So I let them roll from mine.

Let them linger through your psyche.

I let them do things that others wouldn't.

I let them play movies in your imagination.

I let them let you like me

I let the l e t t e r s control.

I let the patter of the keys console.

We need them.

Some lust for them

Others say they love them.

I am them.