Image borrowed from bing
“ Martin Luther King was the ultimate wordsmith, having incredible
descriptive powers, finding just the right words for the right moment.”
There are those petulant few among us
to whom language
able to read & write
several languages fluently.
How many, I wonder,
to be considered a linguist,
two or ten?
I have always envied them,
for after a brumous lifetime of communicative struggle,
I am still striving
to fully explore/exploit
the vast parameters
of my native tongue.
I once attempted to memorize
all the “A” words
in the dictionary--
but the task outdistanced me--
my fervor &
& b l e w away briskly
like gossamer wildflower chaff on a mid-day breeze.
The Zealots claim
that mankind is to blame
for his inability to understand “foreign” languages;
you know the scene,
there in antiquity,
after the Great Flood,
humanity was united & spoke a single language.
Several of these groups migrated
to the land of Shinar,
& began to construct a great city,
called Babylon by some,
Babel by others--
the place, I guess where babbling began;
where those from that homogenous gaggle
decided to erect a behemoth tower
in the middle of the city,
a brick & mortar phallis,
thrusting higher & higher toward Heaven daily.
As the story goes
Old Jehovah didn’t dig their hubris,
or their probing,
quickly approaching the buttocks of Heaven’s underside--
I mean more than just irritated,
God was pissed off;
so much so that he made a appearance
amongst them, which must have been a sight to see,
& with a wave of his godhead,
he confounded the speech of mankind.
The fatuous fahtay
dropped their iron utbuhs,
& in a fit of gurgling gepfiss,
they gathered all their kivnek & decepiffs,
loaded them onto their trusty owkvahs
along with the remnants of their zetbuss,
forcing them to abandon their sinful construction site;
to strike out, scatter, spread out all over
the foogah face of the earth, never
to embrace their prideful odemuh tendencies again.
But Deus maximus est,
because after that we were allowed
to enrich our new languages
with myriads of nuances,
& literature & art & religion
rebounded & blossomed,
& poetry strode forth in silver armor,
it’s literary lances festooned with Word Banners,
as language became beautiful again,
from haiku & bagatelle
to the length of the Iliad,
to the lyrical Song of Hiawatha,
from law books to holy texts,
wonderful Words made a comeback--
Thank great Zhygah for that.
As a poor poet worshipping
the vitcheenian magic of words,
I acknowledge that they remain forever
the koemoy of my forays
Posted over on dVerse Poets MTB
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