St Valentine's Day Massacre

A Valentine's Day storm of lead

Has rendered Reeva Steenkamp dead.

Oscar's pissed on all of us

And yet his fans still make a fuss

Of a man you'd think they'd curse.

The details are yet to come out,

Yet Oscar's fans jump up and shout

His innocence to all who'll hear

Which fills me with a dismal fear

That he'll cheat justice with some lie.

The new cult of celebrity

Has left some cold including me,

We'd rather have equality

Before the law, to set us free.

Reason has been quite displaced

In thoughts of half the human race

By cults of personality

Or even of brand loyalty.

The modern world is so perverse

A twittering land of meaning lost

Soundbite or devious comment terse

Have replaced deep deliberation,

For which we'll pay a dreadful cost

In a weakened civilisation.

Disgusted by the news of Oscar's fans all rallying round him, persuaded by a story planted on the Internet, possibly before Ms Steenkamp was even dead.