Once upon a time there was
In sweet Heavenly Babel
King-Tongue, almighty king-god;
You could see him everywhere,
Not only in evil mouth.
See him there in high office
Demonstrating lusty life;
In cabinet, parliament
And corridors of power,
Poking terrific tongue-tip
Into the great holes of fame
Licking, sucking and slapping;
Whipping, walloping, pumping …
Worse O worse, he was noisy!
A real pain in … eardrums.
Little girl from Kafurnom
Brought down the old, built the new.
Hear grammarless polyglot,
Clicking, mincing and mumbling;
Sinking instead of thinking;
Sitting instead of shitting;
Pissing instead of piecing;
Thank that sank and thick that’s sick!
Little girl from Kafurnom
Brought down the old, built the new.
Hear god-Tongue being worshipped
In bold inchoate blabber
Dipped in solid stammer.
Hear double-tongued apostles
(Apostates, turncoats as well)
Of Lord and Master mouthing
Some ill-digested clichés
Robbed of rules and savoir-faire.
Little girl from Kafurnom
Brought down the old, built the new.
Great devotees of King-Tongue
Religiously put thumbprint
To sign; used symbols to vote
– Voted for keys, cocks and sun;
For candles and betel leaves;
Repeated empty mantras
In far away alien tongues.
They claimed to be god-fearing,
God-loving and god-serving;
Could not read the holy books
But kissed the Book holily.
Little girl from Kafurnom
Brought down the old, built the new.
They spoke Sanskrit, Dravidian,
Latin, Ancient Greek, Hebrew,
Esperanto, Volapük,
Franglais and Madam-Sere,
Yet were not articulate
In their own native language.
Little girl from Kafurnom
Brought down the old, built the new.
In the Kingdom of King-Tongue
Quality had no value;
Quantity was what was sought:
Many words in one language
Was a road to disaster;
One word in multiple tongues
Was ticket for Holy Wood.
Semi-lingual polyglots
Were recruited for all posts
For they were well-qualified
In forked-tongued smatteringism
And the laws were adamant:
Phonemes, lexis and syntax
Paved the way to damnation.
Little girl from Kafurnom
Brought down the old, built the new.
All went on well without fuss
Until one day a girl from
Kafurnom, a small village,
Hearing a voice from nowhere,
Declared that King-Tongue was
Wrong. Sweet Heavenly Babel
Must change, rethink and rebel.
Articulation, grammar
And semantics must replace
Outright smatteringism.
“Blasphemy and Heresy!”
Shouted all tongue-advocates,
Honest, true-blue worshippers.
Polinn Kozparol, the girl
From Kafurnom stood her ground.
She sowed the seeds of new life
And that didn’t please King-Tongue,
His sycophants and cronies.
They planned murder and they nailed
Her on a turning chakra.
That was the end? No, no, no.
Only a great beginning!
For the seeds burst into bloom
And soon all trees sang her songs;
All birds in the sky sang them;
Women and men all sang them;
Young and old as well sang them.
Sycophants and cronies too
Learnt them for fear of having
Their tongues cut, so brave were they.
There is now a pretty place,
“Sweet motherland of mine”
Where mind-boggling, tongue-twisting
Customs are forever gone;
Where children can laugh and play
And pretty dodos don’t die.
Little girl from Kafurnom
Brought down the old, built the new.
27.10.2017