A Yellow silk scarf
He bought a yellow silk scarf at a second-hand shop
In Cheshire, the type actors were, when meeting for
A drinks party; the mirror told me he wore the scarf
With seedy elegance, which normally comes to those
Who has no self-awareness, better still, ignores what
Other people think.
In Ashdod, someone broke into his cabin, the thief
Stole his Ronson lighter, he could overlook that
But his yellow silk scarf went unforgiven forever

I’m a flower with drooping ears
Uranium is the best snack for me

  I water myself ever night to make sure I stay ripe
  I heard the thunder scream “not again.”
  A bird watched me implode politely.
  Bees avoid me like taxes.
Sometimes I sit in the sink
Talking to dishes I refuse to wash.
I once tried to talk to a lightbulb,
It turned on, then went blind.

BAM!
  BAM!
    BAM!
      BAM!
 ­       BAM!

Caught.
Chainsawed the product.
No one asked what the product was.
They just clapped.

  BRAVO!

I wore a barcode of my favourite cereal as a scarf,
Told the cashier:
  “Scan me, I bruise easily.”
He called security.

My reflection told me:
  “You blink too much for a cyllinder.”
And I agreed.
Then blinked four times, fast.
  (That was the code for “leave me broken into thirds and believable halves.”)

I’m a memory someone scribbled over.
I’m the museum you build around your hostel.
I’m a vending machine that sells only change
And money is required for usage.

The floor tried to arrest me.
The ceiling held a grudge against me.
The windows applied for workers’ comp.
  And
  I told the walls I loved them.

They said:
  “You only say that when you’re hurting.”
My response:
  “Calamari doesn’t scream, and neither do I.”

Someday you will cry for me
Like I cried for you.
Someday you'll miss me
Like I missed you.
Someday you'll need me
Like I needed you.
Someday you'll love me,
But I won't love you.

It looked like muddy grounds where small dusty roses growed wild on the gable end of a wooden barn. As a spinster spinned her wheel of wool the size of a yarn. Where intermediate surfaces laid doorment as she hid away from hideous minds. While she lowered her guard in the back of a interview room in Scotland yard. The smell of tea and wee displaced the air they breathed holding all colour, creed and race without shame and with disgrace. There the prisoner waits knowing no policeman's your mate. Elbows in windows as belts and pistons drives there jam jars. Searching for another criminal to put safely behind bars as a prison guard looks up at the stars. Knowing this is ornate world as they lie on a gauntness sofa with blistering leather that craved a different stage trying to trick the judge. That they all have a different mental age while trying not to hold a grudge as they calm there own rage. This daunting life where they wear stripes fighting against right and wrong living under a deceitful con. While blades melts into brush displacing there medieval amour with surnames and number on signs knowing extra days squashing there fines. To get to the truth you will hear so many lies.

They told me to whisper,
But cut my tongue when I lowered my voice.

They said:
  “Say what you want,”
  And soldered my mouth up instantly.

I stared at someone too loudly.
My lack of response was interrogated,
My chains like barbed wire,
Becoming tighter anytime I speak.

Simple Sam was a simple man.
He lived each day by a simple plan.
Enjoy your life and live while you can.
Make each day count and take a stand.

Stand on the left or stand on the right,
Whichever one you think is right.
Live each day as if your last.
Life's too short and gone too fast.