Something New to Sing
January 8, 2016
“If you don’t like what I like, you’re too dumb to understand.
You’re not on my intellectual level or even a man.
You’re nowhere near as sophisticated, dear boy, as I am.”
Such is what I read from day to day.
Just because I see faults in revered forms of media
Rather than sit still and listen to or watch them like “Duh!”
In a drunken, mindless stupor, yet my opinion gets “Screw ya!”
No matter how respectful the words I say.
As far as what I do like, I dare not bother to say
For fear of having more condescending flack flying my way
And having more strangers call me a fool throughout the day
For my apparently lowbrow taste.
Even if I were to defend that which I still respect
With sound reason and wisdom, I’d still get shot to heck.
I could even be civilized in the face of blind hatred, and yet,
My efforts would all be just a waste.
What’s worse yet is how true it is for other topics at hand
Like the food on my plate, clothes on my back, and lack of ink on my hands.
Even other interests of mine that others might not understand
Are somehow a ground for a war of words
With people whom I’ve never met and will never talk to again
Yet go out of their way to cast me into Hell and back again
In an effort to rile and shake me up and make my opinion bend.
The whole thing’s nothing less than absurd.
Now, don’t get me wrong. We all have preferences for what we like—
Whatever helps us ease our minds and gets us through the night—
And so long as we’re not sickos or jerks about it or the like,
“For each his or her own,” as they say,
But where at all is the sense of attacking others personally
Over matters of taste that don’t reflect upon us morally?
Are we all so wrapped up in ourselves that we just fail to see
Who else we are day by day?
Well, then, maybe we’re just too immature to even bother to speak,
‘Cause it all leads into insults, and as folks say, “Talk is cheap”—
Especially the childish exchanges I witness week to week
Over the pettiest little things.
Either we learn to agree to disagree or just move on,
‘Cause I don’t know ‘bout anyone else, but I’m tired of the same old song
Going off in my head year after year ringing worse than a gong.
It’s time to find something new to sing.
Author Pages: Smashwords.com