The goody-goody people depend on friends for personal profligacy;
Their highest form of personal gratification functions like a baby’s dummy,
Substitutes when vainglorious folk must, perforce, find means to obdurate,
In the company of captains, corporals, divas, bluebloods, or other military sorts.
Consider that assistant bank mangers are known for their obstintatious ways.
Of course, slung mud not only decorates, but heals, as well.
Hard tests, made paltry, eventually evolve into comestibles suitable for sustenance,
During spans when critters surface, stick slick tongues to the air, sneeze.
Winning ways, good desiccants all, help preserve food, fame, faded notions,
Plus personal glory, false eyelash clumps, toe glitter, even as pernicious beasts thrive.
It seems that while perfection remains underrated, overpaid, possibly trumped,
Unless Kingdom Come advises us against doing business with parlous louts,
Perdition scares few among the gold-diggers, politicians, scholarship seekers,
Beauty parlor entrepreneurs, or tennis instructors. After all, apostasy’s no siren;
The greater populace prefers to engage in prurient acts and refuses toothbrushes.
At best, hoards might be shuttled toward gaping maws to stuff full those orifices.
Sure, there’s little taste in officious hedge fund mongers, industrial tycoons, other thieves.
But officious clerks, too, give the heave ho whenever their peripatetic assemblages,
Cause suffering among citizens, in saloons, at rave parties, maybe behind schoolyards.
Anarchy’s clarion’s silenced. Plenty of tocsins stay around to clean up business.
