Best Private Property Poems
I turned on the news and saw
people rioting in the streets,
burning the American flag,
destroying private property,
smashing windshields,
attacking innocent people,
screaming and ranting,
displaying so much hate
towards those who don’t share
the same thoughts and
ideas they do
and I was disgusted,
wondering why the news
had to always show things
that were happening
in the Middle East
until I realized
it was California
what the hell is wrong with people?
I pledge allegiance to each self-loving, self-made individual
Whose sole need of men is force-free profitable trade,
Who judges aims and acts with his own thinking mind
And stands proud to receive judgment, sure and unafraid.
I pledge allegiance to the state of individual rights,
The law-bound republic of only private property---
Private flesh and thoughts and lands and tools and lives,
Where each man holds the wheel of self-responsibility.
I pledge allegiance to the rationally selfish self,
And to the happiness on earth that each may find;
And I pledge totally against the death-blow evils of altruism---
Communism, socialism, fascism, religion and environmentalism.
I pledge allegiance to life---human life above all other--
Actual life above potential---fact above wishing.
I pledge allegiance to me; yes, to me I pledge allegiance;
With myself and by myself and to myself, I pledge allegiance.
Dead now, Jackie Walsh?
Smolderingly blonde like a strawberry,
protesting your stolen innocence; one snuffed candle.
So much promise you had, the favored cousin,
my own father loved you best.
All gone in an instant, one busy street, and one turn of the spoke
or hand at the wheel.
You could have been a draft pick or a scholar or a hired gun.
Go now to your brother Barry and father J.P., to cousin Jimmy Scanlon;
they sit waiting for you in easy chairs, sipping poteen.
Ghosts of Rawlings Avenue, let Aunt Madeline rest in peace.
I did not name my own son after you or your father consciously.
We drank the last can of Uncle Tommy’s Coors, all the way from Colorado.
It’s safe to share that secret now after 34 years.
Trading baseball cards by flashlight, remember, Jackie Walsh?
Staying up all night, waiting our parents and uncles out.
Their pot of Irish stew stirring and simmering,
their loud whispers sharp but glimmering.
Leaving them to point the finger at one another for all these years.
Passing the collection plate at Italian mass,
you knew the priest; we kept the silver dollars.
I have not really seen you since then (not even in my dreams),
except for a crazy subway ride
and a bank robbery, inside job, of course.
We all have a little larceny in our souls;
all to the sizzle and whiff of crackling eggs and Irish bacon.
I would ask where did you go, but I know it was that you stayed,
that little boy waiting for big brother's return.
Feeling jealousy and admiration for you at the same time,
then later, after, feeling lament for you and eventually contempt.
We could not fathom your loss because it was your own private property.
Stung to the soul you sorrowed and raged.
With tears on the keystrokes I offer this dirge too little, too late
for you now, to purge my own soul.
I missed you all these years, Jackie Walsh.
Sleep well now for this dream is over.
The new millenia has delivered a genesis
of global corporate government,
a religion of salvation through submission to the State,
politicians as priest, as pest,
collection plates around every corner,
confession rooms in community centers, communion with false currency,
tax code as Bible, Commander in Chief as Christ,
the man or woman arousing their neighbor's suspicion that private property
is being stealthily seized,
that sovereignty is not just for nations but for individuals,
vigilantes of enlightenment engaged in martyrdom to be their own,
not strawman accounts,
contending to keep their wages, defending "Due Process" with dignity,
these frontiersmen of freedom pouncing on the pall
of political sorcery,
being met with scorn & scoff
not by officers and officials
but from the bellows of fellows -
J.A.B.
You made Death grumble, boy
He not pleased that a little squirt like you got away
He had you choking on your mama's apron strings,
with that foolhardy, playful dare you made
Said you was gonna cross Bim Argut's field,
and you wasn't scared of his menacing sign
Hope that pretty young thing you were trying to impress,
comes to your funeral in her best Sunday dress
"No Trespassing" is what the rusted, buck shot at, sign said
"Private Property," so that means you better stay off
You can leave walking,
or you can leave being carried away on your back dead
Yeah, Death thought he had you, little bugger
Had you in Bim's gunsight, but he didn't squeeze the trigger right
Even after you turned tail and ran,
Bim was still trying to hit you with his bad arthritic right hand
Just missed you,
Grim Reaper thought he had you
Dead to rights, you was almost his
At that distance how did he miss ...
