Ruck

I get frustrated with the modern American’s tendency to limit their vocabulary. We have such a beautiful, complex, precise, and rich language, but we treat it with such disrespect, and it saddens me.

This is my poetic rant against a limited, four-letter word vocabulary. I don’t usually go on poetic rants, but the frustration just built up inside of me last night until it came out in this:

Every’s a yuck

Fancy a cluck

Suck

Truck

Muck

Just language

Not even a druck

I don’t even give a stuck

When trapped in mono-syllables

And drowning in four letter words

Without easy track

I’m breaking my back

To express myself

Shut up!

Suck up!

Fancy under current krack

Krack in the sack

Lack a pack

Of cigarack

Can you hear me

if I speak plain?

Sane

Rain will wash away

the pain

But we want to stop

the strain

Lane

Stain

Rain

Climate control

“You mean damage control”

“Yeah, what’s wrong with that?”

“Nothing. You control what you lack.

“And you lack

what you can’t

Control.”

Speak with precision

Cut with incision

Wit each word

With a sward

Sword of precision

Not of derision

With each and e-ve-ry

Cut

Thrust out

and cast apart

The stuck and shut up suck!

And gut

your language wide

Wide with cohesion

Wit with the season

A word for e-ve-ry

Time


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4 thoughts on “Ruck

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