they’re a siren’s call to mystery and intrigue
laced with meanings from a special colleague
coded words that creep into conversations
secrets exchanged between rival nations
words so fraught with hidden meaning
can also contain something demeaning
peeling away layers of deep mistrust
that if decoded could easily combust
turning a questionably civilized society
into a maelstrom of vicious impropriety
100 words –
Let’s shoot the breeze and spill the beans until the cows come home. We can pig out on a piece of cake and do the Aztec two-step in a public velodrome.
It doesn’t always take an ace up your sleeve to deceive, you can make people believe you’re the next best thing to sliced bread, if you use your head. It’s all systems go when you have a bird in hand for a one-night stand.
Just go along for the ride when people think your snide, don’t hide. Slang is here to stay – like rock and roll – it isn’t going away.
100 words –
I’ve heard last words that sear my soul. Cries from dying comrades calling for their mother, as their lifeblood soaked a jungle floor in a meaningless war.
In the movies the hero always says something brave and fine with their last words before closing their eyes and meeting eternity and inspiring the viewer in spite of their grief, that their death wasn’t in vain.
Such noble sentiment seldom occurs in the real world where last words are more likely to be “No!” or, “Too soon!” But to be fair, there is a fair share that say, “I love you too.“
I am a writer.
I record human successes, failures, and follies.
I’ve been writing since Mesopotamia was the cradle of civilization in 3100 BC.
My words can be found scribbled in the earliest Egyptian hieroglyphics, and ancient Mesoamerican mounds.
I’ve been called Petrarch, Aristotle and Plato. My words have brought down mighty countries, and inspired people to die for freedom. Ships were sunk and castles stormed to protect my words of wisdom and hope.
Names are meaningless to me. I have to change mine every century.
You can find my deepest thoughts written in the Indus script of the Bronze Age in ancient India.
I’ve written lists on papyrus using the Phoenician alphabet, and carved scripts like the Runes into stone tablets, using their complex Cyrillic alphabet.
My name changes with every culture. Every era. Egyptians once called me Ptahhotep, and the early summerians called me Enheduanna.
I was William Shakespeare, Thomas Jefferson, Ernest Hemingway, J.R.R. Tolkien, John Steinback, Charles Dickens, Fyodor Dostoevsky.
Words weave picture stories like Mark Twain’s Adventures of Huckleberry Finn, and Tom Sawyer. Words written by influential visionaries, like George Orwell, warn of future dangers.
My mission is to record it all. To give every culture, and nation, a voice. A history.
Words can be worth their weight in gold. They should not be used as weapons. Instead, words should be used to guide civilizations, and bring order to chaos.
Words separate mankind from all the other life forms on earth.
The ability to read words from our past gives us insight into who we are now. What mistakes our predessors made can be recorded as future warnings.
Likewise, many of the things our ancestors did right, are still right today.
Every civilization has a story to tell, and writers to save it for posterity. Words are building blocks that create firm foundations for all nations. They should be used wisely.
The gods are watching…
As It Stands, writing has always calmed my soul, regardless of the subject.
Author. Writer. Adventurer.
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