"thieves" poems
We are the people that you created.
A generation going nowhere.
We are the kids that you hate.
Brought up by fear and paranoia.
The technology era,
distinguished by guns and violence.
Raised and spoiled;
aggression and hate the new emotions.
Alienated from each other.
Passion and empathy completely diminished.
A dystopian world,
ruled by liars and thieves.
Pain is coupled with pleasure.
Angst and depression consuming the minds.
Break away from the hate.
Become a better generation.
We are not the nowhere kids.
Nov 26, 2012
Nov 26, 2012 at 4:32 AM UTC
Inside these dimensions of my prison,
paralyzed, immobilized,
shattered in fragments of fear,
I utter stifled screams
from my body heap,
piled on the hardwood floor
c
r
u
m
b
l
i
n
g
trapped, desolate and
wretched in mind,
what is left of me after invasion and ravage?
Chase away this these vultures and thieves,
so to shut out this duality
blinding me,
a rabbit caught in headlights
up
me
pick
Apr 15, 2014
Apr 15, 2014 at 5:08 PM UTC
Manila,
Manila,
Your bustling streets vibrate with the rumbling of the jeepneys
and the hollers of the drivers as they say,
“Pasahero diyan, kasya pa, kasya pa!”; (Any passenger there, some seats are still free!)
Your nights twinkle with the Christmas lights
that surround every tree around the Meralco building
when September begins;
Your endless traffic jams keep McDonald’s and KFC alive
twenty-four by seven
where traffic enforcers dodge cars
and vans
trucks and tricycles
and jeepneys and bicycles
while dancing to the rhythm beating in their own ears
with a smile and a salute to all the drivers
from dawn to dusk;
The noise awakens the outskirts of your city
filled with people who never fails to smile
even when the storm pirouettes like a tempestuous ballerina,
where children watch the roads
transform into this ocean of black water
and small wooden boats become the means of transportation;
paddling in between houses
as the adults try to go to work;
where chickens waddling upon roofs
and cats chasing rats
become the best forms of entertainment
but Manila,
your lingering smell of cancer
comes with the dark blue starless sky
telling people to grip their bags until it merges with their bodies.
Manila, say good night
while they hold it tight
protecting it from the dark humid air
where thieves come out to
thumb down unscrutinised objects
from shallow pockets
by the flickering lamps
across the blazing red and emerald green lights
you see less
and less
and less
faces
as the Sun sinks and says good bye.
Stop
and try to tranquilise yourself.
Your city is now lead
by a blood-thirsty leader.
Apologies from gunshots overpower the cries of help from your people.
Manila,
ignore them
and sleep well.
Let the truth decay
while lives burn and vanish.
Prayers cannot save your mutinous ignominy.
Halcyon days are over
but
Manila,
you are still a beautiful city.
Your resilient people
overflows with hospitable hearts.
Their faces plastered with big smiles
as they welcome us for you
and say, “Mabuhay!” (Long live!)
proud and mighty.
Offering their minds on banana leaf plates to everyone who visits,
Giving away their hearts in small loot bags to everyone who leaves,
The Pearl of the Orient Seas
was my hood.
Manila,
despite your lack of snow
and intense weather swings,
You are
and will always be
my home.
