Good Taste

It was an ongoing debate
that never tended to abate.
One friend was too prone to oration
concerning the education
of her friend much given to
items that were too frou-frou:
clothing full of frills and ruching,
fluffy pillows good for smooshing,
carved furniture too ornate.
She feared bad taste would be her fate
forever unless she stepped in 
to counteract what might have been. 

She tried to teach her friend restraint
in ornaments and clothes and paint.
She tended to excoriate
items that were too ornate, 
curbing her psychedelic bent
while showing her what Bauhaus meant.
She declared ruffled skirts too silly,
weeding out what was too frilly.
And though her friend declared it wasteful, 
she threw out all that was not tasteful.
Ignoring her friend’s deep depression
as she culled out each possession.

She honed her house goods, cleared her shelves,
deprived her yard of frogs and elves.
Gave her flamingos to Good Will,
banned nicknacks on her window sill.
So finally, when she was through
relieving her of garish hue,
replacing all her things with new,
the friend knew what she had to do.
Her belongings spare, her wardrobe small,
her house was sparse, from wall-to-wall.
The most that she could say of it
was it was tasteful, but lacking wit.

‘Til when the culling was all ended,
the one thing left that still offended
was the friend who had advised her.
By the end, how she despised her.
So, with her training in good taste,
she acted now in confidant haste.
She first picked up, quickly upending
one last thing that needed tending—
dragged it clear across the floor
and tossed it out of her front door.
And that is how it came to pass
she pitched her friend out on her ass!

For more examples of extreme bad taste, go to A Visit to the Weird.

For Daily Addictions: Ornate.