Contempt Corrupts Its Crucible Poem by John Sensele

Break not through open doors
Waste no energy to settle scores
Or lose fives, wishing to choose fours

Searching for answers in perdition places
Singling out stunted strategies to run royal races
Running out of roses, reaping sown stresses

Addressing mundane mood, acting bad
Wishing happy, weeping sad
Sneezing snappy, mumbling mad

World upside down
Tearing to pieces eiderdown
Turning into a clumsy clown

In the long run, brashness is a no brainer
Can't harvest wisdom in a strainer
Contempt corrupts its crucible, its container.