Like the dunny door it
simply bangs incessantly
until your patience thins
You can refuse to hear
it if you fry your brains
in oil with vapid apathy
A fear is that it might be
right and sadly true but
then again it might be wind
You’ve clearly had enough
if you accede too meekly
to its patent bullying
This cringing metaphor is
brazenness acclaimed
as an incipient authority
While I can see it is a
pannier of cabbage leaves
and boiled salty beans
© 2 February 2010, I. D. Carswell
