Words are useless

The real miracle is 

You don’t need language 

Cos you’ve got words 

Words are splashes of faint

rude imaginary apprehension 

They caused the birth of time 

The death of innocence 

And the ides of March

Words bathe wounds 

Solicit alienation 

Dignify squalid miscellanies 

With approbation and glue 

The rent in the fabric 

Is realigned 

With metaphorical analysis 

Revealing hidden lay lines 

In the ontological geography 

Of sectarianism 

Imprinted like a screenplay

On the yellow deaf parchment

Of our souls 

Words invidious 

Scalpel sharp 

cut your lips 

Invisible teeth 

All those virgins 

Delicate Jelly fish 

On a skateboard 

To the beach 

Walk the liminal 

Ghostly dunes 

The real miracle is 

Words are useless 

Everyone a germ 

Ready to infect the victim 

With a lurid giddy hope

That magnifies perception 

Fulfills the avid dream state 

Conjugates demonic verve 

And pacifies the second self 

That’s the auteur secret 

Flowers rack with maggots

Devils give in rheum 

Once upon a habit 

The beadle and the spoon 

All on a magic carpet 

Flew to the spider moon. 

10/07/19