mate, you're a state, this isn't debate, you fucking ingrate, but wait, a mistake, well now you'll be played, shoulda stayed, in poetry corner, phil oughta had warned ya, outta bordom i scorned and pointed and yawned, cos it suddenly dawned, you can't play the ball, so be warned, your kidde school collection, is basic navel inspection, and on reflection, makes everyone question, the attention your getting, like childish bed wetting, seems your vexation, and ideas above your station, has made you complacent, arrogant, and debasing, the topic of conversation, with no heistation, there's no point you are making, this isn't about facing, a wider audience to play with, or perform and give missives, with little thought of the disses, your soon to received, because can't you see your poetry cannot be, as good as these short bars, so now you see stars, circling round your head, like wile e coyote, you're trying to hard to be outspoken, but really your broken, attention seeking, your joking, on a thread about murder, which happened in pergulia, so you turd burglar, shut the fuck up and turn tail, back to your hole you stoopid little troll, oh shit you've been bettered, fit up and then vetted and found to be lacking, cracking under the strain care to try again, you lame, full of shame, fucked in the brain, arrogant half insane, drain, of our precious oxygen, you fucking theif, you need to be buried 6 feet deep chief, so let's see you try to teef, the thread from it's topic and on to you, or you can STUF, come on son you know what's the truth, now is time to let the adults, talk and discuss, it's not time for your year 12 recital, which let's face needs bruching up, and fuck me you've been cussed in prosaic rhyme phrase, which incidentally is better than yours you know blud truth say...