Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
Language can be used to unify representing our cultural groupings of religion, caste, region Language is power, the power to name It is the most potent instrument of culture Language is sweet tongued riddles in speech beautifully balanced rhythm in original language A widespread...language game A game with hidden rules: indigenous structures and rhythms referring by analogy to something else with hidden meanings which must be searched for Take our language away and We have fallen apart A foreign tongue will send tremors of fear into every heart “Oh Lord, save Thy people” The great Evil has come: Language of the small and elite the petty-bourgeoisie readership It has established a kind of presence It has created its own momentum. It doesn’t go anywhere. There’s nothing you can do with it to make it sing. It’s heavy. It’s wooden. A strategy of language manipulation The darkness drops again Translation is a battleground, mere anarchy loosened upon the world The neutralizing alternative interlanguage, mimicking A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun Take our language and our center cannot hold Things fall apart. Or construct the lens through which understanding takes place: What is it in your dialect? The result is incredible.
0
Apr 19, 2014
Apr 19, 2014 at 8:01 PM UTC
What is it in your Dialect?: A Cento
Language can be used to unify representing our cultural groupings of religion, caste, region Language is power, the power to name It is the most potent instrument of culture Language is sweet tongued riddles in speech beautifully balanced rhythm in original language A widespread...language game A game with hidden rules: indigenous structures and rhythms referring by analogy to something else with hidden meanings which must be searched for Take our language away and We have fallen apart A foreign tongue will send tremors of fear into every heart “Oh Lord, save Thy people” The great Evil has come: Language of the small and elite the petty-bourgeoisie readership It has established a kind of presence It has created its own momentum. It doesn’t go anywhere. There’s nothing you can do with it to make it sing. It’s heavy. It’s wooden. A strategy of language manipulation The darkness drops again Translation is a battleground, mere anarchy loosened upon the world The neutralizing alternative interlanguage, mimicking A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun Take our language and our center cannot hold Things fall apart. Or construct the lens through which understanding takes place: What is it in your dialect? The result is incredible.
Written by
Apr 19, 2014
Apr 19, 2014 at 8:01 PM UTC
Request permission to use this poem