language is a virus

angelic dust 

frontline of a lead presence

dissolving 

in a final breath

creeps in hours,

hangs in our heads

surrounds us in death

unconsciousness by order, 

violent rules impregnate

 pushes us back

to recognize disorder and chaos

utopy in revelry

breaks through ancient scenery, 

leads to subvert 

this crazy fluid reality

Do we speak of words, or do words speak for us?

What do words say or how they say it?

shall we use insightful words 

to praise a wonderland world 

or shall we gather our friends 

to instead

question authory/ and think for ourselves

we can descontruct

media constructed fallacies 

under insidious words of war 

phrase our ethics 

give ourselves to others, dancing 

to the intimacy of our own words

Burroughs once said,

"language is a virus, 

that someone or something out of this world spread through us"

Words get interesting 

when we twist 

and revolve it

into new meanings

I strive to believe 

that words can be real and stand for things

But honestly i believe more and more 

that they re just noise that we made up, 

it's the rhythm, the rhyme, the metric, the intention

that gives them life.

Kerouac for instance, 

wanted to transmit the rhythm of the bebop jazz sax and would write in one breath like the sax player.

making only pauses at the proper rhythm. for that reason reading where important for the beat poets.

was all about the rhythm of words, which would a whole different meaning to it's essence