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When I was only two bricks and a ticky high I wrote my first ever treatise

Three blind mice unbeknown to me highly philosophical not just to please

The Gods of poetry duty bound on their quest to proofread censor and edit

My naïve imagination and fantastical mind they simply would not credit


Since then I’ve moved on to more realistic poems topics themes of passion

Crimes battles conjectures refutations marginalization in critical fashion

Three horsemen of the apocalypse trinity triangular thoughts ménage à trois

Lust love death betrayal injustice and triads of champagne caviar and foie gras 


Hunger and poverty contra-posing luxury greed bombs shrapnel and aggression

The mice are not so blind any longer to evil or conquest and in one session

Of writing I cover more than foul smelling cheese contempt and a mouth trap

Open your eyes I suggest but be aware that you will have to ponder and unwrap


My rhymes verses allegories and metaphors come three to a bloody shilling

Pieces of silver pot of tar at the end of a rainbow but you have to be willing

To inscribe your own meaning to my writings and shed your deluded illusion

That poesy and balladry is only to suit your cause there will be mental contusion


I’ll shout like a rodent from the marble mantlepiece of your decadent abode

Crap on the carpet rattle your cage until you collapse in agony and corrode

Take the carpet from under your feet and replace it with venomous gifts

Until you let go off your crystal decanter of falseness to welcome a shift


Of consciousness comfort and conscience of classical allegiances’ deceit 

Questions truths and foundations of hypocrisy only you are able to retreat

Into novel awareness away from your sewer manholes and decadent stench

Remove the cataracts that impede your vision and look at the deep trench


Which my little mice can easily jump out from for they’re not smelly as such

Want to live in peace eat a few crumbs with no effort they don’t ask for much

Do not need your blinkers's futile explanations and can’t count one two three

Whereas you could if you applied a bit less blindsight and looked for the key


Love does not come from complacency and self-serving pleasure quite contraire 

Kindness is free and unconditional it only involves warmth and empathic care

Compassion starts with affection consideration tolerance patience and good will

My poetry comes with a label of warning read at your peril because it may kill



09th October 2020 

A Poet's Duty Contest

Sponsor Beth Evans
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