A beggar’s bowl bonanza

 

This life has a victim and a killer

This life has a preacher and a sinner

This life has a poem a four line stanza

This life has a beggar’s bowl bonanza

That can either really cleanse you

Or poison your soul.

 

This life has a dark angel

And a desolate windmill…

Where you both grind

Both day and night!

At opposite ends of the stratosphere

To join wings, in a moment of flight.

 

This life has a woman giving birth

Claiming this divinity of life is a living hell

Whilst the father beams ear to ear

Holding a stranger near

Who is now dearer than her?

…As if that could ever be.

 

This life is like a cheap bottle of wine

You want to make ambrosia

Your very own Nirvana in rapture

But this life has you in a mild despair maligned

I swear, I swear, I swear, this life

It’ll have you going mad I do declare.

 

But this life has the bare bones

Of a mercurial magic; I swear

I do swear, I swear

When you find a young woman

And like a highwayman you have your way

With her jewels, when she offers her heart the very next day.