Just Deserts

Early Retirement in a number of ways, and racism

He got his. Certainly seems so, just deserts

Thirty stone? And thought we were all squirts

Couldn’t climb stairs, couldn’t arrive on time

Yet philosophised when he wrote in rhyme

Talked himself silly. Talked like a knife

He was talking himself right out of life

He turned the heat up too high. Just deserts

It all went bang, with shouts and blurts

Some take that path, to their graves

Want their little toes to make great waves

I’m sure, happy-ever-after it became

Though many think highly when hear his name

Pals held his head high, before the just deserts

He’d known what he could expect from those dirts

They were so ready to show me the door

And they shut up so fast, when that day they saw

Then recklessly, they put everyone on hold

And quickly helped draft a story to be told

So that he wouldn’t get any just deserts,

- a scapegoat…. I was to wear the red alerts

While the boulders settled they kept me away

The contented dogs dozed, safe where they lay

Straight faces hid their joy ride

To that tiny place dubbed ‘the dark side’

A carefully hatched plot for me… just deserts

One stone and two birds (for the pun, one wears skirts)

Bird number one – racist attack, on a bird

Bird number two – psychological, on me, ‘the nerd’

A knife at her, and all round terror struck deep

With shame at me…. they made me look asleep

Not so naïve, I avoided my un- just deserts

He’d have got me right where it hurts

Little effort that would have had me for lunch

Little effort that had a sixty-stone punch

Trademark style, it would hurt still more

If the idleness had insulted me out the boss’s door

A final twist, stirring again the just deserts

Which takes out the rot this cliché asserts

His favourite act had been to perform a trick…

Results… from what makes others… tick or not tick

But it all stopped him, totally, right in his track

When they came for him in a fatal revenge attack.