With the lies
Ohmygod the phants
Make merry with their spew-filled rants
Ending with a childish
Not childlike, unendearing poutish.
Go are the innuendo,
Or outuendo:
Placed instead are
Hate on hate.
Alarm by the backlash they cry:
That
Every shovel full
States it is not true.
Yet is so clear,
Over the sky of true -
Underneath the stamp of lies.