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- Joined: 30 Sep 2009, 20:53
Thou addle pated jester prancing there on centre stage
spitting your venom outward in a blustering show of rage
out there in the colonies, far from our verdant shores
where men were sent for felonies - they bred - you are the spore.
Thou artless flap-mouthed varlot - pray tell of what you speak -
haranguing the helpless, intimidating the weak.
You're a jarring fustilarian, a maggot-pie, or worse,
who holds high place. Oh woe is me. A veritable curse.
Thou stands before us, paunchy, surly, roguish and unmuzzled
the world it seems is baffled - alas most folks are just puzzled
by thy hasty-witted comments, by thy rough hewn bonhomie
but will you the goods deliver - the world waits. We've yet to see.
'Twould indeed be good - consider if you will this errant thought,
were you, when disassembling a venomed speech, quite fraught
with ill-nurtured grace, spur-galled asides - to that you call unjust...
remember the whole world watches - methinks thou protests too much.
see some scribbles here - http://scribblybarkpoetry.blogspot.com.au/