Should I compare you to harridan hag of a winter’s day?

For you are the television screens celebrity whore,

Who people urge others on to detest what you say

Because your mealy brown nosed mouth knows no common decent law.

The papers are full of your tripe, belly pork and pock marked offal

And the stuffing, well best left to the imagination

Of the viewer who glances with excited glee at your high pitch waffle

At your endless diatribes set to cause expected squeal and harmfully stun.

I would pen you but a single poem if I had the ready wit and pencil led guile,

However I wouldn’t want to sully my thoughts

And keep them clean,

Far removed from your pixilated bile

And the baiting of a hundred rat trap po-faced snorts;

I cannot wish to be bought to your level and act so mean.

Ian D. Hall