Tongue in Cheek—Pen in Hand

I don’t know where I am going
with this required poem
I don’t where to land
with a poem on demand.

It was a friend who spoke to me thus,
tempting me to quietly cuss,
but uttered not a single sound
at being ordered like that around.

I don’t care of iota
whether or not I feel my quota.
It’s what I had already said:
I was already three poems ahead.

Better not boss around a bard,
no matter who you think thou art.

Art cannot be compelled,
lest the tender urge be quelled.

So there…
get out of my hair.
That’s it.
Now git!