The Sturdy Beggar

[tectak]

He bears a cornucopia
of psychiatric symptoms
and gives me claustrophobia
when I spot him in the distance.
Instantly I’m lonelier,
that old familiar sickness:
the seasoned melancholia seasoned is excellent so I dare not hint that youmight have meant seasonal
that turkeys feel at Christmas.
He’s purporting to be holier
but as Heaven is my witness,
he’s out to get one over you
and he'd screw his ma for sixpence.
Beware the gloomy brochure -
he isn’t kosher.

He’ll sing a song of suicide
and the cuffs upon his wrists
will rise enough to catch my eyes
but I’m unconvinced by this.
I recognise who’s bona fide
and he isn’t on that list.
He starts a war and then subsides
when the touch-paper is lit,
conquers you and then divides
your loyalties bit by bit;
he sells weapons to both sides
though he knows it’s not legit.
He’s gamekeeper and poacher -
he isn’t kosher.

I’ve had more than my quota
of his brainless, boorish banter.
There ought to be a rota,
someone else should have to answer
when his mouth begins to motor
as he pulls another flanker
while lay sprawled across the sofa
where his arse has dropped the anchor.
Watch him play the passive smoker
while infecting us with cancer!
How I wish he were remoter
than the coast of Sri Lanka! off Casablanca
He’s a hoodwinker and hoaxer –
he isn’t kosher.

Marry me. Love it. Smooth, accomplished, purposeful, meaningful, rhyhmical.
Very good write. Almost dares criticism!
Best,
Tectak