shame on you | poem

poeta

you know
there are some
people
who believe that 
in any situation
they are correct in opinion, even if
the walls only echo their voice.
 
these types of people
you know, as well as anyone else.
 
and these types of empty heads
refuse to tell
share
recognise
another viewpoint
 
they don’t hear you and this is not a social goal
of the unheard.
 
what pitiful lives 
these people must lead
to believe
that
your opinion
is
never more than
a sounding board 
for how correctly they think.
 
it’s funny
isn’t it, just?
to think that these same people
the elevators 
of pointless opinion 
stirred 
from a mind crazed 
by some form of needless neglect
 
sounding off
rising up like mustard gas
above their own noise 
distortion
 
are so unhappy with the lot they have
they have become ignorant 
of the plentiful
all around them. 
 
you know them 
like rain
or soiled underwear.

and they have been, over years
and are currently 
living 
discontented  
in their own stewed company
 
a company, so familiar
that the presence of others 
is seen 
only
as a chance to appear
heard.
 
their daily 
presence 
is one of unsettled 
devotion

for a cause, hell bent
in creating 
an atmosphere of unhappiness

for them 
and whoever else 
gives them
time.
 
don’t become it
don’t tolerate 
or invite 
in
what you once 
left behind.
 
or you, like them
will belong to a memory 
of once feeling
or worse 
being
just like them.

if you get stuck 
hung up on the same old bullshit 
you once overcame, long enough 
for it to beat you down 
for a second—or worse
championship round 

because of a solo act presence
of righteous 
misery 

shame 
on 
you.