Watch and fear the longer words when clipped versions and knotted literacy will do. Consider thy audience or thy words will sail back to thy breast as if in a mirror, and all the petitions will be for mowt. *Pause for drink* There is a place for dictionary thumpers, words that could line a canary cage and wrap around an elephants arse but they can be much like the artist who tries to be 'weird' just for the sake of it and endeth up simply babbling incoherently to himself. Careful there! Whoa!!
The, what do you call it? The 'Text Speak' hath turned the masses mute from sensible words and I fear now that pure gibberish might be the best language to proceed with when you desire to get a point accros. I Iz cwl, Socrates be swagging wit da tribes ya! Chillax mon, haterz be hatin, wryterz be yakkin lyk da priests o' rap, wurdz! Dear me! I can hear my chum Dante, 'il Sommo Poeta' (the Supreme Poet), sobbing into his Magner's & black, poor chap! Oh sad Alighieri! Most foul his pangs of pain toward the loss of language (and last bottles of cider).
"At words end
the iPhone stretches
that Wordsworth tongue
and boldly snaps its vintage spine."
© Steven Francis poems 2012
****Eyes up the bar****
Oh aye, due to the sport thats being played currently, I think it time to drop a few words about winning. The failure of some teams (including Greece BAH!)at a recent football competition was due to the misguided belief that passion is all you need. Balderdash sez I! Passion alone will never bring victories to the bay. Wild boys can certainly take the helm but to be wholly in successes it takes the silver artichects and sanders of plans. PLAN LADS! PLAN! Brute force could never be a worthy champion to patience, guile and nifty plots. You need 'em all!
Well done those wily Spaniards.
*Lifts another drink*
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