Corruption

Like most any fall, it started out small,
And hardly anyone knew.
But it grew apace, as in a mad race,
And corruption quickly grew.
When some raised alarm, afraid of the harm,
Other folks scoffed and demurred,
Convinced nothing could change to bad from good---
So corruption altered our words.

Contractions came first, perhaps not the worst---
‘Stead of I should, we have I’d,
In place of I will, it’s I’ll we now trill---
Our language has slowly died.
And now we are left with words all bereft
Of harmony and rhythm,
Corruption, well-pleased, our language has seized,
And taken its beauty with him.

Our emotive speech, its cognitive reach,
Seem weaker every day,
Evaluative norms and directive forms 
Of language fall by the way.
We substitute slang for words that once rang
With clarion sounds so pure,
And pronounce each word so it sounds absurd,
A crime I strongly abjure.

I ask each of you, what are we to do,
To halt corruption so vile, 
Our words to restore to glory once more,
To end corruption’s sly guile?
Euphemisms reign, placing a huge strain
On clarity of speech and thought,
Unless we act soon, we’ll deal with the ruin
And havoc corruption has wrought.

Can we rally ‘round a cause so profound,
To seize our sweet language back
From corruption’s might?  Do we have the fight 
Left in us, or do we lack
The will to protect what corruption wrecked,
The high language Shakespeare penned?
This desecration of his creation
Is driving me ‘round the bend.

So please lend an ear, please listen and hear,
As I search out anglophiles
Who want to obtain our language again
In its original styles,
Who vow as they write, to use our words right,
To honour their glory great.
Only then, I think, will corruption slink
Away, and its evil abate. 

© J. Bradley Burt 2022