Talking Heads
Blah, blah, blah, is all I hear,
Talking heads far and near,
They only love the sounds they make,
Never giving, only take, take, take.
So many worthless words are said,
Spewing from their talking heads,
Making noise just to hear it,
Never silent, for they fear it.
Never hearing what others may say,
Perpetual tongues want it that way,
Only in love with their looking glass face,
As they flit around from place to place.
The more and more they make sound,
The less and less I want to be found,
Thump their chests and stick them out,
As they strut like a cock about.
Like loudmouth roosters on a farm,
Constantly sounding false alarms,
So that anyone in earshot knows,
Its talking heads putting on a show.
Copyright © Timothy Mcguire | Year Posted 2018
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