A harvest of words

The acronyms pile up, leavened

by jargon, words that tumble

and choke from mouths if not

minds, words meant to impress

or intimidate or prevail because

it’s all a competition, isn’t it?

Isn’t it. The words shroud

the value of the work, hiding

what matters, the urgent always

overwhelming the important.

We flash them on screens,

generated from decks which

used to be what we called the floors

of boats or a collection of cards

for a game of chance and luck,

not a collection of slides designed

to explain or convince or illumine.

I imagine Lincoln saying it is

management of the talent,

by the talent, for the talent and

it sticks in the ear as more

than slightly ridiculous. We

reap our harvest of words,

the weeds and the tares mixed in,

unseparated and undigested.

Our bellies remain empty.

This poem is submitted to Open Link Night at dVerse Poets. The see more poems, please visit dVerse Poets. The links will be live at 2 p.m. Central time today.

Photograph: Business Word by Anna Cervova via Public Domain Pictures. Used with permission.