This churlish knave who blights our scene
divides uneasy sentiment with truculence;
screams irrationally in vehemence as easy
words, coos praise unctuously in phrases
reeking insincerity – a gooey disingenuous
drek. You know him well, so what the heck
you say, it is a modest quirk of conscience,
momentary lapse of reason, he’ll go away.
Regrettably he touches raw anxiety with
flippant ease, sleazing into sense of right
and wrong with venomous intent, snake-
like bent on wreaking knavish discord and
intense disunity; it is time to see him just
for what he is – the dark side of humanity.
© 3 December 2007, I. D. Carswell
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