Spread me lightly
for I have sinned.
Chant me a tune while
I bang the hammer.
Pump up the hookah pipes –
just a little party, nothing swanky
only the bar stools look
slouched and lonely – solitudes
I have the knack of being immune
so no more of your sick notes on poverty –
defunct coinage and hunger.
You climbed in through the window
Then please be so kind
as to exit round the back, via the
door marked no entry.
Don’t sulk rejections are never
pondered – in suburbia.
Be warned – we always bury our dead.
Poppy 2012 ~xx~