by Chris O’Carroll
Electric Kool-Aid acid tested prose—
A pyrotechnic style that zings, bursts, glows,
Word spasms, verbal throes and lava flows—
Dressed up the prim tsk-tsk outlook he chose
In cranky volumes written to expose
The trends he tagged as fast as they arose.
His kandy-kolored tangerine-flake prose
And dude-with-razzmatazz-aplenty clothes
Might sometimes tempt a reader to suppose
That his persona—showboat wiz who knows
More than most others how the story goes—
Is semi-right stuff, semi-desperate pose.