Death by Poetry


I write my poems with a special blue ringed octopus ink.
With a puffer fish tetrodotoxin poison for good measure mixed in.
These words of mine may leave you breathless feeling numb.
The shock to your immune system sadly has already begun.

That's why my poems can be so deceptively deadly.
You don't even realise what kind danger you are in.
Stop reading this poem, Now !
Before a lethal dose of my poetry gets under your skin.

As my poem gently snakes down this page.
It is just like a serpent hiding in plain sight
Like a black mamba striking out the shadows.
You will only know the danger when you feel my words bite.

There is always a hidden danger in the most innocent of things.
Even my full stops and punctuation marks are made from using scorpion stings.
I can write with such venom it can stop your heart.
When the poison kicks in, it will tear your world apart.

There is no known antidote and it is far too late anyway for a cure.
You will die with my words on your dying lips, but yearning for more.
Because I write such killer poetry of this there is no doubt.
My apologies I am sorry for killing you, I didn't mean to take you out.

I gave you all the time to stop reading and fair forewarning in advance.
If you're still reading this poem then I'm sorry to tell you, you've got no chance.
In the next few minutes you will start to suffer and feel a little queasy.
Dying for poetry is very noble, but a death like this is never going to be easy.

But don't worry when you die you will probably have the last laugh.
As I promise I will write you a poem in your Memory as a fitting epitaph.

PTG © copyright Paul Griffiths, a Birkenhead poet