We’re living in the shadows
of the towers of babble
waiting for the towers to fall,
hoping they won’t, knowing they will,
drowning in the cacophony
of billions of tongues
speaking millions of dialects
all at once, while no one listens,
asking questions no one answers,
giving answers no one hears:
madmen claiming to be geniuses
geniuses mumbling into madness
many a truth was said in jest
this was the joke that hoax built
the handwriting is scrawled upon the walls
but no one can read that dialect any more.
We built these towers thinking we were
building stairways to heaven
but the towers have turned upside down
paving the roads to hell with good intentions.
Joltin’ Joe has left and gone away,
the mailman doesn’t stop here anymore,
the answers are blowin’ in the wind,
but we’re too busy screaming at each other
to hear the answers whispered in our ears
I know all this but I am still compelled
to add my mumbles to the madness
hoping that someone might hear them
before the towers crumble
and the babbles obscure the truths
that hide between the lines,
ego driven until the very end.
© 2018 Alan M. Milner. All Rights Reserved.