I shall tell the truth when I am dead.
Lies are for the living.
Jazz Vocalist | StoryTeller | Poet | Writer
I shall tell the truth when I am dead.
Lies are for the living.
Words don’t matter, that’s why we read them.
Turning the pages, dirtying our hands with dried ink of someone else’s words. Let me read your hands, so I can tell you of your past and maybe your future. ‘Once upon a time’. That’s how every fairytale starts. Once, we had, upon a time, something to say. Upon a time, once the words mattered.
But now, we have signs and symbols as replaced letters; as “lol” to “😆” (or is that “ 👁️ ❤️ to 😆?). If the letters don’t matter, where will the words go?
#TheLettersDon’tMatter
Hashtag.
Hash –
– Tag you’re it!
You are the ‘It’ pronoun. Undetermined. You say all the right things, as if answers are copied on your hands. Like a student cheating on a test, #YouTrytoCheatatLife. You have all the answers, with a Hashtag sealing your victory.
You win! You. Win. Your prize? An ampersand – fully spelled out.
Hashtag.
Tag –
– Hash!
I wanted to try it (hash), but you convincingly remind me of the last time I tried it (tag), painting the image of me stricken with the fear and paranoia. So instead, we drink hibiscus tea. Sitting side-by-side, our polite slurps the only sound, as we redefine a night out.
I wish I had chosen hash.
The words don’t matter. To Shakespeare they did. ‘Out damn spot, out’; ‘To be, or not to be’. ‘A rose by any other name…’
Shakespeare never used hash …or tags.