Today I failed an ill-blitheracy exam.
It was proctored by people I meet every day.
It seems I can’t blither the way others do.
Lord knows I’ve tried ‘til my pride turned pale blue
There’s nothing that’s said that is new anyway.
I don’t make normal sense; that’s the way that I am.
Were it hard to speak freely as most do with ease
There would be not a word from my tongue or the pen.
There’d be silence within all the chatter around.
My own little bubble… Oh, how sweet the sound
That saved a rich resonant wretch once again
From casting his own sense of worth to the breeze.
The want ads are screaming, “Dear blitherists please
Take note that we hire most all of the time.
If you can speak nonsense and keep a straight face,
You’re Hired! We value a seasoned nut case.
We don’t even care if you make lousy rhyme.
The world is your oyster. All nature agrees.”