Friday, August 28, 2015

Words, Words, Twaddle, 11

(We all dislike/hate certain words and locutions; here are some of mine.)

Not-So-Blind Justice

I heard you say it—“breakout group.”
And I was sickened to the core—
As if I’d eaten mildewed soup—
Or slammed my fingers in the door.

Well, now for you I’ve got some news—
In fact, it’s something of a scoop:
You soon will sing some prison blues—
And maybe form a break-out group,

For I have found a willing judge
Who’ll send you up for decades, man.
He holds a long and bitter grudge
’Gainst all of those who seem to plan

To sully English for the rest—
Who clutter all with crass cliché.
We know incarceration’s best—
Perhaps you'll be released … one day?

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