It’s all a verbal tango:
it seems like more, but
it’s all nothing but a verbal shoving match.
 

It’s all a community sing:
you think you hear individual voices, but
it’s just a world wide sing-a-long.
 

It’s all a verbal pile-on:
it sounds like something is being accomplished, but
it’s just words being heaped on words.
 

It’s all a verbal, drama-cum-criticism:
it appears to be production, then outside reaction, but
it’s all a unified, in-house operation.
 

It’s all a verbal pecker pull:
everyone pretends they’re being satisfied, but 
everyone goes home horny.
 

It’s a verbal cover for ignorance:
men pin a word on the dark, then
talk about it as though it were sunshine.
 

It’s a verbal suit of armor, and
since no one’s inside it,
the grander it is the better. 
 

It’s a make believe tar baby  --  one which, 
the more you verbally strike it,
the more you two become one.
 

It’s a verbal train:
it appears to have come from some place,
and seems to be rolling on, but
the train stands still 
while words fly past the windows,
giving the illusion of motion.
 

It’s verbal camouflage:
fears with no tongues are given voice, 
the unspeakable then embraced.
 

It's all a verbal sport:
its aim is pronounced as significant, but
the game is pure entertainment.
 
 

It's a verbal phone system:
six billion listeners  --   one voice speaking,
six billion minds mired in collective illusion.
 

It's a verbal work of art:
pleasant to contemplate, but 
the first real rain washes it away.
 
 
 

It's all a verbal dream world;
it seems quite real, 
building after building, 
but inside the buildings are nothing but people,
and inside the people, nothing but words.
 

            The whole thing's 
               all in your mind.
 

                                         JAN