By Stanley Collymore
Britain has significantly and
regrettably so dangerously
morphed into a noxiously
quite basically sick country where
evidently, genuine acts of decent
behaviour: things, so specifically
like courteously recognizing the
natural and altruistic actions of
others are decidedly, cavalierly
dismissed, easily dishonoured
and similarly aggressively and
very maliciously, made fun of;
and likewise, where generally
compliments effectively paid
in return for actions proudly
considered appropriately to
be well done, are sickly and
deliberately misinterpreted
by malevolent intellectually
challenged morons both to
cruelly and spitefully scorn.
You, however, are self-evidently
distinctly and uniquely above
these basically distastefully
perversely and quite perniciously
egregious, aptly toxic specimens
lamentably, of purported Homo
sapiens while clearly personally
yourself, undeniably absolutely
truly replete in the notion, that
worth should naturally, always
readily, be fully acknowledged
and credit quite aptly where it
is due, discernibly recognized.
So with that sanely and firmly
very emphatically, crucially in
mind; here's honestly tribute
to you in this poem, dutifully
therefore, with my enduring
thanks and lasting gratitude
for your discernibly notable,
so outstandingly auspicious
plus commendable actions!
(C) Stanley V. Collymore
18 December 2022.
Author's Remarks:
Over the past weeks I've been very assiduously, and with rapt interest as well have most distinctively and quite enamouredly been watching the Drama Channel's broadcast, in exceedingly brilliant dramatization of Catherine Cookson's undeniably outstanding works. Effectively, I've seen them all before but the acting and rather obviously outstandingly superb, dramatic portrayal literally of Catherine Cookson's works give an unquestionably, quite accurate but rather appallingly so the clear evil demarcation, of a thoroughly sick, totally twisted and decidedly also an irrefutably, very evidently crucially entrenched, perceptibly and demonstrably unmistakably what is vilely a non-meritocratic, sham democratic and obviously impactfully, infernally sick, class structured British society where effectively nothing - never mind these cynically, delusory smoke and mirror routines - has really essentially changed one bit!
Predictably and unsurprisingly also writing poetry for British women is not a pastime of mine and actually with the preponderance of Karens that infest UK society a visit to the local sewage works would certainly be by far more beneficial, and also quite interesting. But even in a sick society like Britain the rare oasis of sanity does appear out of the toxic and evilly ingrained barrenness that characteristically predominates.
This poem was truly inspirationally instigated in one of these distinctly rare occasions, and as such rather delightedly penned by me, for the lady in question.
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