Apr 7, 2017
Apr 7, 2017 at 4:54 PM UTC
Street lamps play
As they have before
Dim walkway
Leading to a door
Careful steps
Strewn leaves
Breathe between gaps
Skulking like thieves
Rustling trees
Otherwise nothing
Mind at ease
Heart rapidly beating
Usually stops here
Usually I'd stir
But still in slumber
I drew closer
Eyes on door
Familiar scene
Stood here before
This dream I've been
Up the patio
Door was ajar
Accompanied by my shadow
Stretched far
Tunnel vision
Dripping eave
Door handle beckons
Hand raised to receive
Usually stops here
Usually I'd rouse
Allowed to enter
This time... This house
Handle I seize
Door seemed light
It did not freeze
Hinges did not fight
Revealed the insides
Scanned surroundings
Unlit lights
Stairs climbing
Footsteps I heard
Coming my way
Sounds absurd
But yet I stay
Usually stops here
Usually dream is done
But still was clear
It only had begun
Darkened figure
Descending on bare feet
Beauty light as feather
Ever did I meet
She did not see me
Planted at the doorway
Impossible it may be
Nothing did she say
Walked right by
My eyes followed
Seconds fly
In eternity they burrowed
Usually stops here
Usually I'd wake
Yet still I'm here
Chance I'd take
Stood at the fridge
Back towards me
Under siege
My mind set a flurry
Fridge was opened
Light casted her silhouette
Her back darkened
Curiosity grew fat
Illuminating beams
Accentuated her hair
Like golden streams
Flowing with flair
Usually stops here
Usually I'd startle
Connection did not sever
Continue I was able
Spellbound I gawked
Rooted like a tree
Wide-eyed I stalked
This siren before me
She drank
Not knowing I was there
Stiff as a plank
I was locked in a stare
Finally broke free
Shifted my weight
She turned to me
And then said...
Then it ceased
Then I awaken
Surprisingly pleased
Slice of heaven
Who was she?
Silhouetted face
Perpetually...
Mysterious grace
Foreign albeit familiar
Strange but true
Now rings clear...
It is you...
Aug 26, 2014
Aug 26, 2014 at 10:33 PM UTC
Life and non-Life are part of a system-- a "system-like" system, but one nonetheless.
Where Entropy's that which is hidden from us--
and Information without meaning is total chaos.
But hold.
Poets, Bards & Thieves.
Of shame, of game, of blame, they speak
of secrets on the leaves.
In more or less a drunken mess, their simmered shimmered consciousness
could barely rarely quite express what causes them to grieve.
After some hesitation and liquid persuasion, the only collusion this final conclusion:
*Pain is entropic; Extra-sensory stimulation
received as distortion via sensory limitations--
Confusing the mind refusing the signs, forcing us to shutter the blinds.
But what is behind? Unveil pain's curtain and what do we find?
Contextualisation, possible causation-- Mind-Body integration without hesitation--
palpable, abstract Information dissemination!*
Jan 12, 2014
Jan 12, 2014 at 12:05 PM UTC
We were two little children
with the sun on our skin,
playing naked in the water,
innocent of sin.
Acting out our stories,
our games were all in fun,
playing naked in the water
by the seashore in the sun.
We played at being heroes,
villains, crooks and thieves,
Peter Pan and Tinkerbell,
pirates on the seas!
Suddenly I'm longing
to find you once again,
to see if you remember.
Do you remember when?
Our eyes danced together,
how imaginations flew!
I've never been so happy
as when I played with you.
We were two little children
with the sun on our skin,
playing naked in the water,
innocent of sin.
Jan 15, 2011
Jan 15, 2011 at 8:12 AM UTC
We are the people that you created.
A generation going nowhere.
We are the kids that you hated
Brought up by fear sinking lower
The technology era,
distinguished by guns and violence.
Raised and spoiled
telling us silence
Alienated from each other.
Passion and empathy completely diminished.
A dystopian world,or another
word unfinished
ruled by liars and thieves.
the government is like a
tree with falling leaves
Break away from the hate.
Become a better generation.
Before it’s to late
Feb 26, 2015
Feb 26, 2015 at 7:00 PM UTC
My name spells love in every language
you say you’ve learnt; the pulsating
streets of your veins are alight with life tonight.
We walk them with empty-pockets and
hand-in-hand; the only crimes we commit
is that we lead each other to dark places;
a castle of lies; half-said the only loving
we’ve done is in our heads.
We lose time in words and suddenly
it’s four a.m. and the coldest hands
have only ever been yours; all that throbbing
gone to waste. Rest your heart
with me, it’s never lost; four a.m.
is your hour with me
because you’ll sleep and awake
and we’ll become thieves of conversations
stealing emotions we hide in jokes
and the sundry ‘have a nice day’s.
