Words, Words Twaddle, 44

(We all dislike/hate certain words and locutions; here are some of mine.)

Daze End

“At the end of the day”—such a hideous phrase,

It’s the kind of locution that summons a daze.

I’ll invite you to join me—a trip to the woods,

Where the quicksand will surely deliver the goods.

As you slowly descend in this horrible way,

I will say that I’m loving the end of your day. 

Words, Words, Twaddle, 43

(We all dislike/hate certain words and locutions; here are some of mine.)

Cookout

The guy who puts “high-stakes” in front

Of every noun that he employs

Should very soon absorb the brunt

Of one of my especial joys.

Initially, I'll drug the guy,

Then take him to a barbecue,

Where he will be high steak—for I

Will broil the dude, yes, through and through. 

Words, Words, Twaddle, 42

(We all dislike/hate certain words and locutions; here are some of mine.)

On a Jag

“A mind-share opportunity!”

The boss announced to one and all.

The jaguar that I had with me

Then leaped toward his face. A pall

Fell on the conference room. The gore

Was everywhere—the room ran red. 

“Let's not forget what words are for”—

My jag just purred at what I said.

And now I am myself the boss;

My jag enforces all I say.

We never post a yearly loss—

Except the loss of all cliché. 

Words, Words, Twaddle, 41

(We all dislike/hate certain words and locutions; here are some of mine.)

Pusher

Lou had no wish to be a dope,

But hearing “push the envelope”

Come from the mouth of his new boss,

He grabbed a stick (he'd played lacrosse)

And whacked his boss across the head,

Who promptly fell—was quickly dead.

Lou burned remains in his back yard

(He didn't find it very hard),

Then thinking well (and filled with hope),

The ashes—in an envelope—

Lou pushed (a window, speeding train),

And felt that he was free again. 

Words, Words, Twaddle, 40

(We all dislike/hate certain words and locutions; here are some of mine.)

Loopy

“Let’s close the loop,” I heard you urge

And had a sudden urge to purge.

But saved myself (as if you care).

I built a scaffold in the square.

And thousands gathered—there you were,

Alarmed by what would soon occur.

I told the hangman with a whoop:

“Well, here’s the guy—now close the loop!”

**

Good news: Only 10 more of these!

Words, Words, Twaddle, 39

(We all dislike/hate certain words and locutions; here are some of mine.)

Line Up

He tried to make it all “align,”

Which on the surface seems just fine.

And so I put him on the rack

And turned the crank and heard a crack.

“Oh, ouch!” he cried. “What is your plan?”

“Adjusting your alignment, man.”

Words, Words, Twaddle, 38

(We all dislike/hate certain words and locutions; here are some of mine.)

In and Out

The “outcomes” came.

They freaked him out

I wondered, “What’s this all about?”

This teacher told me,

Short and plain:

“I wish I really could explain

How serious

The outcomes are.”

I didn’t let him go too far.

“I’m more concerned,”

I said to him,

“What we are teaching Jill and Jim.

For what comes out

We may not know—

Effects, you see, aren’t fast but slow.

And what goes in

Must mix with hearts

And minds and memories—other parts.

So what comes out

At first? Too soon—

An incomplete and hurried tune.

Some meals are best

When cooked on Low:

We need to trust the sure, the slow.”

Words, Words, Twaddle, 37

(We all dislike/hate certain words and locutions; here are some of mine.)

Wrong Flavor

“The flavor of the month,” you sneered

And stroked your somewhat scruffy beard

While I imagined murder plots—

Some stabbings, drownings, rifle shots.

Perhaps we’ll meet down at the park—

Where trees contribute to the dark—

And I’ll say, “Here’s my Bowie knife,”

And you will beg, “Oh, spare my life!”

And I’ll say, “So I will—today.

But deadly, deadly is cliché.”

Words, Words, Twaddle, 36

(We all dislike/hate certain words and locutions; here are some of mine.)

A Grand Solution

“Now, going forward”—this I heard

Before my brain and soul shut down.

I wished a predatory bird

Would swoop the speaker (such a clown)

Right off his feet and carry him

To the Grand Canyon’s steepest ledge—

A gorgeous view—the northern rim—

Then drop the speaker off the edge.

While he descends in fatal speed,

I’ll watch (at least, I feel I can)

Until I hear him cry and plead.

And I’ll say, “Going forward, man?”

Words, Words, Twaddle, 35

(We all dislike/hate certain words and locutions; here are some of mine.)

Gospel According to Marks

So “benchmarks” are the topic that

You think we ought to talk about?

I'm thinking of a baseball bat,

And not at all of striking out.

But I will calm myself—or not.

Will I convert you into smears,

Then take the bench that I have got

And make some marks—and cry no tears?

