Thieves plotted the street-weaver's doom;
and thus he just rented a room.
So "strange"- the pipes burst
and thieves were immersed...
weaver laughed and left with his loom.
I hereby attempt to satisfy poplar demand
as best I possibly can…
Seeking more creative ways to stop porch thieves?
Here are some more in which to believe
Hang those dirty diapers on a clothesline
right above the package ~ this works just fine
For extra effect, make sure the diapers have been sitting in a pile
for quite a long while…
Here’s one that has those wannabee thieves running away
Post a ‘Beware of Skunk’ sign not far away
And this concludes my tips this time
for which I ask nothing, not one thin dime
Put a clothesline over my front steps
hung my sweaty athletic wear over there
Amazon delivered a package
placed it strategically, under that line
Porch thieves came and took just one sniff
~ on this one they all whiffed
little masked bandits
scurry over backyard gate
to open trash can
Spent from the pockets of thieves
From the hope of none of these
We will fend of the relevance
With an requiem of lost evidence
And hope the willing blind will not realise what they can seize
We swayed back and forth as we rode town to town
where the gullible would soon bring their money around
my daddy sold elixirs that would make them feel good
making as much money as a poor boy-grown-up-man could
my mother sold knick knacks she hand sewed in the back
my sister and I were ringers in the audience, causing some flack
I used it and my blemishes were gone in a week I would yell
it cured my cancer and other things, hollered my sister Chel
making the money we needed to get to the next town for our next show
Those were days of contentment, more than I would yet know
Greedy is the Light
Exposing thieves
as She herself
steals My darkness away
they travel from house to house
two car links behind the Amazon driver
picking up each package seconds after he drops it off
they are often captured on video
sometimes news people play this and ask for an identity
are their relatives laughing as they open their presents?
What is stolen
never endures.
Empires built on plunder
rot quietly.
America.
And its allies.
You crossed oceans
to empty the poor.
You called it trade.
You called it order.
Paper became power.
Ink became chains.
A currency without conscience
sold as destiny.
You ruled by bullying.
By fear dressed as leadership.
And wondered why
the world grew tired.
Nothing is too vast
to fall.
Nothing too small
to rise.
You proved one truth:
the world breathes easier
without thieves at the throne.
The universe keeps accounts.
It tolerates patience,
not cruelty.
And when leaders gamble with greed,
the innocent pay first.
But this is no longer
the seventeenth century.
The Global South
is awake.
They studied your methods.
They memorized your games.
What was taken
will return—
not in revenge,
but in reckoning.
Shape shifters come in all shape and form.
Politicians are naturals of course
Smiling and promising one thing
Then delivering quite another.
Then there are con artists and scammers
Taking advantage of the naive
And innocent at least if only once.
Then there’s those like my neighbor
Who’s nothing more than a welfare rancher
Taking funds from a do-gooder land trust NGO
Ostensively to keep his lands whole.
Appearing on the outside a good old boy
But really just another scamming thief
Feeling entitled to whatever he can take
Such as a small sliver of my land
For some reason fenced inaccurately long ago.
In this particular case the law isn’t on his side
But that doesn’t matter
In his desire to be right,
Uphold the bizarre tradition of adverse possession
And bully his way to some who knows what end
To who knows whose advantage.
The thing about shape shifters is just that,
They shift and change
So can only be trusted to be untrustworthy.
It’s good to know though
Caveat emptor
They can be anywhere, and dangerous
Especially when least expected.
(11/14/25)
We live in savage times so tough
With open socialists elected
On promises of more free stuff
As all around fools are subjected
Everyone in huddled masses
With faces blank in dark veiled threat
Sitting on their passive asses
Hands open like an expectant pet
Everyone knows it’s expected
How the value of these hollow suits
Grows with every dime collected
With our necks beneath their dirty boots
Oh noble lords we submit now
To the brazen theft that you impose
And even as we smile and bow
Start our rebellion under your nose
When the day comes for the takers
To account at last for all you stole
Be prepared to meet your makers
And serve us for life without parole.
(11/14/25)
A rising tide lifts all boats yet not all enjoy the lift.
Some boats are in fact useless, abandoned
On the shore, and the tide only bringing more woe
Showing just how broken and hollow
They have become.
And in a world of such abundance
The shores clutter with such abandon
Lining streets and alleys, parks and plazas
Waiting for something vague and ill-defined
Hands out in passive supplication.
Last week the masses protested No Kings
And this they beg their masters
For the food they haven’t bothered to earn
Or save, unaware they are the victims
Of nothing but their own karmas.
Beggars rely upon the generosity of strangers
Or the redistribution of wealth
By the powers that be
Who steal for them
To keep the peace.
A master may beg as well, but being wise
With gratitude and equanimity
Knows it’s all good, but only for a moment.
While the fool views it all with a grasping mind
Thinking it will last forever.
Beggars, thieves and fools mix and mingle
In the marketplace, sometimes all in one,
But more often in different forms and roles.
Sharp and shiny suits or soiled and tattered rags
Are no proof of who is who.
(10/29/25)
Do not let death be a hiding place for thieves,
Their mansions glimmer,their hands still foul of gold-
We want the money back, the people grieve.
They steal from the hungry,spin deceitful weaves,
Made poverty a product easily sold-
Do not let death be a hiding place for thieves.
Each tender lost,another dream bereaves,
A nation's trust auctioned,betrayed,resold-
We want the money back,the people grieve
The tombstone shines but cannot reprieve,
The curses of the poor,the stories untold-
Do not let death be a hiding place for thieves.
Let justice dig through soil and broken eaves,
Expose the empires' corruption controlled-
We want the money back,the people grieve
No grave absolves,no legacy deceives-
Return what you plundered,return what you stole!
Do not let death be a hiding place for thieves-
We want the money back,the people grieve
Shadow thieves
Pondering on the darkened times
Peeling the strips of the phase
Tugging on the masks
of yesterday's face
as impunity crows
unravelling the thickened years
To to dummy that has been stealing my work
I have my original work saved on an usb
Stop rewriting and changing titles on my work
They always blame things on hackers, but this is an inside jobs
the truth is the truth,
Its time for this old patriarchial system to die
these covens will be done away with!
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