Jul 20, 2016
Jul 20, 2016 at 9:01 AM UTC
Just about the size of my thumb
Plant so delicate and dumb
little by little I see my henna plant grow
You don't have tongue to talk
You don't have legs to walk
little by little I see my henna plant grow
The sun makes you sweat
And rain makes you wet
little by little I see my henna plant grow
Up grows your shoot
Down grows your root
little by little I see my henna plant grow
One by one leaves sprout
Making you strong and stout
little by little I see my henna plant grow
In this season of spring
Sparrows around you dance and sing
little by little I see my henna plant grow
At times they pluck your leaves
those cute little thieves
little by little I see my henna plant grow
I give a miserly glance but I don't interfere
It is entirely nature's affair.
little by little I see my henna plant grow
Your tiny existence soothes my eyes
I can hear you when others fail hear your voice
little by little I see my henna plant grow
You are Sharing another plant's flowerpot
Don't worry a new *** soon we will allot
little by little I see my henna plant grow
There you will grow bigger and bigger
Your branches will become stiffer and stiffer
little by little I see my henna plant grow
Within you they will make beautiful nest
Sparrows with enthusiasm and zest
little by little I see my henna plant grow
And when you are big and strong
Maybe then I'll be inspired to write another song.
little by little I see my henna plant grow.
little by little I see my henna plant grow.
Nov 13, 2014
Nov 13, 2014 at 9:22 PM UTC
We are the people that you created.
A generation going nowhere.
We are the kids that you hate.
Brought up by fear and paranoia.
The technology era,
distinguished by guns and violence.
Raised and spoiled;
aggression and hate the new emotions.
Alienated from each other.
Passion and empathy completely diminished.
A dystopian world,
ruled by liars and thieves.
Pain is coupled with pleasure.
Angst and depression consuming the minds.
Break away from the hate.
Become a better generation.
We are not the nowhere kids.
Oct 9, 2012
Oct 9, 2012 at 9:20 PM UTC
Wonderland, Wonderland
Why do I keep coming back?
Is it the giant mountains
Or the flowing streams?
Wonderland, Wonderland
Why do I return?
Is it the people there
Or my love for Wonderfood?
Wonderland, Wonderland
Why do they hate me?
I walk, they scream
I talk, they beat
Wonderland, Wonderland
Why can't I be perfect?
With pretty hair
And big doe eyes
Wonderland, Wonderland
When did you become a twisted place?
Was it the screams
Or the nights of crying?
Wonderland, Wonderland
I don't know you any more.
With your ferocious monsters
And sniveling thieves
Wonderland, Wonderland
This is the end for me
I'll jump the bridge
Or pop the pills
Underland, Underland
I hope you welcome me
It was a quick ride here
I hope they know what they did
Sep 7, 2014
Sep 7, 2014 at 1:47 PM UTC
There is an image
Working to free my mind
From violent dawns
It probes at the backs of my eyes
It tells me I am prostituting myself
Here in my bedroom
In incestuous union with myself
I hallucinate and fantasise about
Doctors sons, butchers boys
Teenage thieves, deserters
Drug pushers, scandalous rent boys
Vagrants, pimps, prostitutes
And silk lingerie and don't care.
I sit destitute of thought
An insonce dissonance of macabre music
Playing out melodies of an image in my mind
Apr 12, 2012
Apr 12, 2012 at 4:42 PM UTC
sins of thieves are born
of patience, care, courage, strength
virtues every one
Mar 2, 2012
Mar 2, 2012 at 2:04 AM UTC
A ball player and a thief
Will likely be pregnant by age 16.
Lives in the ghetto and is poor,
Often identified as a *****
Runs fast and does drugs,
Hangs around with gangsters and thugs.
Has a gun or a friend with one.
Speaks in slang, must be part of a gang.
Mess with her, she'll pull a Sharkeisha on you.
If you were to picture a person of any race,
That fits the description that just took place.
A baller and **** hmm... what race matches that?
Yeah you're right, that person is probably black.
Is fast, does drugs, and speaks with slang?
Lemme guess, is he also in a gang?
A young mother who is also poor?
Bet she doesn't know who the dad is, what a *****
All these negative stereotypes associated with being black.
Its disheartening, sicking and its really sad.
And whats sadder is that if you are the opposite of all of that,
You are often told that you're not really black.
Does your skin colour change for going to Harvard?
Will it change for speaking like an English scholar?
