The Slayers Of Fun

Fun is
the enemy
to some stiff
folks
with their
inner
man
made of
granite and
a spirit
so
sour
and tart
as
vinegar,
in some
mean states,
and rigid
cruel
towns,
having a
blast is
illegal
and a
cardinal
offense
to disturb
those who
seethe,
so furious
in their
misery,
the
killjoys
and the
poopers
of
elation,
crapping
on your
glee
with a
rich
stink
stench
of
scorn
and it
leaves me
to wonder
if their
contempt
for fun
could
smite
them
dead