Nah, I'm peaceful ...

Words, Words, Twaddle, 34

(We all dislike/hate certain words and locutions; here are some of mine.)

Not-So-Cool Aide

“Don't drink the Kool-Aid,” you remarked.

I felt as if a seal had barked,

A seal with issues in his brain—

I hope I don't need to explain.

Methuselah was very old,

But bright enough (so I've been told)

To flat eschew the dread cliché—

Which we can't seem to do today.

But come and see me for a drink—

I've just the thing, you missing link.

It's sweet—and brightly colored red.

So drink your fill and join the dead.

(Perhaps there's hope, you knucklehead—

The zombies need some new Undead.)

Words, Words, Twaddle, 33

(We all dislike/hate certain words and locutions; here are some of mine.)

On a Mission

You have a “mission,” so you say—

Your “statement” will ensue.

I guess you need it just in case

You don’t know what to do.

But I know what I have to do

When I hear “mission” said:

I wonder if the speaker has

Some brain cells in his head.

Words, Words, Twaddle, 32

(We all dislike/hate certain words and locutions; here are some of mine.)

Quackery

I just heard the guy say it—his “ducks in a row”—

And I felt my insides start to churn.

So I tried to calm down, and to make my heart slow,

But I failed—and I started to burn.

The grass on the lawn was the first to ignite—

Then the neighborhood—all up in smoke.

Oh, I knew that my flameout was nowhere near right—

And was not really much of a joke.

But I just couldn't stop till I burned up that guy,

Who is one of clichés greatest yucks.

So I flamed through the town—then I saw him. Said, “Hi!”

And I broiled both that guy and his ducks. 

Words, Words, Twaddle, 31

(We all dislike/hate certain words and locutions; here are some of mine.)

Your Strategy Eyes

You say you want to “strategize”?

It shouldn't come as much surprise

To learn what such a dumb word buys:

It sets some awful passions loose;

Some violence it will produce,

Involving rope—a hangman’s noose.

And there you’ll dangle in the breeze—

A cougar dining on your knees—

From one of nature’s handy trees.

And while you feel your soul fly free

And head—Oh where? Well, don’t ask me!—

Please contemplate your strategy.

Words, Words, Twaddle, 30

(We all dislike/hate certain words and locutions; here are some of mine.)

The Most Dangerous Game

“Decisioning”—did you say that?

I thought I heard it from your face.

I'm thinking of a baseball bat,

A private and secluded place,

Where I can practice on my swing

And use your noggin—take my aim,

Then … SPLAT! … Oh, there goes everything.

Yes, jargon’s the most dangerous game. 

Words, Words, Twaddle, 29

(We all dislike/hate certain words and locutions; here are some of mine.)

The Fall

Was it Eve who first suffered? She heard the snake say,

“It is easy—it’s low-hanging fruit!”

And we know what ensued (oh, the suffering we’ve felt!),

But I don’t really care—not a hoot.

But that saying’s remained—and forever, it seems—

And it’s more than my poor heart can take.

It’s as old as is Eden, and so it remains

As the reason I still hate the snake!

Words, Words, Twaddle, 28

(We all dislike/hate certain words and locutions; here are some of mine.)

The Cats of Cliché

“It is like herding cats”—this just came from your mouth.

And it caused a reaction in me.

I just pictured some panthers—some hungry ones, Dude—

And I hope they’ll be dining on thee.

I will herd them with ease, for they’ll quickly respond

When I tell them what I heard you say,

For these panthers are special, with fierce appetites

For the latest (and lamest) cliché. 

Words, Words, Twaddle, 27

(We all dislike/hate certain words and locutions; here are some of mine.)

The Taste of  Pompeii

I have heard your “new” saying—don't say it again—

Though I know it is all the new rage.

I am like a volcano—will surely erupt

If you say we are “on the same page.”

You said it! Now lava explodes from my head

And is flowing directly to you.

And so soon you'll be boiling—converted into

A most tasty Vesuvian stew!

Words, Words, Twaddle, 26

(We all dislike/hate certain words and locutions; here are some of mine.)

There … Where?

You’re “there for me”—well you don’t say.

(In fact I wish you hadn’t said!)

That bothers me—and I don’t play.

So don’t be there—or you’ll be fed

To creatures that I’ve bred—so fierce—

And they are quite a hungry crew.

Their fangs your head and torso pierce—

Oh, yes, they will be there for you!

Words, Words, Twaddle, 25

Screech Out

“Reach out. Reach out,”you always say
In meetings, memos, email, too. 
And now I know just what to do
To make your saying go away. 

I know you think I am your friend,
But I will coax you to a cliff
And shove you off with forearm stiff,
And cry “Reach out!” while you descend. 

