Bored:
‘Tis what I am
Since what I was
Required a certain aptitude
To rely on humanity’s fancy
And aggravated whim.
People-listening was my game
And, boy! Was it a gas
To hear the personal
The provincial
The scandalous
Schemes borne from those
To whom privacy comes last.
And now: Hark here!
A newer conversation
Fills the rooms with pedantic drivel
As the modern man looks outward
To things that hardly concern him
And ends his winded lectures
With feigned moral aggravation.
They pretend they are the experts
Of their collective truth
But, really, they are just bland
And kind of unoriginal –
Simply, boring –
As they recite the talking points
Gathered throughout the day.
“Relevant this, relevant that –
She probably did so,
But everyone knows he did so –
How do I know? How can I tell?
‘Cause everyone’s saying it
So there’s some proof in it
Or else what I’m saying
Isn’t worth much at all –
But I can’t believe that
By virtue of it’s what I find interesting.”
Fools like this
Go on and on
Whether dates with loves or business friends
Permit jabbering on for endless ends
Without realizing it’s been said before
Or refusing to believe it
Or else lose individuality.
Well, I say, they’ve lost it –
And I’ve affirmed that man is a bore
Since the women and men sound off as one
Just to hear their complaints echo over the floor
Until eavesdroppers like me, who chose – but now can’t help it –
Turn around to shush their drivel
Because our own thoughts are suddenly more fun.
Morning's Early Dark 