Because I play hockey and not ball, does that make me white?
So what if I'm the type of person to run away from a fight?
You don't have to be irresponsible and rude to be considered black.
It's your ethnic background that determines that.
And to some people, all we are is the complexion of our face.
Light, dark, somewhere in the middle, to some, the bad of a few defines
our whole race.
Does running away from a cop, and being black give someone grounds to shoot?
Why is it that my skin color is what is most important to you?
Is asking a question when getting arrested for no visible reason really resisting arrest?
Does struggling to break free from restraints to catch my breath, give someone a reason to grab on tighter to strangle me to death?
The actions of a few don't define the actions of a whole group.
And this assumption that all black are thugs, thieves and liars has done clear damage to,
Michael Brown, Eric Garner, Trayvon Martin and so many more.
They didn't know it, but just by being black, they put their lives at risk when they stepped out their door.
Don't you think it's gotten too far when we have to prove Black Lives Matter, or when we the saying of a movement is Hands Up, Don't Shoot.
Should people have to be reminded that blacks are real people and that our lives matter too?
We are athletes and musicians.
Lawyers and physicians.
The leader of a nation.
An anchorman of a news station.
We don't all fit into that mold that is preset for us.
You can and should expect great things of us.
Because we don't have to be a **** or a baller to be considered black.
We define what type of black person we are, we determine that.
Feb 11, 2014
Feb 11, 2014 at 2:04 PM UTC
The mad king is dead
The cruel king has passed away
Stand for the new queen
The merciful and mighty queen
" My people a new beginning awaits us
No more suffering
No more hunger
I will unchain the slaves
I will feed the poor
I will rule the kingdom with wisdom and justice
I will hang the murderers
I will imprison the thieves
I will chop the **** of every *****
The king wasted our money and fortune
Sold out our fields and women to the enemy
But we will take back what is ours
With fire and blood if needed
But now bring the food and play the music!!
Let's party!!
And **** the king"
Jan 24, 2015
Jan 24, 2015 at 8:58 AM UTC
Life’s moments and happenings are like little thieves
They don’t want any money
They still take it
Putting salt on cracked lips, stealing the warmth of a heart
Sobs resonate in lonely halls
Everything reeks
Of lifeless dust
Even darkness can’t fight them off
Or push away the pain
The cold, swift figures taste like hatred
Longtime friend with the soul of a sister
Offers a consoling embrace
It bleeds good feelings
Now they want our money
Thieves aren’t fair, nor logical
No rhyme
No reason
Life’s a poorly written song
Bad music *****
The bold melody clashes
With its vague accompaniment
We didn’t want them so we welcomed them
‘There must be some way out of here’
Said the joker to the thief
I don’t think there is any way out
The precious tokens of life should be protected
By an army of mindlessly trained children
Who fall in love with the thieves
Whose forgiving minds omit the fear
Thieves call us easy
We are forever sobbing
Cries heard only by past selves and invisible belongings
When we prove we are great
And pass impassable tests
Everything will return
We aren’t capable of such feats
Our memories sing us haunting songs
We cry out with our salty lips
And empty hearts
Robbed of any motivation
Robbed of any care
Robbed of love
Nov 12, 2012
Nov 12, 2012 at 8:41 PM UTC
That week was so hot,
every shotgun house gasped,
windows flung,
screen doors striking wooden frames,
the squawk of rusty springs.
Touching skin felt like punishment
at first,
then penance,
then prayer.
We were thin, androgynous,
switching cut-off jeans,
sharing tank tops,
slick with sweat and shaved ice.
Strays ourselves,
barefoot thieves,
pirates of the quarter.
Hibiscus syrup stained our mouths
outside the Prytania,
where The Abyss flickered
and you cried like a boy
pretending he didn’t.
Inside your walk-up,
we dipped into quiet love
like bread in stew.
The radio’s crackle carried The Ink Spots,
which I recognized but couldn’t name.
You mouthed every note like a secret
you wanted me to guess.
Faint smiling lines near your eyes
from knowing,
like you’d seen me
long before we met.
Not woman,
not man,
just two bodies
leaning toward the same heat.