Words, Words, Twaddle, 24

(We all dislike/hate certain words and locutions; here are some of mine.)

Grrrrrrrrrrreat!

You say I'm on your “tiger team”—

Another phrase that makes me scream.

The remedy came in a dream:

A friendly outing to the zoo,

The tiger cage, its hungry crew,

A little shove—the meal’s on you. 

Words, Words, Twaddle, 23

(We all dislike/hate certain words and locutions; here are some of mine.)

Reactive

“Proactive” is just not allowed

Among the now-enlightened crowd.

And you will soon require a shroud

If you employ it. I’ve a plan

To execute a verbal ban.

I call it, simply, Plan of Dan.

It uses electricity

That’s operated cruelly

By someone vicious (yes, like me).

Your mouth will scream, your body shake;

You’ll cry, “There must be some mistake!”

And I'll go boating on a lake. 

Words, Words, Twaddle, 22

We all dislike/hate certain words and locutions; here are some of 

In Your Face

You don’t know whom you’re talking to—

You cannot understand your place,

Not if your lips grant passage through

To ugly words like “interface.”

I think I have an answer, though,

For using words like “interface.”

And what they’ll soon force me to do

Involves some duct tape, cans of mace. 

Words, Words, Twaddle, 21

(We all dislike/hate certain words and locutions; here are some of mine.)

Death in the Afternoon

Do I love “workshop” as a verb?

I guess there are more ugly sounds—

Though few can equally disturb

My equanimity. Bad rounds

Of golf, insomnia, the flu,

A ruined nap, a blizzard—these

Tend to annoy both me and you.

But “workshop” as a verb! Oh, please!

Stop using it! Immediately!

Or I (and let me not be vague)

Will find you sleeping peacefully—

Inject you with bubonic plague!

Words, Words, Twaddle, 20

(We all dislike/hate certain words and locutions; here are some of mine.)

Have a Bad Day

So you told me this morning to “have a nice day,”

And I’ve tried, but I don't really think that I can.

For that saying by now is much more than cliché:

It is time in my view for a government ban.

And the penalty? Harsh! Just as harsh as can be—

And for me such a move is just far past its time.

And so here’s a suggestion, a most strict remedy:

To employ this foul saying’s a capital crime. 

Words, Words, Twaddle, 19

(We all dislike/hate certain words and locutions; here are some of mine.)

Terminal Odyssey

So you like “mentor” as a verb?

Telemachus would not approve—

And it would thoroughly disturb

Athena, who would say, “Remove

That nasty sound—it hurts my ears!”

Ignoring her most dread command

Would bring to life your greatest fears.

The Cyclops, who you thought were banned,

And Scylla (with Charybdis, too)

Would visit you while you’re in bed,

And they’d have fun tormenting you—

But then they’d stop—and make you dead!

Words, Words, Twaddle, 18

(We all dislike/hate certain words and locutions; here are some of mine.)

What Is Is

I am sick of your language—yes, all that you say.

You are not (I fear) much of a whiz.

Like today in the office I heard what you said:

You declared that “it is what it is.”

Well, that’s really so patent—like “air is just air”—

And, well, I am a sensitive guy,

So when hearing you say that “it is what it is,”

Well, I knew that my soul would just cry.

So tonight (in the dark) you will hear a grim sound—

It’s a sputtering kind of a fizz.

Then the bomb will explode, and then you will disperse.

Don’t you worry: It is what it is. 

Words, Words, Twaddle, 17

(We all dislike/hate certain words and locutions; here are some of mine.)

Take Me Out

A “ballpark figure” leaves me cold—

And not because it’s really old—

But mostly (if I may be bold)

Because I hear it all the time—

A kind of ugly jangling chime

That will not cease. And they are slime

Who use it far too frequently.

Just wait and you will quickly see

How vitriol transfigures me.

Oh, on the surface things seem fine,

But rage converts me: I’m malign—

A creature made by Frankenstein.

Or, better: I will never sulk;

Instead, I’ll grow—such massive bulk—

Till I’ve become … The Language Hulk!

Words, Words, Twaddle, 16

(We all dislike/hate certain words and locutions; here are some of mine.)

Popping Corn

“Let’s make it pop!” I heard him say.

I could not make him stop.

His head’s now in the microwave,

Where I will make it pop. 

Words. Words, Twaddle, 15

(We all dislike/hate certain words and locutions; here are some of mine.)

The Hole Problem

I would like to see the sad statistic:

How we love (so much!) to use “holistic”—

Medicine, assessments (school), and any

Stupid reason that we have. A penny—

Pretty one--I’d find and pay, if only

It would go away and leave me lonely.

(Not that I would grieve that word’s demise—no,

I would gladly celebrate its death, Yo.)