Mediocrity (in the spirit of Noel Coward’s Nina)

20140602-112525-41125835.jpg [photo credit: Eaon Pritchard]

Beige puts you in a rage,
and grey,
no matter how many shades,
simply sees you fade.

Your tenacity in tendency,
to evade the central tendency
is evidenced in deviations
that are anything but standard.

The mode, for you, is no abode,
the median is too in between,
and the mean is just plain stingy.

Your score sits in isolation,
suggesting genetic mutation,
but you sit in consternation
at their search for correlation,
when you know that causation
is out of everybody’s reach.

So you smile at the mystery
that others have yet to see.
Your happy with your superiority,
but can not tolerate mediocrity,
yet your malady and tragedy
is that as an outlier, your exceptional,
and really quite remarkable,
but you’re so far removed from us
that you’ll never come to anyone’s attention.

Someone once commented that I don’t deal well with mediocrity. On recalling their words this Noel Coward inspired poem arose.


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