“There are few things as toxic as a bad metaphor.”—Catherine Bateson
Ms. B., I agree. Some wordings can be toxic
and tropes of the bad kind are downright poxic.
“Spaceship Earth” coins the pundit-cum-sage:
blisters and buboes erupt down the page.
Newsweek and Time are consistently noxious
but poets spew tropes that are also poxious.
Like that tremulous sad sack who prated on,
comparing evening to a bloke being operated on.
Or the Welshman who liked to tipple and fight,
claiming death was some kind of excellent night.
Pox of all poxes! That boy named Joyce
whose Trees is so noysome. Oy and oyce!
By now that verse should be laid to rest
but those trees keep sucking the earthsward’s breast.
“You’re Satan!” “No, you are!” Aspersions endemic!
Toxic Trope has become a pandemic.
There would be whoopings of jubilation
if someone should cook up a vaccination
and inoculate Earth from this raging curse.
These catchy lines only make things worse.