Once upon a time there was

Dev Virahsawmy

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