To the Nit-Pickers ©
(As a result of the recent developments on the site.)
Dalton in Furness, England
The odd misguided, glib remark,
Can’t be allowed to drench the spark.
But if their comments are too dark?
Though sticks and stones,
This pack condones,
I pray they’re lonely on their thrones.
But still, we lose.
Unless we accept the sorry few,
Whose capacity for graciousness, never grew
They leave us no option. Why start anew?
We can choose.
With true freedom of speech,
We can deal with the leech.
The majority’s comments do more than just teach,
The tree that falls when no-one is there?
Without our audience, will we still care?
Whilst the oafs lounge, blissfully unaware,
Perhaps a temporary withdrawal of rights,
May convince them to adjust their sights,
And leave their sewer’s dizzy heights,
But if the future stays as now,
You can’t help thinking they’ve won. Somehow.
There’s a bead of frustration upon my brow,
This enforced censorship, makes me annoyed.
With those who’ve caused the artistic void.
So let’s find a way to put paid to their sport,
Deny the anonymity, so the guilty get caught?