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Words Are Cheap
Words are cheap.
Can cheapen and demean.
Meaningless they flow
Flow as cheap wine
And as sour,
They have bitter taste,
Bitter as gall,
And as galling.
Spat out rat a tat tat
They fall from rancid mouths,
dropp on to barren soil.
Ah words they can slide slowly with care,
Red and fleshy from honeyed lips.
The serpent tongued temptress
Who drips poison in the ear.
Words shouted from the chorus
The strident clamour of the crowed.
The swelling cheer that vibrates the bone.
The chatter of those who fear silence
Who fill the passing hour with endless words.
Ah yes words are cheap
But at what price are they bought?
poem
by
Paul Brookes
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