image

You pause for a sec, and take in the awkward silence.

A remote question posed, of which to you makes no sense.

A thousand eyes face up to you, all waiting in expectancy,

For that intellectual answer that would leave them all in ecstasy.

But little do they know you haven’t even got the foggiest,

But pride gets in the way, and you start speaking with such confidence.

The night before you practised in the mirror your big shpeel,

But nothing could prepare you for when Q&A is real.

Who are you trying to impress? Your own thoughts you can’t express.

As you ‘blag’ your way through, from the main point you digress.

An authoritative order, your image speaks of such ordinance,

Like politicians on question time, you try to please your audience.

As time crawls, you fill time with all manor of sound-bites,

Hoping that they don’t notice, and hoping that it all sounds right,

At first they buy the jargon, and lies that flutter from you,

But the more you speak, the less you realise that they’re not with you.