The art of the insult isn't quaint
It takes enough nerve and grit
And imagination to paint
A picture as grim as a legal writ.
Divas imagine,they splurge, they dance
On thin invisible air.
Divas fly at the nearest chance
To be uncaring and unfair.
So when divas and insults meet
Sparks of debauchery fill common speech.
Divas storm the earth in a renegade fleet
Pushing propriety out of common reach.
But the world still chooses to smile,
As they follow in the ignorant bliss
Of malapropism coated with sugary guile,
Only to fall into the senseless,verbose cranial abyss.