brief thoughts on words
Through a series of intranet clicks I've discovered this poet, and I stare in wonder and awe at his command of the English language, as, it is one of my greatest desires to be like him. This need for linguistic mastery stems from a desire to have at least some thing to one up my fellow citizens. I will never be a swift sprinter nor will I win any feats of strength contest. I look at math with quizzical indifference, I still need to write basic equations down to effectuate solving, forget complex squiggles that require planes of whiteboard, and hallucinogenic-causing amounts of marker to solve. On the surface I understand humans, but I can't say I like them. Working with my fingers would drive my germaphoic, OCD tendencies nuts. Music, while glorious and not so far beyond my understanding, takes far too much effort for my procrastinatopn oriented mind. No, the path for me is paved with syntax and rhyme, description and emphasis - words. The power behind words is that to uplift, convey, destroy, sooth, create, rend, and the list is endless. It is a power I want, of course my ego cries for nothing else.
So, here, a sampling of words' awesome control.
Click to viewThis poem also touches on a memory of my grandmother, and one of her crazy fears about keys. She was ever so careful about who she gave keys to her home to because she didn't want just anyone walking into her house - normal fear, understandable. But here is were the fear turns for the worse: she knew for absolute certainty that she could only give the key to someone she knew would not lose the key, for she knew that if that non-descript key were to be lost in even the remotest of places, like the steppes of outer Mongolia, someone would find that key and know it was a key to her home, and because they are imbued with such insidious knowledge, they would travel half way around the world, if need be, just to break into her home and violate her. Such was the extent of my grandmother's fear.