with a 20-gauge shotgun, even a blind man
could've gave you a silver pellet kiss
Maybe your big friend from on high helped you,
if he did, I don't know why
You ain't nothing but a troublemaker,
a short life is written in the stars
You won't live long enough
to raise glasses in honky-tonk bars
Now gon' run back to your papa
in your blue jeans with the brown backside
Yeah, run back to your mama
in your white sneakers with the yellow streak,
like you done cried
Death's gonna get you one day,
everybody knows that Death don't play
Yeah, Death's gonna get you someday,
so you better start learning how to pray
You Are My Formidable FireWall
My Memory Image Chip, Thru Flash Floods
You Search Thru and Rescue my Heart-Site…
With A Barricade that Blocks Viruses – like Blood
You Are My Screen-Saver and Life-Log-On-Line
Top-Tech-Support; My Very Own Version of Refreshed Breath
… if they could Spam or Shutdown You, from my System…
… there’d be Nothing, but Frozen, Empty-Space Left
You Halt Hard-Core-Drive – Hacking Rain
You Turn Back Spy Infiltrating, Triple Whip Wild Winds
… more than All Other Hosts/Sponsors Here
… You’re My Best Net – Blog… Faithful, Code-Friend
My Address: is Your Laptop - Yeah, I’m Your fEMAIL…
Sent or Waiting @will for you.come
To Download hope, trust, most learned Tools
And File Past Pop-up - Back-Door-Programs Done
You Are My Formidable FireWall
My Free-Path and Private-Property MainFrame
My Fault-Delete, My Final Password and Future Link…
And My Full-Force, Public Domain-Flame://______!
You Are My Formidable FireWall – Forever
Finest CPU; Fearless-Forward–Pentium-Pointer to Light
GOD!… I Love This Guard-Upgrade, speaking MicroSoft Words
… while pressing Safe=Surf-Kisses and Key-Strokes at Midnight
My FireWall…
My Far-Reaching…
UnFailing…
UnFlinching…
Formidable…
Fantastic…
… FIREWALL
'Knock, knock' on the door,
But, I won't let you in.
No, no.
The chamber of my heart is closed.
But 'knock, knock' you say.
Oh no!
I am stronger in this position than any other.
A huge 'liquidation' sign hung,
For months and months,
At my window pane.
I gave away everything I had to give,
To you,
To family,
To friends.
Nothing is left here,
Nothing for you,
Nothing for me.
There is no you and me.
My heart is closed.
I sacrificed,
I worked,
I gambled,
I lost.
I am fine.
'Knock, knock' you say.
But my door is closed to you,
Always now.
I won't let you in again.
No. no.
Go away, now.
I have nothing left to give.
The chamber of my heart was looted long ago.
Gutted.
Raised to the ground.
Left empty.
Dilapidated.
Condemned.
Like a broken down warehouse,
In some sort of insurance scam that went wrong.
Was that it?
Was this all some crazy scheme?
To gather insurance on care?
On love?
To put me in line?
To own everything I have?
Everything I am?
To control me?
Insuring against me,
Then ripping me apart,
Stone by stone,
Day by day.
No, no.
You can't come in again.
Not you.
Not ever.
Go away.
This fraud went wrong.
I build back up,
Brick by fragile brick.
I put up a wall,
With a sign,
'Private property',
Keep out!
Yet, 'knock, knock',
So, now I say,
'Trespassers will be prosecuted'.
Oh yes.
Come near me again,
I will tear you apart.
I have emotional dynamite,
Golden.
So much you don't know.
Oh yes.
Come near me again,
I will blow your life apart,
Just as you did mine.
'Knock, knock'?
Really?
'Knock, knock'?
Honestly?
You think you have a right to ask?
For anything?
Ever again?
Oh no!
Not now.
Not never.
Test my walls,
If you like.
They are steady.
Knock on the door,
If you like.
I'm not listening.
My chamber's closed,
My heart is not open for business,
Everything went in the recession.
I don't have a thing to my name,
Emotionally.
Except ambition.
And drive.
And a whole host of strength.
You can lay siege,
I won't notice.
You can knock,
I won't answer.
No, no,
Not ever again.
You are not welcome.
Oh no!
No more.
Please go.
Spare yourself the trouble,
Of the incessant knocking...
Bamboozlement, a joy to thy heart
And thou gloat at their misfortunes
Maliciously misleading them with tricks
Bury this private property, a plea
Otherwise, you'll earn thy pay in full
One's joy comes from good wishes
Zap thy zest for schadenfreude
Let go of those wanton moral filths
Embrace the joy from good wishes
Maintain my moral message and
Enjoy big in a little planet
Never should thou forget
The day of thy sepulchre sleep
March 17, 2016
Mary E.W. Stephenson
My Reconstructed House
In my house of reconstruction, it is very well lit under the glory of GOD.
There is a 'No Trespass' sign on my lawn, and a 'Private Property' sign is
hanging from my front door.
Yet I peek outside of my windows and see the misery that tramples the lives of others.
I am a compassionate soul. Yet I know that I must be careful as to whom I let in my house.
