Pleasure Is His Treasure

He lights cigarettes not his regular, The Poorest Tobacco making popular, For it parting with hard earned chinks And its service enjoying with blinks; Beer not his proclaimed Brand Still finds its way into his hand; To its bringer The Longest Hug, Much of the beer spilled on a rug … A woman in the skin-tight Has made her flaws light, He willing to be quiet And concentrate on inner riot … He is The Permissive Hedonist, Not qualified to rubbish An Animist: Feeder on Worldly Pleasures, Bat-blind to other treasures.