Lies, Lies, Doth These Abaited Finds Thy War, Guys? Poem by Michael Gale

As i bring out my emptied hook...
I due do ponder which bait to seek
for and look.

Do i choose a baited hook alit with lies? ...
Maybe one more filled with spies.

Now as i cast out my line to a watery, dismal darker darkest of all the deep...
Is yon pond filled with lies felt steep?

Will all the peoples' public fisheries accept my offered lines? ...
Are my hooks barbs te sharpest of all tines?

Let me lower my lines ever, and deeper...
Will my lies be accepted as honestly as a good, wanted keeper?

War is the tokened excuse-in story, that i dropp down to the ignorant public votable people...
These lies belong well stagnated and hid behind doors of a towering and overpowering holy grailed steeple.