What wimps they are:

This gutless breed;

Typing out slander for all to read. 


Allow a comment or two from their mate..


Then snuff out all debate. 


Free speak:


Pardon me;


I'd like to pull out all the weeds. 


But that would be costly, just let them grow. 


When the reaper comes he will know. 


Can I pick them apart strand by strand?


I can see a cunning hand.


Most are just foolish 


They don't know 


Just agreeing with what's on show. 


Not understanding the dread or the fear...


All cursed with itchy ears..


The road is wide


For those are led


By the prophets of the dead. 


Laying their cockless eggs


So the vipers can be fed.


Nor engaging with the truth 


Feeding on rotten fruit. 


What are they afraid of?


Looney tunes?


They can hide.


There are those who stay and play


To them I wish a very nice day.




  • Author: Valiantstar (Pseudonym) (Offline Offline)
  • Published: May 14th, 2024 01:58
  • Comment from author about the poem: Nothing personal, mostly crap that cums in my inbox.
  • Category: Unclassified
  • Views: 11
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  • Neville

    I suggest you get a new inbox and some disinfectant wipes

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