The Adventures of Diogenes the Cynic (3)
In which Diogenes visits the Plagiarism Detection Agency


 
On the same afternoon he was strolling along
On a street where it looked as if nothing were wrong, 
When there came unexpected a cloud of thick dust
Whose result was much coughing, and some people cussed.
It appeared to emerge from a window below
And spilled on the street like dark flurries of snow.
Diogenes hurried to get to the spot
Desirous to learn what there was to be taught.
He collided with someone who carried a broom:
“My fault!” cried the other, as both men went boom.
“My staff has just opened Eleven-point-Two
Of the Aufstieg und Niedergang, dust from which flew!”
He then made some chaotic attempts with the broom.
Diogenes’ interest was piqued by this room
With the dust and the books, so in hopes of a tour
He asked if the man could divulge a bit more.
In response the man claimed that his life was the best,
The finest and justest you ever had guessed,
For it gave satisfaction to mind and to will,
Though the work needed more than one life for its fill.
Now, since he maintained as his watchword and boast
To be just as transparent as ever a ghost—
Would Diogenes please to examine downstairs?
In a basement the size of three dragonesque lairs
They found dozens of workers who flipped rapid books
Or scrolled their computers with rapid-eyed looks,
They saw messengers running with scribbled-on slips 
While the phones rang incessant with callers with tips.
“I got three!” someone yelled, “here is hoping for five!
Five words in a row and the case is alive!”
The man he had followed was swollen with pride.
“Well, what do you think? You may well be tongue-tied!
No place and no epoch can boast such a hive:
In the past suchlike efforts lacked order and drive,
So that many a sinner escaped without brand;
Now finally justice will spread on the land.
Our aim is to find every plagiarist’s pen
And mark all the authors who burglars have been.
This week we achieved a transcendent surprise
The winner no less of a Pulitzer Prize
Was proven to steal phraseology from
A source as to which the Works Cited was dumb.
Of Bancrofts and Goodwins we’ve many to tell,
And next we are aiming to snatch a Nobel.
Now, can you conceive a more critical charge?
The vanguard of Justice is crossing the marge!" 
Diogenes found himself rather confused
To see such expense and such talent misused,
While the brain of this gentleman seemed a bit bruised.
But he said that it sounded to him very blessed
To spend one’s life reading all books that were best.
“Quite so, I imagine,” the man answered back,
“Though time for such reading we certainly lack.
My staff are too busy to read for the sense;
Our job is but searching for verbal offense.”
Diogenes found it a struggle to speak
But attempted an answer as gracious as weak.
“Perhaps your attention to language and style
Will help you express your own thoughts without guile.
It is sometimes not easy to say what you mean,
But I find that the words like wild horses careen;
While charity too is a chore to express;
Intending all kindness, you say what is less.”
His proud friend responded that this was quite right,
That his words came out better, to speak and to write,
Since he had begun on the plagiarist’s track.
Of previous expressions he boasted a lack;
No phrase that a human had spoken before
Would ever convict him of being a bore.
Not, to be sure, did he always evade
Some words that were rude or inexpertly made,
But he always ensured they were no one’s but his.
Diogenes still had inquiries to quiz,
But at this point a ruckus had started to be
For someone had opened Eleven-point-Three
Of the reference work mentioned that caused all the dust.
Diogenes climbed from the basement nonplussed.

Andrew Horne

 
If you have any thoughts about this poem,  Andrew Horne would be pleased to hear them