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Poem

The tempest in a teapot,
sits there as it may,
though it bothers none,
that is bothersome,
though bother surely begot.

The tempest in a teapot,
sits there and bestilled,
control the free will,
is absolute nil,
but left alone it was naught.

A cluster of clucking hens,
tempts teapot defends,
foxes from their dens,
rounds bout like loose ends,
This court teapot it depends.

So tempest in a teapot,
neither cold nor hot,
what does one use you,
if you are naught true,
teapot through and through, begot.

Still answers naught my teapot,
... teapot you are naught,
on the contrary,
my temporary,
tempest through and through begot,

From over here, my teapot,
you can see better,
they call themselves stars,
from right where you are,
stars, and you--teapot you're naught.

Diamond high up in the sky
shines bright, naught know why,
craft gift, can't deny,
nor jinx goes awry
this conundrum, our black eye.

So tempest then, here again,
why do you remain,
you chose naught to leave,
nor opts just to be,
a tempest, teapot, but vain.

I am that I am, and I
know who I am, --(speak)
my abilities ...,
--(go on, we're listening,)
chaos and mayhem, ... my friend!

Oh, tempest in a teapot,
whate'er do you mean?
[Tempest speaks to those in shadows] You in shadiness ...,
INSTINCTS digresses?
[background howling chaos caused clucking mayhem]
*DEVOIR, --tempest in teapot.

*DEVOIR: performance of one's duty

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