So
at your worst
you can marshal packs of puppets
and pawns
and marry them all to all your viscerally
selected demons
thus at your forsaken disposal an army
of ****** miscreants
and
at your best
you have laid out your rotted innards
and all your disrepute
your vices caramelised in shoddy white gloss
now smelt in gangrene disgrace  
in
at lest pitifully
you claim your wretched podiums at the
galleries of peons
and all donned your jesters hats proudly
and in fitting ridicules
and
at your wittering  most
you owned your shamelessness with aplomb
as in muck from muck
in the depraved reunions of thieves, degenerates
low-lives, malcontents and chavs
what's classy about underclasses who will dare throw
the first stone
there is esprit de corps in the salt poor waters
of pond lives