Mar draft on stormy sand, and the charge
With silence will fry the star
Wired in manner sufficiently large
For death-gift, though guilt is far.
The only way I can think of this week to write a verse using the given words, and very few extra, is to offer a
Lies mar the draft of the evidence, and a defence witness chooses silence. The movie star accused, though innocent, goes to the electric chair.
One can also let the imagination ramble to visualise other scenarios from this rhyme if so inclined.