The Demon Bean

The Demon Bean
First sip, last drip, scrumptious
No drink can comfort, the parched dry mouth
Recover from mornings, the sentient self
Quite like the demon bean
Devilishly moreish, whoreish even as I sip her wares
With cinnamon toast for company
Not love, nor utopia compares
Arabica, I shout, the cavernous yawn expectant
Smells the roast, hears the china cup
And like magic the corpse is resurrectant
Then with a thank you God and a splash of cream
I do baptize the demon bean
The Daddy
All day protection for the crabby
The pour, the nestling in one’s hand, the craft
Rituals to calm the soul, homogenise the heart
So, bump and grind that bean
Do not stint on the velvety smooth Italian
Or recoil from the thimble of treacle
If Turkish, or Greek is your Valium
No, indulge my brothers and sisters
Till all that’s left is a froth moustache
To lighten the mood, tickle your whiskers
Then life you can face renewed, redeemed
And you owe it all to the demon bean

From the UK, Mark Niedzwiedz is a professional composer and lyricist. So far, Mark’s poems have appeared in poetry journals such as Grey Sparrow, Oddville Press, Scritura, Wink, Rat’s Arse review, Sac, Literary Heist, Harbinger Asylum, SHiFT, Blaze, The Big Windows Review and elsewhere.

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