Words are Turds

Wrong words in reviews are turds –
once posted they never return –
they fly away wild - free birds,
while our cheeks with embarrassment burn.
Our poetry? Yes, we can edit,
sometimes much to our discredit,

but have you ever tried to edit a turd?
Why! The concept is simply absurd!

So I ponder on much in my cups,
and when I get the hiccoughs,
I know I should ponder and pause
before posting vacuous applause
or ill-thought-out, drink-fuelled comments
that spring from those drunken moments

when all I can see is absolute sense
in total utter fucking nonsense,

or nothing in something profound
that later seems totally sound.
So then I post an apology,
a grovelling heart-felt eulogy,
on somebody’s sweated work
and if they’re not a jerk,

I try taking back what I’ve only just written,
but by then they may well be totally smitten

by anger, angst and pain,
and then, yet once again,
I try flushing the lavatory of words,
but like all our healthy turds,
the best of all are the floaters,
the healthy free-call  voters.

They pop up, surface, float and  remain
to leave a hideously malodorous stain.