Perhaps you think I’m sitting here, amazed.
Egregious as the test you set me is,
the truth is, I am utterly unfazed.
Desultory, to me, this kind of quiz.
Of course I like a challenge. Don’t we all?
God’s chosen one? The lawyer. He gets his.
Concupiscence I’ll use (I have the gall):
attendant difficulties, I ignore.
Tough polysyllables? The merest squall
before the sunshine. What I most adore,
objectively, is playing with your mind:
you throw me junk, I somehow make it soar.
So do your worst. I thrive on rotten rind.
Opprobrium I effortlessly flout,
neglect embrace: contumely, leave behind.
The rancour’s like the Russians, put to rout,
or North Koreans, tied up, tamed and tazed.
You’ll try, but you will never catch me out.