The decaying mansions of English language Rot and recede into teenage grasses with each unspoken year
The hired help have left their hair unmown and surrendered their uniform dress Content with the neglect of nature taking its timely course
When the architects and master masons of linguistics Survey their forgotten plans in the heaven of English literature They are not dismayed but patiently sit and sit
The pristine edifices of the classics Once grand and clad in deferential brick Stand scaffolded and unread The doors unlocked, ajar and hopelessly inviting Into the library of the English canon The dusty cloak on the carpets of grammar Sheets thrown over the disused armchairs of archaic words Echoing the plink of the out-of-tune pianoforte of the perfectly crafted short story Bathrooms of formal poetry With the rusty plumbing of metre and rhyme
Whereas the temporary outhouses, hastily arranged huts of slang and idiom are adorned by the living grasses of new forms, creepers of half remembered dreams mulching leaves of half formed thoughts forests of half forgotten loves writhing in living incompleteness Which will in turn harden and fossilize
And we can then rue the passing of our once organic lingo