Mess

 

There once was a terrible mess

All over the house I confess

But it was not mine

Who made it this time

I will not clean it under duress

 

The room is an absolute state

There is not a second to wait

Two nights in a row

The dreams they did show

That people have lost touch with fate

 

It looks like some Branston pickle

Has fallen in ways which are fickle

All over the floor

Now blocking the door

And things are as sticky as treacle

 

If the right questions are found

When Mr Chaos abounds

One might start

To look in the heart

For ways and means that are sound

 

For behind secrets which are kept

Under grievances’ duvet well slept

One might find a clue

As to what is yet true

And not far under the carpet swept

 

A bacterial culture E. Coli

Multiplies under the sky

And this little strain

Enjoys a refrain

Feeding on fear in the pie

 

Two nights and dreamers both twice

Have dreams of messes and mice

Not ours to solve

Nor to evolve

It all hangs on a throw of the dice

 

So now these little rhymes

Are but signs of the times

Action quite quick

Before falling sick

Will stop anymore crimes

 

So in all the houses and homes

And beneath the sacred domes

Look for debris

Related to me

For what can be done to atone

 

If things continue to drift

Will open further a rift

That will not heal

Perhaps forever I feel

Now time to get on with the shift!!

 

So on this most misty of mornings

And just as the new day is dawning

The poet did write

As day follows night

To issue this song as a warning.