The Infestation of Soup

I've been contemplating the tastelessness of the soup being served on site. The difference between what's sweet and sour is noticeable in every bite. It's not just the infusion of artificial intelligence that leaves the soup bitter, but poetry that's been stolen from others that stinks worse than kitty litter. Months ago it was perceived by many PS poets, that there had been an influx of so called 'poets' posting 'poetry,' but quite frankly... most of it just sucks. And then there is the returnee woman who holds contests entering her own with names who returned with her in a scam that no one should condone. There remains the do-goodies, who continue to claim they've been victimized but that story is so old that it is known as garbage and needs to be sterilized. A butcher, baker and candlestick maker, who burns his candle on both ends, still hangs around but nothing he says is believed and cannot make amends. A quill is meant for writing and not for fencing with neither parry nor thrust. Take care who you accept to be a friend for it's not always one you can trust. I've turned off commenting or the trolls will be feeding on my every word those floating in soup's toilet bowl, who should be flushed like a stinking turd. I'll also post this as a poem in the usual manner of poetry on this flawed site for those who wisely don't pay attention to blogs where bullies post smite. The soup kitchen needs a Gordon Ramsay visit to free it from rats and mice because it's been infested with toxic waste that some have labeled 'spice.'