As it turns out, you should read the previous entry ("So Very Clear"), before reading this one, (but that is not human nature), so I digress.
Together, these two poems, chronicle events that were happening in the same time frame. Thus, if you were to read the previous one, maybe it would all make some total sense.

Digging My Hole

I'm bound to get in more trouble
Digging my hole deep and wide,
But after our "attitude" meeting
Our morale, just rolled over and died.

Theoretically, as professional persons
We can communicate by "Doyles book of Rules",
But we're all emotional cretins
And few of us have all the tools.

I've commented before in my ramblings
About the ways in which real people talk,
The mirroring/rephrasing proponents
Make me cover my ears and squawk,
To me, it's too stilted and phony
Lacking empathy and a sense of connection,
I believe that it alienates people
And personally, I want some protection.

I'm bound to get in more trouble
For spreading my thoughts in the press,
But I'm merely recording my insights
As a participant in this morale building mess.

Fibril_late; 1995