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The Web Poetry Corner - M A Heathcote - An accommodating beggar

An accommodating beggar


M A Heathcote

I live in a cardboard box
On my hands and knees,
It isnít much; but Iím, easily, pleased.
Pay a denomination,
If it pleases, you!
Have some faith,
Have some mercy,
For my hungry, humbling, salvation; sir!
And Iíll pray, and Iíll weep; for you!

Iíll live in the hope of a bed
A bed of straw
A manger or a whole lot more!
It isnít easy, and I can, see
You arenít amused, with me!
But Iím a beggar, and Iím going, blind:
Wonít anyone take pity?
Wonít someone?
Wonít some of you? Be kind?
To me!

Because Iím living in a gutter
Iím melting away--like, lardy, green-butter
And I didnít atoll to any good, school.
My father he was a poor manís butcher
He liked to tenderize my soul
Till he broke both the skin and the bone
Till Iíd howl like a mule
Till I got a whole much, older
So, you see; why I soon left, home.

Wonít anyone take pity?
Wonít someone?
Wonít some of you? Be kind?
Iím only a beggar; a vagabond,
In a big city pond:

Iím just an accommodating beggar
Who likes the wind and rain?
Who likes the thunder and the lightening?
Who likes all you people, glowing with fame?
But Iím just an accommodating beggar
I donít even recall my own name.
It might have of been, Peter
It even might have been, Paul
But I havenít got a dickybird
Clue; who I am, anymore...
Not since the liquor...
And the insanity of it all
-came to call...

Iím just a beggar on a broken crutch,
Pissing-up a prison wall on a hunch
That maybe Iím just, too" pensive"
Maybe Iím just too" easily scrutinized"
And thatís why Iím starving,
And now staring into your hollow deadpan "eyes"

Whilst these carrion beasts of insanity
Still do their surgery
On my kitchen soup empty bowl of a mind,
Oh Iím so vulnerable
Wonít anyone take pity?
Wonít someone?
Wonít some of you? Be kind?

Cause Iím just an accommodating beggar
Take your choice what ails me sir!
But pay a denomination,
For my starving, salvation
Just give it up free
Be kind, lady dollar bill
Take pity on me
I may not be here very long
In this big old city, pond:

To visit all of M A Heathcote's poems, click HERE

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