What Hope Is There

I am appalled this so-called ‘Poet of Note’
writes like a nine year old, delighting in the
use of abusive language; it isn’t as though
the smutty innuendo has redeeming grace,
the rhyme is haphazard in rhythms that
break pace like wind erupting indecently
from distended half-baked beans tins.
Was there a smell I’m sure it was foul.

Yes I agree, I don’t have to read and be
offended, I can choose from 16,000 or
more members. So the fault is mine. But
there lies the rub – in one fell swoop I’ve
denigrated this mug of a ‘Poet of Note’,
so what hope is there for the rest of us?
© 2 March 2008, I. D. Carswell

Pity is this bloke's an Australian - (and not me!)