Counterblast To Sordid Stuff Poem by Tan Pratonix

No, I don't want to read
Your sordid secrets,
Your sick fetishes,
Exudations of your drab,
Disgusting mind.
Others may applaud you
For being so ‘frank',
Going ga-ga over your rank,
Rotten rubbish. (If ever poems stank!)

I would rather read something sane,
Crafted from wholesome heart and brain,
Words skillfully woven,
Allusions that make us ‘think';
Language that flows
With sensible prose.
Not the yackety-yak
Of some third-rate hack,
(Poems that actually stink!)

I have spent too much time
Scanning drivel and blather
On this doggerel poetry site.
The lines bloat like foam or lather
In a decrepit sewage plant
(Heaven help my sainted aunt!
I've had enough!
I cry)
I would rather die
Than read this seething stuff.

Better to be seated in a shady nook
Reading an illustrated story book.