Words are just carbon duplicates
of intertwined shapes to insinuate a specific instruction

Trying to make sense of it all, intricate complications seem to follow the very next sound

Wrapped in their secular meaning and internal definitions, we don't know the true pieces inside them

Does it mean light, dark, weird, crazy, confused, red, green, or gold?

Left, right, or upside down, who knows.
Its a guessing game of sorts. What do you see? Is it the same as me?

Linguistics interrupting unusual interceptions of crossing patterns within mixed mediums

See Jack Run, Red Fish, Blue Fish or 1,2,3
What does this all mean? Is it all free?

Signs of simple or insane complexities
surrounding mental restraints.
Turning the page, what do we see next?

Oh ok, now I get it !! Letters of different languages placed within the confines of a verbal, visual, or audible prison

"Call me Ishmael"

Language was created
So we could better understand eachother

And 5,500 years later
thats what we're still trying to do

If I could transcribe behind your eyes,
I’d see the times they’ve sunk and cried,
The shadows of pain you’ve held inside,
And all the needs you’ve been denied.

You don't speak much on heartache,
Or insecurities you can’t shake,
Breaches of trust, being treated unjust,
Are there fears left concealed, undiscussed?

If I could dive inside your lovely mind,
Swim through your veins, us intertwined,
I’d find exactly how your heart perceives,
Study the language your love receives.

Maybe it's the 'I love you's throughout the day,
Or these poems, though limited in what I can say,
Even a warm meal after work on a cold day,
Or perhaps it's those weekends we spent away.

Mapping responses to our conversations
And how you react to my love demonstrations
I’m looking for clues, all sorts of indications,
Fine tuning the way I love with my observations.

I’ll narrow in, long as you continue to share
Your reception of love–please make me aware,
For, finding your love language is all that I care,
I’ll express my love, I solemnly swear!

Language is a gably thing,
One can gister words as they go;
Cacophony of sounds we set meanings with,
Leaving me flummoxed every time I unwreathe.

Sesquipedalian, dollipling, mollycoddle
Do these quixotic words truly exist?
Wattucturic, rigmarole, dorizating
Naf, won’t tell you which is which.

Maybe words do not aim to bamboozle,
But some are just too choorlish to have been born;
Reminds me of how whimsical humanity is,
Passing on wanches that spell like these.

The magnitude of words,
   Invokes to each a different response
     Many use this power for evil,
       And release it among the unsuspecting seeds
         Still growing, now exposed to hatred.
           It is then that they will decide
             If their sentences will be in malice like theirs,
               Or if in their hearts, repairing the reputation
                 Of beautiful language, is a better use
Of speech

My technoscribbles haven't all cachet;
A mother hen on Friday farts an egg.
Even a swill of parlance has a say
When maple roadmaps varicose a leg.
A skinnydipping nakedest remote
Viewer that loons a dreaming skims a pond
Fractals a nascent green and gleimous note
Hanging athwart with someone's else's blonde.
Take heart.  The fish have lungs and breathe the air
Of a new day when everyfish can ***
With or without a whiff of underwear,
Though salty tears are sweetest under the sea.
Milfs are a pack of pickleballing hots
Playing to win a plate of tater tots.