The Beggar

By: Jack Rutman, Mar 30, 2022


As I walk the empty street, the winding path, the timeless beat ,
There lies a beggar undernieth, who sits out by my door
He lies there fading, drunken, shaking, crying out at his unmaking
For the devil has such taken, his worthless soul,

His god and country, have no power, for when it hits the boozing hour
they may as well just duck and cower
as his druken wish implore

He finds sole recourse from the bottle, That poisons souls and corpses mottle
That dead men weep and love and coddle,
that thrusts them on the floor

And still the bottle breaths anew
The childish spark, the morning dew
The breathing hum, electric light,
the swirling sky, the twinkling night

Did god create unearthly skies?
Or satan draw its thin disguise?
I could have sworn I never knew
That life could be so fresh, so new

And so I do not deign to judge, his wiley drink, unearthly sludge
For how could I wont to compare, my common trifles, pointless cares

Oh when he lies there, pensive calm,
so weather beaten, wistful, gone
The worries of the world and more,
lay vacant, dead, upon the shore.