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.
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