Today's poem: W Z 8 by Owen Yeates

"My name is W. Z, 8. I do not start work until late You may recognize my orange hue As I clearly come into your view

I am a street lamp, here I always stand Life for me is not always grand I'm going rusty though covered in galvanise This drab grey colour I really do despise

Your dogs they love to wee up ne How would it be if I gave them a jolt of electricity? They hang scoop the poop signs on me Can someone tell me where's my dignity

I am not political yet every election They hang their signs on me it looks like an infection Pictures upon me of a lost cat or dog My yellow light lets you see them in the fog

Sometime my bulb may just get broke All the other lamps they make jokes At night I see tramps sleeping in boxes That and the owls and the urban foxes

They say Prince Charles likes to hug a tree Can someone tell me why no one will hug me? Is it that I'm about twenty feet tall Do I not provide a service to you all?

So after this I hope you appreciate Me working in the dark and very late In the future don't hit me with your car Because my life is already hard enough by far"

...get what you pay for I guess. :/