The beggar



Deprivation; frustration.
Sedimentation; constipation.
And rotting.

As he lay down,
His feet curled up from the ground;
The only thing that he found, as he drowned,
Was, sound.

No rescue unfolded.
And yes, loathèd!

Tried, cried,
Then sighed.

A clever lover would mother,
No detriment to pass from one to the other.
Now kissed and cuddled,
Hopeful but muddled.

If one is ill, we are ill!
When one is felled, ring the bells;
Lest they toll not for thee.

Disabled Exile 2017.

I heard a Councillor talking about the need to move beggars on from Leeds town centre as it wasn’t “aesthetically pleasing”. Vacuous



Leave a Reply

Please log in using one of these methods to post your comment: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s