Language is not our friend

Writing poems again... and more convinced than ever that language is not our friend. Writing poetry is like... fighting the enemy from within. Somebodies gotta do it... I don't know where I am anymore... as if I ever did. Making poems, one can be seduced into thinking one is "saying something"... perhaps, useful, revolutionary, hopefully--destructive. All that may be true. And more... touching heart to heart is not a bad thing. Making visual "art" (stilll using the scare quotes) ... my own uselessness rises up and shouts at me, curses me... the reality is beyond rationalization or defense... certainly not, any defense I could put into WORDS... those lying parasites that eat away at life! See. see what is there, and what is not. See! Touch! Feel! Smell! Do! Make! ... and shut the fuck up