Here's a poem I wrote on a whim. Of course, the matter is sub judice and every suspect should be presumed innocent until proven guilty. With that caveat...
Was famously victorious
In more than one field of endeavour.
Far from being bloodied,
He outraced the able-bodied,
And bowled a fair maiden over.
But the boy who was limpin'
Then became a paralympian
Raced to his own ignominy.
Whispers of domestic violence
And a girl explosively silenced
Suggested possible misogyny.
Gunshots saw him dart
With an explosive start
To reach medal-winning glory.
But an explosive temper
And four gunshots to remember
Ended the dream story.
Initially denied bail,
And sent straight to jail,
They thought he'd do a runner.
(Thought he'd cut and run;
What an unintentional pun
On the name Blade Runner!)
Tearful and serious
He told a likely storius
Of taking his girlfriend for a burglar.
To escape a conviction,
He emoted with conviction.
Pity there's no Oscar for Oscar!
Carl, Oscar's elder brother
Is no less a lady-killer.
He ran over a woman with his car.
It "runs" in their family
Running over, or running simply,
And they share the letters C-A-R.
A boy who is lame
Can light an Olympic flame
And sing the body prosthetic.
But when a story lacks legs
The question it begs
Is how lame is this story synthetic?
For carjacking and vengeance
And anti-women violence
Is South Africa notorious.
What this springbok sayeth
Requires a leap of faith
Because it's highly piscatorious.
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