WHAT DO YOU READ, MY LORD?

There is probably much that could be said,
a bit less that should be said, but I
I’m not the person to say it, and remain silent.
You are surprised by the silence — it is
not what you expect of me, and that
you find disconcerting and a bit unnerving.
If I asked you what you would have me say,
I doubt you could find anything in particular.
It is more the sound of my voice you expect,
not the words I choose to utter or retain.
It all comes down to words, doesn’t it?
And yet they fail us with such regularity,
we each must wonder why we speak at all.

A PLACE OF MONOLOGUES

The cemetery is a place of monologues,
family histories laid bare, admissions,
secrets long kept hidden finally revealed
You must listen carefully, for the voices
speak only in hushed tones,
befitting both place and circumstance.
There is no dialog, no riposte, no
response for in this place, that
would be put of place, censorious,
Thy are respectful, one speaking,
a pause, then the next, and time
seems meaningless to them, the tale
is all that still matters, and matters deeply.
Pause, if you will, and learn, but say
nothing for we dare not speak
ill of the dead.

TMI

He lived in a world of acronyms. He hated them. He knew they were ubiquitous and becoming more so. Modern discourse, some said, couldn’t happen without them, since modern discourse didn’t involve people speaking words, but devices interacting. Though how a PDA could be LMAO was beyond him. Still he knew all about FIFO and APR’s, not to mention his interactions with SSA about his SSI. But he knew, above all else, that the reliance on these instruments would always have one fatal flaw, and that was best summed up by the only acronym he thought remotely justified: GIGO, for that was what left everything FUBAR.

WORDS

He is looking for words. There are no words. He feels he needs to say something. There are no words. He feels deep pain. There are no words for his deep pain. Many are speaking. There are no words to speak. Everyone is looking for words. There are no words. Everyone wants to say something. There are no words to say. Everyone fears the silence. There are no words in silence. He accepts the silence. He stops looking for words.

BY JOVE

In a Jovian moment
Luna paused her wanderings
and sat patiently above the trees
that stare down on the street.
You know they are speaking, want
very much to listen in
on their conversation, but
the birds are busy singing
their evening songs, and pay
neither moon nor planet
the attention that they are due.
Soon enough Luna recommences
her nightly trek across the sky,
while Jupiter stands still
a moment longer, enjoying
his starring role
in this nights heavenly show.