This Thing We Do with Words:

(the reprise)…Dedicated to Anastasia, Suki, (and, well…you…)

We build bridges
from island to island
one word, one stone at a time.
We build monuments and temples
to Love and Lust,
Adventure and Power.
We can spin webs of intrigue
like giant subterranean spiders
with words artfully applied
and patterns beautiful to see
as Love seduces Logic
and Romance beguiles all Reason.
And tell tall tales
of days of old
of arts arcane and esoteric,
from ransom notes to love letters
charters, pacts and treaties.
A poem, a love letter and a plea for rescue,
a note wrapped up in a bottle,
flung into a sea of humanity,
awaiting reply
from my private island of exile
to you.
We can wax eloquently and long,
or we can get write down
and dirty.
Isn’t it such a beautiful thing
that we can do?
…this thing we do with words?
…free to be whatever we wish to be,
or be whatever you wish we were.
(I can be very flexible that way, you know)
Anonymous sex with words
spewed from invisible mouths
by mysterious lips and tongues
in a bathhouse of like-minded
wordsmiths.
When you touch me
I create you
in the most flatteringly imaginative ways
in my own image
and never worry about overstepping either’s bounds
because honey,
If you only knew what things I do
To and With You with words,
and in our minds,
in real life,
it might be hard
to ever stopping slapping my face.
But in This Life,
trusting in the fact that whatever it is,
I will cheer you on,
and vise-versa
Mon Cheri.
You have Carte Blanche
Chez mois….
(And trust me, I doubt that it violates any rules I know…)
but then again,
that pretty much leaves you free
to be with me as you please,
Madame Weasel…
meet Mister Weasel.
In my mind, your bottom is perfect
in your mind, every part is just right.
And everything is exactly the
the way we like it,
In My Perfect World.
While we do this thing we do with each other
with words.
We can touch each other so intimately
in such private places
deep within our psyches
with visions of forbidden acts
too emotionally dangerous
to allow,
except within our deepest
recesses
kept locked away in a dirty basement
beneath a haunted house
inside (y)our soul(s).
It’s Better Than Sex
only because it really isn’t,
but imagining what it Is in each other’s minds
each according to our own inferences
means that at least fifty percent
of what we get
is what we bring to this picnic.
Because there’s always more
inside this thing we do with words.
Mass media meets social networking
begetting Art
in a mad orgy of
words and thoughts
both sacred and profane.
Noble and Lofty
meats
Down and Dirty.
Spiritual and Ethereal
do a minuet
with
Finite and Practical,
making Voyeurs into Voyagers
and Fellow Travelers
of us all.
This thing we do with words,
My F(r))iend
allows us to span continents, universes
and alternate realities
in an instant that is less than an instant
that arrives before it leaves
and never stops coming
(or cumming).
This thing we do with words
spoken with love
will one day
teach us to love our enemies
once we realize
We all are one.
So even if you say
“FUCK YOU!”
I can either take it as a compliment,
an enticement,
or just smile like I do when I watch a
monkey jacking off at the zoo.
We all are One.
So thanks for the handjob.
We can praise or we can criticize,
condone, or condemn.
We can teach, touch, (p)reach and multiply
and be bountiful
and all it costs
is the price of baring your soul
and opening your eyes and your mind
and inviting me in,
be I vampire
or Pilgrim
fallen angel,
or
grateful worshipper,
or referee
for that fight you’ve been having
with yourself in your mind.
I am here for you
my friend
my sister
my mother
my mentor
my co-conspirator,
fellow prankster
and lover.
I love this thing we do with words…
If I had to do it all over again
I’d do it all over you.

Namasté
नमस्ते
Chazz Vincent
© 05/31/2023
“Sukhino Bhava (सुखिनोऽभव)”