Too Many Free Rides

Fat people park their cars get out and shop

Drinks and cigarettes; young waddling overweight

Prohibited car parking seems as if it never could

Mean anything but: Park

 

As near the grocery entrances as the space permits

In jam and gridlock cars pile up in stacks outside

Minimum walkers, young people, go fat and pastey pale

Bigger than I myself am: 20 stone

 

No consciousness, compunction, understanding of the shape

Their bodies are not in; nor none for crippled guys

Or elderly whose journeys all the further, necessarily,

No spaces left, and neither fellow-feeling

 

All hours into the late of evenings day on day

Cars and small vans draw up – unnecessary slams of doors –

Fat guys and fat dolls loll out pour their bodies from the seats

Inflated Mr Blobby bubbles wandering into care

 

Fat guys fat ladies early middle aged

Floating on pavement motorscooters, the resplendently disabled

Hazards pedestrians have to spot, at speed they sit and shop

Too arsed to walk the distance are their minds; that roll

 

Instead upon their special pleadings, welfare claims that oil the wheels

Claimant forsooth, impute a disability, a tidy sum

Donated, sequestrasted, from the public purse

Buys buggies, motor cars, bus fares, respite, outings, and tired ennui

 

Thinking it smart to be beseemed a mid-life cripple

Throwing oneself on State compassion for the not so sick

Excepting such have attitudes to life and independence

Are sick; OK to be a failure as a person

 

If fat submerges minds, their minds are sunken

Into a pillowed squadge of olio-like cream

Smothering derrogations in a deadened indolence

Dead in the water lie their honest civic lives

 

Only their physical bodies linger yet to catch up

By dying with their outlooks which count barren thought

To linger out longer they draw on the bounteous gratis boons

Of A&E and Casualty and mass prescription calls

 

And to what object no-one thinking really knows

Clinging to living deaths with such tenacious agony

Drawing off too much fabric from upright society

Hamstringing impetus and urgency to heed

 

The lame the sick the poor the guys in clear and present need

At home across the world our giving figures fall fatigued

Too many causes, rude, bad instances of loose abuse

Following gravy trains of faking it

 

Even are daily beggars on the busy public streets

A pollution; lazy bones rather would they ply and skim

As counterfeited indigents by facile false pretences:

Could work, could help themselves, and not take penury’s pence

 

Soft soaping, selling pity, moving passers-by to grieve

Then hooking straight with comrades thronging up and down the street

Dividing up the spoils, accept of someone elses bread

So keep themselves in liquors

 

And thus are alms curtailed for needy damaged goods

Who interspersed amongst them need a spell in wards

And treatment, caring for; poor paupers in a bad way

Persons life-dwindling straightway right before one’s eyes

 

Who cannot help themselves, by whose leave others

Make mockery their state, fake tacit imitations

Untruthful insincere thereby demolishing good faith

And ample moral fabric by their ugly subterfuge

 

These dudes who will refuse all help because

This life is one they choose to further, perpetrate,

Offers of shelter send them spinning helter-skelter on their way

Aghast at rocket speed their legs are up and running

 

Or offer them some small change being all your pocket

‘Forget it’; signally too light to make their want prevail;

Not good enough for no-goods, playact fussy bedesmen,

Not an affront; just scathing

 

Such is our world in many places in these times

Too many of us well-content to win our mealboard sideways

Begging on streets or propagating shady business coups;

Scams recognised by law disgrace their culprits and our life

 

Too many easy-money chasers set for easy bucks

Creasing out crooked wheezes, subtleties that soak the system,

Money rackets miring vital store of self-esteem

In each of us, by pitch are all defiled.

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