Control Your Tongue Poem by John Sensele

A rush of mad blood to your head
Means you blow away a chance to wed
Or if you wed you wallow in a lonely bed
Where you sow sadness and reap dread.

A cool thought before uttering crap
Ensures you dribble, dodge the trap
That springs up to sketch a mad map
For a callow, sorrow, hollow lap

Which you and your shadow run
As partners you choose to lose stun
You and your temper which they shun
Whether you a Sudanese skin or a temperate tan.

Take a deep breath before your tongue
Turns a mild moment into a boisterous bang
That irritates both the old, the young
When you trot to the port of sordid slang.