Eustace

 

Eustace was useless and incredibly vain

He talked and he gabbed t’was mainly the same,

Chatting not listening was the name of his game.

Garrulous, scandalous, it was always inane.

He’d talk in his classes, to his mates and his peers,

He’d gossip at break-time and bend his friends’ ears.

Mouthy, loquacious, gobby and talkative.

He went on and on chatting as if on verbal laxative.

His parents, his teachers, his friends, all complained

Eustace just talks, but the problem remained.

All talk and no listening lead only one-way,

His opinions meant nothing; no-one did they sway.

For all that came out from his mouth was just trash

Like processed Frankfurters or overcooked mash.

The goodness, the wellness, the freshness was gone

All that was left was gristle and bone.

But still he kept talking and often opined

On the value of this, or the state of his mind.

His friends became restless as on them he grated

Daily becoming more opinionated.

It got so bad towards the end

That Eustace began to ignore his friends.

He’d talk, and talk, and never listen

Explaining this and that position;

On music; politics and sports

Mouthing off his trite retorts.

T’was a Monday, third of May

That was to be the fateful day

When Eustace woke and started talking

As was his wont every morning

To his reflection in the bathroom mirror.

Without a thought did he consider

Just who this was, or what he said,

He just talked on; a talking head.

But as he spoke so did his double

And this was where began his trouble.

To make sure he’d win the argument

And his opponent circumvent

His voice he raised and started yelling

The other guy just needed telling.

But he too listened not, and carried on

His diatribe to prolong.

Each man did try, and try again,

To pound words into each others’ brain.

But both were talking like dictators,

To listening both were heinous traitors.

As voices raised the guys did yell

Who said what you couldn’t tell.

Their faces screwed, their words more hectic,

They each became more apoplectic.

Until, with one enormous shout

Eustace cried, and he yelled out,

Shut it man! Just shut your face!

To listening skills you’re a disgrace!

With talking you’re preoccupied.

And saying this, they both died.