witch’s brewI’m needing the wart of a frog,
The soup of a Londoner’s fog,
The hair of a spider,
The dust of a rider,*
To make me a popular blog.

–by Yours Truly

Some bloggers are snipers, snug on a rooftop taking deadly aim. Others plunge into public places with scattered shot to murder, bloody and maim.

Yet others strap self-destruction around their torsos and explode themselves in hopes of applause and reward.

They write for maximum effect, vampires for show, their dead on display.

Their numbers prove their effectiveness. Caustic ridicule gains a crowd. Condemnation garners subscribers. The bigotry of tolerance wins awards and gathers adherents.

All the while lone voices in the melee find few ears, and reason falls in the square, trampled by feet rushing to Oprah’s.

*Your vote via a comment is needed: Should “rider” be replaced by “Slider”? Which of the two would you put for the rhyme in the fourth line of the limerick?

What do you think?

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