Alberto Nisman didn't know the danger he would enter
when he looked into the bombing of a Jewish center
He said president Christina was hiding the truth
he had the goods, would soon show the proof.
He was supposed to appear in Congress, but hours before
Somehow hitmen got by his door
He knew too much, so bad guys moved fast
If you let on what you know, next moment might be last.
Veronica Guerin reported on the Dublin crime scene
They had to kill her before the big clean.
She stopped at a traffic light, two bikers drew nigh
She knew she'd be shot, she knew she would die
She asked them not to shoot her in the face
So they shot her in some other place.
Jack knew secrets, but the mob didn't want death yet
So they punished him whenever he seemed a threat
He walked among you, but you could not see
The overarching underworld reality.
So beware the secrets that you've found,
Even heroes may not leave the battleground.
For truth’s a boomerang—when it comes back around,
Your message may die with you, six feet underground.
scraping of the soil
invasion of millipedes
unearthed by rakers ~
those roly poly critters
in every nook and cranny
9/6/2021
A Buggy Tanka
M.L. Kiser
Revenge of the Leaves
They all came together in one place
Each with each and all with all
They said their piece
From early Spring to almost Fall
They listened intent to understand
What was to become of the rest of Man
After assimilation's of the great debate
A conclusion was decided on their fate
After man had raked, pillaged & burned their kin
Destroying memories of those within
The great leaves of trees would finally take revenge
'Let US no longer give air for them to breathe
No longer the beauty of our Majesty
Never again provide shade from the Sun
Let them burn, as our Fathers had been done
From that day forward till the end
Trees and leaves held their breath
Until all the ‘Rakers had died
The most boring of deaths
... and for any that may come long after
That sound you hear of breeze in the trees
Is the leaves in their laughter.
Ganksta fools
coming at you incorrect
like thugs
Political dull tools:
Criminal IQ fakers
showing total disrespect —
Tick-tock bugs
Clock benders of societal rules,
indecent lawmakers
Cut the bogus tax check ...
Pinocchio ears on tapped phones,
sporting a swag orange rug
Bandito style old school,
Ruble.con hustle takers
pad the pimped pockets that Soviet forget
Leave no meat on the T-note bones,
give the pub a lick swindle hug
Sucker slurp the sugar cube rube voting ponies
Game the parlay bettors pool:
Earthworms vs the Dirt Rakers
House tissue money on a porcelain toilet
Rigged royal flush won’t payout right for any wrongs ...
So spit spin a Russian caliber propaganda slug
in two revolving roulette chambers of covetous harmony
Fifty cents to a thug dollar,
fifty-fifty you gon give
a doggy groan something’s wrong holla
Muzzle the lips wearing a Moscow collar
Let the enticed Oz eyes speak
in emerald envy locked jaw harmony
Silence! Colonizers of low pedigree
MOON RAKERS
The old tale goes in Wiltshire when
They wisely played the parts of fools
In deception of the Revenue men
Employed dumb faces and farming tools
The Brandy kegs you see were hid
In village pond sunk out of sight
While making retrieval from its mid
The Constables arrived in the night
These Wiltshire lads donned idiot leer
And played the role of dunce or loon
Then pointing at lake mirror clear
Averred ‘Were raking for the moon!’
An alternate allegory I perceive
The Moon and stars in water bright
May be the dreams we strive to achieve
Deceiving ourselves? or clearing sight
While others might see us as dreamers and fools
Could we maybe in spirit commune
Take up our metaphysical tools
Delve phantasy deep; rake for the moon
Bungling Bankers and Brutal Bakers
There are those who were muck rakers,
As well as liars, losers and breath takers;
Improperly invested,
And poorly digested;
Been bungling bankers and brutal bakers.
Jim Horn
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