That’s Not True

There’s no mano a mano
The schmucks need a crew
Else they’ve no clue whatsoever
No, not so whatever
What to do

Give it to him straight
He’ll block and he’ll ban
until his whole posse’s Irrate

He’ll mole deep into his
Mother goose shoe
And whine
But . . . but . . . still,
he’ll say . . . but . . . Because
I say So!
And So it is!
And I’ll blacklist you!
And I know how to hit delete too!

Surrounds himself with tools
All the more, All the better
No need to deal ever again with the tar and feather
Can become just another one of those humpty dumpties
All the cowered men to clean up his grumpy rumpings

I’ve the power to crown you Royal Retard, he cries!
Cower to the corner infidel
Take your spanks
Else I whip you to the lowest ranks!

But I’m so fair, don’t you see
Blue-eyed devil fiend-cum-friend
Friend-cum-fiend
But still, I’ve no idea what you mean
Tribe up, don’t you see
Look what’s out there, so much worse than me
Tartuffery never crossed my feigning warlock witchery

I’ll change your mind your heart your very dictionary
But I’m the good guy, don’t you see
And, I don’t mean to stomp, NO!
But, Wait, oh, 
Yes I do!

Author: KenshoHomestead

Creatively working toward self-sufficiency on the land.

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