Étiquette : respect

When we show idiots too much respect…


When a society shows idiots too much respect,
It’s the warning sign it begins to accept
An increase in their type we can’t seem to neglect,
It’s a rising of fools over straight intellect.

And the more we concede our renewed interest,
Only broader it seals their right to profess
Any stupid idea, repainted as quest,
Any false claim or deed always stirring a mess.

How do we shut down a jerk in a free society,
When it makes a despot of who’ll bear the duty ?
It seems better we first check our own opinions
And beware if they turn in the wrong direction.

Otherwise, it’s a question of civil balance ;
All these grounds we give up on knowledge and science,
Only gaining the slightest of all conciliations :
We are losing on truth, for the sake of the nation.

When a citizen shows for ignorance respect,
It must be an alarm that we’ve come to accept
Our decay in culture ; and for lack of prospects,
How we made a failure of that « global access ».

It’s the freedom of fools in the shade of progress,
A minority’s rule forced on everyone else.
It’s the making it cool of that buffoon’s pretense.
And it’s taking the room of our most common sense,
When we show idiots way too much of respect…

When we show idiots way too much of respect.

(Painting : « The laughing jester » – anonymous -)

To love yourself (is such a painful job).


To love yourself is such a painful job
How would anyone sane apply for this duty ?
When it takes little effort to self-loathe, self-destroy,
To ruin every best piece of your personality.

In a more realistic common sense,
It is a hard enough task to give yourself respect.
And I mean, it’s a full-time job as well,
Just to keep your dignity, your balance and values,
A true sense of who you are, and who you’re not.
But you don’t have to love yourself at least…
What a high commitment to impress on your daily behaviour,
On your conscious and unconscious way of living.

To love yourself, it’s someone else’s job.
And who’s that brave for such intense giving ?
Except your parents really, who would this burden self-impose ?
You might be lovable, sure, yet even so,
You’re only one in the many.

There’s a less hypothetical chance
That you’d be taken care by someone else
And this could mean a lifetime job as well.
So if you’re blest enough to find protection and concern,
Avoid resentment against whom that keeps you from self-pity,
From all your « nobody cares for me ».
Surely someone does, whoever they might be.
Then it’s your painful job not to resist, not to break free.