Outside Social Security, English beat poetry

Deaf Dave launches a tirade at Lennie, who agrees to leave reluctantly. Mister Smythe (nee Smith) gets up from where he sits, on an upturned bathtub, outside the social security, and walks off, through kicked shrubs, in a huff. Mister Singh smiles on serenely, planted on an abandoned armchair without a care; he's like a benevolent Jabba The Hutt, but, walking stick in hand, with all perceiving eyes like hazelnuts. Mark, wearing Singh's surreal Wu Tang Clan jacket, and a gap toothed expression of triumph, has returned victorious over Smythe from his game of Scrabble, two doorways along. Karen's mystified by it all with her bandaged hand - just muddling through. And me, I merely grin and laugh, I've seen it all before - these unintentional pranks of the rich yet poor. As nightfall descends these strange men hijack the institution upon which their existence depends.

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Mark Darlow, you are a lord we are talking about you today 21st August, 2004, Deaf Dave, Frankie and I, we love you Mark, God bless.
I still look for you sometimes, forgetting you are gone, I know I'm not the only one.