Ah....our witless wonders
they never fail to disappoint
tirelessly they toil like angry beavers
gnawing away on a stout tree in earnest chew
and like beavers true they slime in mud and build dams
but the dams are in their heads they are merely craving attention
and escapism from all their secrets, fears insecurities of small peckers

Lets face it and be honest
the happy content and well adjusted
will not on Sunday morn sit to do adverse proses
when there's so much exciting satisfying n positive life to live
a lover on arm, an outing, a great book to read or music and mates
a gourmet treat to try, a quiet reflective me-time relaxing in the study
a vintage glass of wine, sparkling conversation with intelligent minds

But I forget we're talking dregs here
crippled mundane minds of the disgruntled variety
down-trodden and put upon, worried, discontent and troubled
unsettled disturbed victims of life on hunt for others to share miseries
you can bet a bottom dollar most are ugly unwashed sados drooling
who else sit to troll and write dirges and lamentations any fine day
much less weekend when even without money and no bars one
one could cosy up in a duvet making sweet love.....