In My Poems Colorants and Deodorants

In my poems would be found colorants, For the foul-smelling deodorants: An advance interception of rants; I’m dealing with human beings, not plants! With Poetry busy like The Ants, To deodorants shall be more grants… In my poems exist, too, colorants And when they find the space sibilants, Their piloting pen Phonetician By linguistics made Sound Magician… Here and there purposed attacks of fact, No doubt, for the sake of impact; Yet, with Candor a Palpable Pact If not the case, would have cons packed.