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"Nuts are in the soup!" 
That's what I've heard: not so absurd
Some add a pinch of spice now and then,
from wit and the sharpened nib of a pen.
Nutty little writers who like to fill
the soup with limericks about 'poop.'
But have other poetic skills.

An almond releases pain and sorrow in their heart.
Somewhere in their past they've been torn apart.
Of a delicate nature with words and expressions,
they bleed from pens with woes and confessions.
Honor their heartbreaks and the courage they unfold
for what may have been hidden can now be told.

Cashew writers are lightly roasted and salty.
I never find their poems faulty.
Cashew poets are artists, painting like Descartes.
Palettes laden with deep colorful thoughts,
not simply amusing, but often are confusing
I satirize in pun of those who hide in pretense,
But admire cashews and come to their defense.

Pecans are hard nuts but worth the time to crack.
Some turned rancid, their hulls molded black.
I take no pleasure of any measure from those
whose words are transparent and overly exposed.
But I drop in to read poems that are sweetmeats,
and every once in a while I'll leave a poem behind.
If you don't read my simple words, I don't mind.

What kind of nut is it, who always seems to think
other poets here are just wasting time and ink.
They feel their poems should be crowned "the best."
PLEASE, you haughty boasters, give it a rest.
There are poets here who could eat your scrawls for dinner,
leaving you in tears, because you think you're the winner.
You really are the PS peanuts, nigglers of the lot.
Use your poetry when you visit the poopy pot.

Now I've learned there are naughty trolls
jumping in blogs to take control.
Nuts who lurk behind the woodwork,
but never posting poetry. Isn't this a poetry site?
They rush to blogs to incite 
with their 'good ol' boy' fun. 
Not so brave when alone. Bullies I can't condone.
In a pack they'll feed off each other forever
with quips and taunts they think they're clever.
Male and female...both carry an obnoxious scent.
What do you heckling nuts gain in this fashion?
Why don't you write a poem of passion?

My opinion doesn't count for much
since I seldom paper the PS halls with poems of my own.
Simply stating observations without reservation.
Call me a nut, and I'll smile and say,
"Thank you. You just made my day."
Shake your fingers at me in derision, 
nod your head in agreement. It's subjective vision.
I'm saying what sometimes needs to be said,
"I don't feed the egos of those who want to be fed."
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