An odour hangs where sweeter
scents have had their day – an
effluence pervades, strangles air,
and where we once were ruled
by truth and common sense
anarchy takes it away.
I read with great regret the sable
words of FjR, a man whose quest
to seek and hold the truth has met
an early end. He acquiesced in face
of grand intransigence; there’s more
to life, he said, than banging heads.
Frank has gone – this time he won’t
return; malefactors who run this site
conspired to spurn him for his queries
on their malfeasance – a sentence of
death by silence, spiced with a thousand
slights and poisoned innuendo.
And Frank James Ryan (Jnr) is right!
He is also right to leave – there is no
peace of mind in knowing he’s been
singled out, receives an unjust and
askance punishment of eternal
stasis because he asked why...
An odour hangs where heady scent of
woven words in pure and peaceful
harmony was sacrosanct; the rotten
stench inures the followers – it’s there
my friends and reaches through your
pens as arch belief. Beware!
© 9 October 2007, I. D. Carswell