I’m contemporaneously sick
of the grimy Writer’s Clique
my commonsense demurs,
hell-bent defending rights
wedged up their arses tight
like knickers many sizes less
than ample girths they try
to span. Combat badges
earned in battles dour
they claim, those taut and
stern exchanges aimed
as blows with words that
failed to dent the rampant
egos lent to praise and glory
self-aggrandisement.
Unbelievers’ heads exposed
ring with clashes of the steel
that sings in hands of ersatz
poets clinging to their errant
right to judge the sin and sinners
all – and each of us alike...
© 2 July 2007, I.D. Carswell
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