i will not mute my purr
to pounce on a teasing string
winding along the filthy floor
or pause the paw bath of my fur.

i am the disciple of this poetic discipline
unwilling to betray my art
for any amount of silver coins
or ruby-lined diamond rings.

money and even security fall
relegated into the plaything tier
in the kingdom with me where my voice
though without the skill of king Midas
speaks truth, reigning supreme.

i have too much pride to stand-by
while my artistic spirit is cast aside
in the name of peace or long-legged favour
dressed in a short skirt
egging me on to lustfully submit.
  

for my pride
i will keep thrusting until i die