• Martin Wardley

Repetition, repetition

Simply words would oft suffice

But he churns out through a hefty tome

What warrants a synopsis

Is laboured, pious, overblown

He takes a single statement

And embellishes until

The room is filled with silent looks

And confusion fits the bill

He considers him a wordsmith

But instead, he forges ahead

With abandoned repetition

Repetition, repetition, repetition

To perpetuate the suspicion

He’s remarkably well read

But with all this perceived wisdom

With which he is adorned and endowed

He lacks the basic gift

To simply read the crowd

8th July 2021

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