In my old house I was ingenuous and allow negativity, jealousy, treachery, and deceit cross my door sill, and it tore down the walls of my house, leaving me with an empty shell of a house.
My heart was splintered and I became plagued with despair.
Now there is a loving spirit that flows freely from chambers to chambers.
The tender yet feverish love of my man keeps my house warm and cozy.
I have given GOD the key to my house, and I feel free to be successful in growth and accomplishment.
People admire my new house and they want to know what they need to do to get such a well-constructed house, and I tell them to open the door to their inadequate house and let GOD in.
We thought it would last forever,
not a kink in the endless chain of supplies;
Now more than the store shelves
are coming up continuously empty;
Still the menu is good to change,
maybe get out grandma’s old recipe;
No amount of money in the world
can buy you food that doesn’t exist;
We thought it was just gonna go away,
the trucks would always deliver more eggs;
Then omelettes became a luxury item,
‘Snickers’ were all we could afford or find;
Starvation ended with ‘We are the World.’
Western civilization? That’s impossible;
North America is flooded with resources;
Regrow endless crops on soil rich land;
No amount of money in the world
can buy you food that doesn’t exist;
Bottom of the barrel no trash to steal;
Private property gardens, no trespassing;
Outlaws armed with skills and dirty hands,
Off grid not for sale, can’t steal from them;
The wealthy can get whatever they need,
or so the one percent always thought;
No amount of money in the world
can buy you food that doesn’t exist.
The water looks so inviting,
walking on private property;
Hanging out by the boats at night,
going where we have never been;
‘Keep Out!’ sign exhilarating!
We could hop in but have to flee;
Mellow out under the moonlight,
feeling the waves lap at our skin;
Clothing disappears not in sight;
Skinny dipping is forbidden.
Should girl be killed before she born,
Cos once she is born she gets nothing but thorns.
Men treat them like a servant,
and forget that you got married to her and not got her on rent.
Society judge them by their clothes,
and think girl wants to expose.
Parents doesn't allow their daughters to go out,
and are very happy with the sons and feel proud.
If a girl comes late to her house,
people make different opinions and then spread and arouse.
Now i will change the mindset.
She is your daughter, sister or wife,
and she has all her rights.
No one will judge them on their dress,
or else they will be in a big mess.
She is not your private property,
Now all you brats should be guilty.
They will be the change makers,
And then this world become peaceful and better.
Every day another woman gets killed by their mate, sliced, chopped and hacked
What is going on with these men,
When did a woman’s vagina become your private property?
You can cheat but she can't
You can move on but she can't
What the hell is that
According to you ...you own her life just because you shared a night
Big Man ...young boy ...stop killing our women, she has the right to move on
You can sleep with 10 other women but as soon as you think it's over you take a knife and slit her throat…seriously…what is good for the goose is for good gander …she can love another
You call that love…cheating with 10 others …she’s not your private property
You don't have the right to her life just because you shared a child ...when it’s over, it’s just over ...you don't have the right to her life
Big man ...young boy ...stop killing our women, she has the right to move on
Love trumps hate,
and if rioting in the streets destroying private property,
filthy and disgusting foul language shouted and painted on signs
that small children can easily hear and read,
combined with threats of blowing up a government building
regardless of how many innocent people are inside
doesn’t prove it,
then nothing does.
Don’t you just LOVE it?
What’s that old saying about the pot calling the kettle…….
Bottles
Pass me another bottle to pour down my sorrow,
My love I wrote you poem of me being drunk in morning tomorrow,
I love the poison poisoning my mind to come up with slick rhymes,
So pass a blunt I'll roll one tonight,
Getting fading as I puff puff pass here the lighter might,
Lose myself in the time I have,
Not at a club more like backyard with a bonfire,
As my lungs fill in exhale as we get higher,
Please let the Remy Scotch Bacardi kick in,
You'll see how inspire I be,
For my words curse you out at sea,
A sea of grief of a thief stealing my heart would be,
A hole in the chest am I a mess?
Dealing with stress so blast the music to the police come arrive,
Wait they cant private property as you probably will see,
A Jello shot is the best.
My love I'll have a swimming pools of liquor like Kendrick stated,
As you hated the way I dive in,
Born sinner you brought to your family dinner,
As I see you in a faded vision I can barely be.
So pass me an other bottle to the point I have bottles on bottles to where the European models,
I drink my sorrow,
Wait.... I forgot what I was saying---
Until the arrow that hit my heart burn,
To the ashes that our bridge is apparently appear apart,
You try to find me well turn in the darkest forests of Alice in wonderland,
Where I'll be where the wild things are,
As you stare at my life in a spiral,
LSD for I forgot about theses so pass me vodka,
Ten shot to you ten shots to me.
Written: 10/14/15