The world
is crumbling
and that TV in the window
looks dam good
irresponsible
possibly
but we could be dead
in an hour
or so it feels.

Would you get
looter mentality
if your world
started to crumble
perhaps
perhaps not
it's only hypothetical
for now.

Dazzled by
the glamour of robber barons,
   a **** fetishist
      shills for feudal revival
         ambidextrously flogging
      bleach-white equestrian bones
   eventually dying
a looter's death.

Refrain from playing the looter
Or the parasite who takes
But always remain a builder
And known as one who makes

Yes build your life, proud and true
This is the Bitcoin way
Though looters claim we owe them
As Ayn Rand used to say

The looters count on Atlas…
That he’ll hold the world in place
But one day he will simply shrug
And the world will fall through space

Stand a maker, not a looter
Though the looters grow in size
Yes, swear by your love of life
That looting you’ll despise

Resist the urge for easy life
Prove strong as a woman or man
For either you’re a looter
Or you build everything you can

Our hands work and our minds conceive
And freely with others we trade
And let’s convert some looters
And end the looting charade

Nobody should believe you
You’re a world class liar.
You’re going to burn your ****
‘Cause your pants are on fire!
You’ve always been a liar
Even back in your youth.
The only thing you fear is
Having to tell the truth.

If you shake hands with him
Count your fingers right quick
Be sure you still have them all.
Never trust his sneaky tricks.
He can stand right in front of you
And baldfacedly he can lie
While smiling like and angel
And looking you in the eye.

Olly, olly, oxen hook
This guy is a nasty crook.
Keep track of all he took
Then sentence him, by the book.
Heckley, Jekylly, criminal
He prefers to be subliminal.
But mostly he’s a bad motor scooter
A cutpurse and a poorhouse looter.

He would rob widows and orphans
And claim he was aiding charity
As if he is the only person who
Sees the world with clarity.
He calls it redistribution work
Of the world’s hard-earned wealth.
But he is fooling nobody, really,
Or he wouldn’t need to use stealth.

And when he runs for office, he
Can refine his art of playing *****
By hiding behind closed doors
And stealing from us covertly.
He will join the political machine
That is already firmly in place
And work in his mirror every day
To hone that public smiling face.

Olly, olly, oxen hook
This guy is a nasty crook.
Keep track of all he took
Then sentence him, by the book.
Heckley, Jekylly, criminal
He prefers to be subliminal.
But mostly he’s a bad motor scooter
A cutpurse and a poorhouse looter.

My summer sweats bloom from a grass rag,
Scratch another hardly blasting out a calibrate,
Can I break, strap out hacker doozy bluemoors,
Caught from an out sound, an out frowned
Blackening the coffin sweet cough lubricate,
Shackle high tops on pipe dream loft shakers,
Clover feelers, four hitter on lucky seven collar,
Depth sin protector, **** I ain't wrath looter,
Nor do poppa sizes on some puke lips locker,
Key switch for gates hellish donor, back loner,
Course you see, I seek seep suckled *****,
Not some subtle soul (gap in skirt) poker,
Forever reaching lines, bust knuckle lifters,
Cracked rage like Nile is flooding wealths curlers,
Jewel duplicate for ruby cuts on roofless lust,
Symbolise another and I'll grabble force an honour,
Sober up soppy crotch rummage coper,
Scan cell prison ament Scholar's "repent!"
Mace battle X axel swop blunt round passel,
Cost more on pepper rubber rock relation,
Patient prep operation, cramp dilation,
Dial engage **** sudden blocked injection.
Cast nocturnals ominous above monuments,
Men fall like weak's race for joy's division,
Attend pro's vision, pure as skies probations,
Pack pampers protection tracks premonition,
Flat lines before lap times, clenching half rhymes,
Hop hotter than blues croft in dusks knots,

For the past thirty years or so
I’ve heard Republican broad hints
That never quite come to pass.
They must think I am dense;
That I sit and watch my TV
And get all stoked to hear them
Promise they will set things right
But reality never comes near them.

They talk about our poverty gap
And how they will narrow it down
And how they will lower interest
And they will quit fooling around.
They go on about their opponents,
Even when they have good records,
And then the election comes and
The people fail to get it together.

So every eight years they vote,
These fools I must call my peers
And throw the good guy out.
Every freaking eight years.
An even once after just four
They told the good guy goodbye
Then put in a world class crook.
Can anyone really say why?

I’ve watched my fellow man
Go bonkers like this repeatedly
And vote in some twisted clown
That ******* us up completely.
Nixon looked like the creep he was;
A greasy, rude and stupid man.
Then Reagan was a liar and a looter
I never was that fool’s loyal fan.

In between we’d get someone
In the job who wanted things fixed.
He would work hard as he could
And pray things wouldn’t be nixed.
But the current bubble-headed villain
Said he’d take the country back;
All his predecessor was guilty of
Was of being unremittingly black.

So, what’s with these people here
Who can’t tell a good thing from bad?
Why can’t they recognize success
And good times we have had?
All indexes were up, things were fine
Things were not a bit bad that fall.
So why did the half bright-Americans
Choose a guy with no experience at all?

Surely they don’t think any guy
Who doesn’t give a **** about them
Would care about more than rich buddies.
Of course not! That would be just dim.
Yet they did it and proved that fools,
When they’re left to play with the adults,
Can ruin things when they’re going well.
Now we must live with the results.

A gathering of coconuts,
Deliberating over tomato sauce,
How to make delicate cuts,
And not spoil the source.

a looter
always escape from
the eye of the God
Coz
the stolen goods
nothing but
a change of place on Earth
we should aware that
in the eye of law only,
be awarded as crime...

Repel a *****
Rats Amid Spam Emit Gas
Reward a Looter
Revel Guns and War Tide

Edit Raw DNA, Snug Lever
Retool a Drawer
Sag Time, Maps Dim a Star
Repel a *****

A systemic epidemic amid the pandemic
Shots off at capitol hill and alls a panic
Forensics takes money from the shooter
Proclaims the victim to be a looter

Throw lives away like trash on the block
Take poor lives at their sides a Glock
Stocks soar, Deaths soar, **** just our luck
**** on tour at mast is the patriots ****

Peace an option until they grabbed their piece
Take the lease call your tab a life will cease
Six six six its the nature of the beast
Money, greed, and avarice

All they want is every slice of prosperity
They flaunt a salary a workless propriety
Makers, producers, and workers in poverty
Still, they will rule with iron sovereignty  

This goes on for four more I'm going on a tour
Camp on a grassy knoll taking shots of Cuervo
Not enough to throw off my aim though
My contribution is to the body flow

That's just how war goes, no justice no peace
Just taking justice away with a piece
When I feel a debt is to me I pull the lease
And I feel what is owed to me is some peace

That'll never happen till all my friends can eat
I may die in a miserable cell in complete defeat
At least my skin won't be fleece won't be meat
For wolves to eat I'll be a man crushed underfeet

Funny we still fight confederate beliefs
More like fight the degenerate beliefs
Of the weak and the meek thieves
Stealing rights and lives for conceit

Liberty or death is the creed of our founders
Yet when liberty is stolen everyone just flounders
Death is the only retort to fascist panderers
Tired of all this fake comfort as a ponderer

The answer soon to be immutable one last stopper
That can permute this course as the only offer
An election of a conqueror or a molester
Choice between a beast and death or a monster

One mimics ein fuhrer  the other will fester
So whats best here civil war or uncle Chester
Months until the toll bell calls on her electors
To choose hell or tepid **** to quell the defectors

But for the greed of men,
Would our spirits have floundered?
Daily robbed by the looter's pen,
May we have been plundered?