O - I have my poems

I have my poems.
Last dark, a scally says to me, "Give me your money!"
So I read him a poem.
He looks at me like this: "Eh?"
And runs away.
The day before, I'm selling hotdogs.
A fat man asks, "Any hotdogs?"
I say "No, but I can write you a poem about hotdogs."
He's like: "Go on then."
I have my poems.

I have my poems.
Poor old Bukowski; he didn't keep copies.
Won't happen to me.
My poems are baby spiders, on the Web
waiting for the vibrations
of a frantic fly.
And that's why
Jonny Smackhead, you can steal my laptop
but you can't steal my poems.
They stay with me.
I have my poems.

I have my poems.
I can shoot you with a poem.
The poem
makes two fingers and a thumb into a gun. Ts, ts.
Pow!
"Mum! The reader won't die!"
You can't get to me any more.
A bullyproof vest, my poems
protect me.
You can keep your sport, your walks,
ice cream, streetwalkers, ambition at work:
I have my poems.