My Pot

In a world where none

But I and thing exist

So much of my wants

Could that thing be

But when only one

Thing could I list

My wants are drained

To only my needs

Of all my needs

As there are many

One of their number

Comes to my mind

Tis' that which pleads

For man to be wary

Whenever it's prompting

Comes from behind

The need that plagues

All mankind

From their beginning

Until utter end

My blessed thing takes

Away the bind

That cometh from

Humanity's bend

A pot I say

A pot is the thing

That I would have

With me

With everyday

That I am being

A pot is what

I need

This pot is not

That which cooks stew

As one might

Would think

But rather this pot

Is known as a loo

And is characterized

By its stink

The reason for this

Is quite simple to see

If one just

Took the time

For a pot is

A necessity

And not a thing

That one just finds

On a pot you can sit

And think long about life

Meanwhile performing

The task

Of taking a bowel movement

And relieving your strife

Taking care to wipe your...

Just don't ask

Sure there is money

But what good would that do

Where nothing else

Transpires

There is milk, there is honey

But when it comes to poo

Nothing is quite

As dire

It is so daunting

To rank my needs

Of which there is

A lot

But of all my wantings

Of all necessities

All I desire is

My Pot