The only cure to this disease
Is that you never cease
To take this art by the scruff of the neck.
It’ll be at your call and beck:
Your ‘sufferation’ from ‘Poet-reukemia’
Is to be released by ‘Uthanasia’.
Otherwise, suffer in silence,
For we the critics are used to violence.
We’ll dismantle you bit by bit
And you’ll run out of your wit-
I say suffer, you’ve brought
It upon your own head, wrought
Your own downfall-
‘Tis your call!
*Written in response to ‘I’M TIRED OF POETRY’ by Eddy Ongili
Written by: Thamsanqa Job Mzamo
Edited by: Kukogho Iruesiri Samson