Snaps and claps fill the room
Laughter echoing like a sonic boom
The words have been said,
The room far from dead
Blind ears sit on every face
Communicating, touching base:
"Oh I love that line about....."
"Oh I just love how the poet fills our mind with doubt!"
"And I cried when...."
"He was absolutely right! Chocolate is the sweetest sin!
And this and that, and that and this
And his and hers, and hers and his!
They chatter noiselessly, and yet far too loudly
With wonder in their voices,
The poet himself acting quite proudly,
Conversing about how he came to such words and choices
No one saying what they really mean, what they really think,
Only what they think the people around them want them to say
And their real opinions shrink
Until there's nothing left to think or say
And make no mistake: this is a case of bad poetry
Bas poetry fueled by the bandwagon appeal of a group mentality
The crowd not able to see,
The true reality
Those snaps and claps were not instantaneous
It took one to lead and the rest to follow
(Although, not consciously,
And definitely not intentionally)
And the rest was spontaneous,
The poet's victory unknowingly hollow.
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