Ballad Of The Listener Poem by Je'free Y .

Blabber-mouthed girls, chatty boys live high-strung.
None of them is calm and collected.
Loud and proud, two of their most essential details.

The talkative ones must be running short on saliva,
Or must have been born with motor-tongues
That are ran by everlasting batteries.

Hyper, spewing words like lava
Of an activated volcano dormant for years;
Larynx programmed to chatter, to jabber
Insubstantial rumors, needless gossips;
Detrimental voice boxes designed
To be talky, to be loquacious.

For every theory, hypothesis, inquiry,
They must have every explanation, and more.
Merriam-Webster, Thesaurus will run out of words;
They will dynamically invent synonyms and antonyms.

At least, the word 'communication' retains its meaning,
For there are still listeners who make it survive.

Most of the time, I like to have my mouth shut,
Filtering rubbish from significant,
In silence, learning and progressing.