Words Of The Times Poem by Thomas Noel Smith

The words of the times flow with syncopated cadences,
Labored, torpid sounds fly toward haggard faces.
Confessions of the soul-
Spoken in cathedrals abandoned by the saints.

Chanted psalms lie silent in the heart
Ears strain to hear the call to worship,
As church bells freeze,
The words of the times are at hand.
.
Raucous ramblings of idle minds
Shout profane incantations on street corners,
Cheered by vacuous sages,
As ragged reverends spout their litanies

To the eager, vapid hearts that gather
To hear the words of the times-
Words that rap away
With hollow knocks at the heart's door.

Decaying sounds and jabbering voices praise
The blasphemies of humankind,
Spoken with the feverish fervor
Of fanatic faith-

Words of the times deny the grace
Of song and melody and harmony.
Yet private thoughts strive for rhythm,
And music and meaning.

As the world's fresh wizards
Cast their spells
With the magic dust of vulgarity,
Worshipped by lost and eager tongues,

The words of the times are at hand-
The gibbering dross of today-
The modern holy words to guide the world,
To the new epiphany of the empty soul.