What causes their incessant talk,
The gibberish and shouted words,
The screams and noises from the back,
This perpetual distraction?
How can it be they need no peace,
No quietness or moments of
Precious silence in which to think
Of consequences of actions?
Why do they throw their tables and
Move chairs from under those who sit,
And constantly attempt to push
Each other to wild reactions?
Who is it that they think they are
So that they are untouchable,
And each a law unto himself,
And exempt from regulation?
Where can one go to escape them,
And all they do and all they say,
To hide one’s feelings with success,
Put a mask over frustration?
When, if ever, will they learn that
Their behaviour has no reason,
Make no progress, leads to nothing
But one poet’s inspiration?