Under My Sofa

War of Words

We are prepared
We daub our tongues with war paint
And turpentine to show restraint
Colourful words to speak our beliefs
And blank canvases to receive
We blink and notions climb the rungs of our eyelashes
Synonyms slip softly from sharp lips
Sparks of knowledge crackle at our fingertips
Beating drums resound through burning bones
Vivid eyes and painful tones
Sibilance syringe-shooting into our skin
Addiction for answers starts to kick in
A child coughs, spraying paint, and so it begins
Idioms and idealism etch tattoos into our chests
And we know in our hearts the truth is where these lines intersect
Language seeps from our pores and comes to rest
In pools of knowledge at our feet
We have everything we need
And conversation supersedes
The war that misunderstanding breeds
The red words gained when a person bleeds
We smear ourselves with the colours of the rainbow
With colours we don't even know
A spectrum of metaphors and blunt reality
We fight peacefully to the best of our ability
Civilised swords slash at each other's opinions
We listen, but only so that their paint can splatter onto blank paper
And we can turn it back and show them they're wrong
It's a humming, violent sort of song
So bright and light it burns out our minds
Leaving no cotton wool cobwebs behind
Paint drips from our lips and burns through our chest
Putting long discussed issues to rest
Swirling the colours into a beautiful mess
Acidic sharpness
Dissolving distress
Debate may not endure
But it is just a better form of war

***

I'm sorry, it feels like I'm not posting much (even though it's like every day) and when I do I'm not proud of what I've written.

I really don't know why, I think it's just because so many people are reading this, and I didn't expect that, and now I'm afraid of disappointing you all.

So, another poem about words... Is this counterintuitive? Probably.

Again, I'm sorry.

Alex xxx