Words as Weapons
Is it communication we seek
a confession a tale a legend of truth
tone creates the truth greed hides innocence…
Letters form words, they are my fabric
So simple and unassuming, capture passion and emotions so consuming see me equally in any language time seeks to disguise me in interpretation only revealed once understood
without intent our languages we invent, emotions derived from their unbiased intent, without a tone the message sent
Letters called to action creating, our history and victories unbaiting, words to a sentence, truth anticipating, each side tells a story the winner persuading, right or wrong their agenda invading
So simple and innocent they may seem, express the plan of a social architects dream, change the landscape in an instant it may seem, to ones on the outside of the mightiest scheme, the powerful are right and control the dream
Words aligned with obedient care, on a blank page the equality begins and ends there, invented language our way to share, policies, laws and religions unfair, out of sight from social outcry no one left to care
Move us forward every advancement creeping, all the greatness and atrocities and horrific secrets keeping, locked away from the ones victimized forever seeking, truth buried alive historians left peeking
Words to a sentence the story can be tragic, yet the innocents of words as bullets remain my fabric
Words are Swords
Cry
How many times do stop living
Cowards do not die along
The path reveals many chances to lose…
I cry for the hearts left behind, not by fault or by design
over time decisions made are the endless parade of hurt
feelings leaving the weakened betrayed.
Is this how it is or is this how it feels living with the vision of someone’s hate
will never prove that the truth is revealed
Questions never asked can never tell if your intuition was theirs to sell
the answer is no until you ask and love unreturned never meant to last
it came so easy and left you so fast looking back
now you can see how the future you wished for was someone else’s past
One last smile before I leave is all I ask
the gift I will hold as long as memories last
with the emotions I am feeling right now
different stories begin to unfold
by each one seen, if everyone looking at the scene
the same one can never mean the same to all
one last smile and I will leave clean
Cry
R. William Standish is an aspiring writer and devoted father of three. After several years in the film and television industry in Canada, he has had the chance to meet some amazing people, travel, and experience things not for normal consumption. As a camera assistant and operator, he has been in the line of fire on many occasions and inside explosions and crashes, just to name a few incredible opportunities. He is the author of Chalk Outline These Thoughts, Chalk Outline These Thoughts, Vol. 2, The Secrets Men Keep, and most recently the poetry collection The Passion Hidden Within.
