Here's an old story of how a poet used satire creatively and constructively at the same time.
A long-standing dispute between two tribes beat the usual path to resolution: an army from Tribe A took one side of the field of battle, while Tribe B's bravehearts lined up opposite. As was the tradition, each side gave a turn to its best poet before the battle began.
The first bard did what was expected, singing the praises of his tribe and trying to frighten the other side out of its wits.
The second bard did something else. After a short peon to his tribe's military prowess, he began to make fun of the other tribe. In doing so, he made a pun on that other tribe's name. This pun was so good, it made his tribe start laughing. Then some bystanders started laughing, too. The other tribe's king started to look embarrassed, and his generals began to turn away.
The result? The other tribe quit the field. But instead of go back to their homeland, they actually joined a neighboring tribe and took their name!
In other words, the pun was so effective that it stuck. And the poet had not only saved many lives from among his tribesmen, he also eliminated the enemy completely -- without killing a single person.
Although it's not a part of the story (as I heard it), I'm betting he nailed the pun with a rhyme.
As far as English traditional poesy goes, you can take the tack of Chaucer and leave 'em all with aching sides, or do like Pope by condemning "not the sinner, but the sin." Either way, your responsibility as a poet remains intact when you use satire.
After all, aren't we all just as guilty?
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