No Masses Can Speak

Some trash-talking jerk is acting so pert,
Because all his strikes make him feel like such dirt…
So let’s go berserk instead of chiding some squirt,
As Rod Stewart’s Young Turk does happily assert.

The challenge in bowling: folks just let us play,
And the miss they’re extolling is a phony display;
So hard to keep rolling, can’t have things our way,
But we must keep on trolling, it’s just not our day!

One final effort shall make us feel bland,
Then some noisy blurt and we can’t make a stand!
Should we now show some hurt as the dark blow does land?
Now all are alert as the sport does demand…

In the end, we avenge and their efforts do wreak,
No more will they scavenge for the proper technique…
It’s all for revenge when the masses do speak,
Act more like Stonehenge and our scores duly peak!

We’re all only human and those are the breaks –
Balls will be zoomin’ amid all the heartaches…
If you’ve heard of lane groomin’, there’s gutters and lakes;
And if the ball’s loomin’, oh how the pin shakes!