Blast, says I, to all those who curse
in their poetry, blasphemy! (verse after verse)
of bitter tongues, black, or perhaps they were green
of envy and angst, the likes of which I've seen
in every cliche poem spread out my way
the overuse of 'bad words' flung out in play
Of curse words and swearing, so easily said
better left to the dramas on TV instead
no maturity shown in those idle words written
of love and lust, girls overly smitten
by men who treat them 'shit', as they like to confirm
so they'll brag about badness (when will these girls learn?)
I'll sit here and ponder, with my silver tongue
of all the swear words I've spoken, the hate I have spun
and wonder to myself of words I bear to say
'Oh crumbs', 'fiddlesticks' - fuck them, I'll play.