I wouldn't see your fall or your winter.
When the seasons change,
I’ll be gone,
back home,
watching rain from a train window,
each drop undoing what we were.
That last night,
you placed your key by the door.
I saw it,
watched it glint,
and said nothing.
The snails were climbing.
The air was too sweet.
You slept through goodbye.
I left the key where it lay.
Jul 21, 2025
Jul 21, 2025 at 3:16 PM UTC
When the starry host shine on high
Like silver glist’ning in the sky,
How exhilaration does flow
Thro’ my veins like the chilly snow!
These soldiers that guard the darkness,
That steal from thieves their happiness,
That spy on lovers’ secrecy
And drift them more to ecstasy,
Will dim away when dawn draws nigh
Without a breath, nor moan, nor sigh.
Sep 13, 2018
Sep 13, 2018 at 3:13 AM UTC
Sweetheart silent killer manifests all inside my mind,
The moon’s a magnifying glass as it rises in the sky.
At 2 a.m. it giggles, a thick knife in its teeth,
And drops it down into my head as I lie underneath.
The glass I keep so carefully to remain ***** in the day,
Shatters and releases a burning, breathing self-assay.
A kaleidoscope catoptric, all frets out in the free,
A band of thought-filled thieves invade to steal my sleep from me.
Tossing and turning beneath the stars, I’ll wait til I burn out,
At night my brain is flooding and in daylight there’s a drought.
Lullaby myself with tears, wake up way too late,
Stuck as an insomniac, suicide’s sweet bait.
I wish I was an autumn leaf, I’d float into the sky,
And every fall I’d have the opportunity to die.
I don’t want to die, I just want to dream,
Instead of replaying my sick realities that make me want to scream.
But this will still all stay the same as my brain and blood run white,
I’ll feed myself with Satan’s sugar, the depressed primrose of the night.
Jun 19, 2013
Jun 19, 2013 at 11:05 PM UTC
Sweating on my mat, I curse!
As the light dimly flickers
Off and on it wavers
Like a torch amidst a storm.
For the ten thousandth time I wonder
What is wrong with mother?
My aggrieved home and country
Her pain is mine to bear.
She has many a tale to tell
Troubled much from deep her belly
Wonder how much she can endure
Till body and soul give in.
She was blessed by the heavens
Much to the envy of all
Yet! Alas, she mourns
And weeps in pain untold.
Time and again she follows
Sheepishly trusting her shepherds
She has had a quite a number
With tongues unknown and known
Her plight is not their vision
As she inevitably learns
Her wool and meat and milk
Are all they dare to care.
She breeds enough to share
And feed her dying lambs
But much is lost to thieves
Who lurk in shadows of shepherds.
Destined for royalty she was
But penury has robbed her glory
Awake! Oh mother Nigeria!
And reclaim your lost birthright.
© Raphael Uzor
Feb 26, 2014
Feb 26, 2014 at 5:05 AM UTC
I started on the rooftop
The empty sky above was all I had
And all I needed
It was pure
Like a blank page
Waiting for a story to be written
But at the first sight of clouds
I fled to the top floor
There were fun and simple things on the top floor
Like Pokémon games
I got red, white, and blue
The monsters seemed so banal and repetitive
But nobody else would acknowledge it
Sending me into a dragon's rage
I tried using flamethrower on Charmander
Ending in futility as I ran out of burn heals
I looked out the window in frustration
Rain was falling outside
Inside
Patriotism was buffeted by the hail
So I devolved into a lower level
Going further down this building
For ***** and giggles
I found more ****
Less giggles
On a floor with a TV displaying the news
I was eager to learn about the world
Only to learn everybody hates each other
And nobody talks
Or cares
And the smartest person in the room
Is the one I agree with the most
Unable to view the tokens in my mind
As anything less than treasure
And those who try to persuade me otherwise
Are thieves
My spite steals tranquility
Like the persistent storm outside
My solution is shelter in lower levels
My experimentation on communication
With the general population
Had rained on my playful parade
But I felt very comfortable on a floor with friends
Until they saw through my charade
Discovering my emotions in disarray
As the people who made me love this building
Made me curse it's walls the more I loved them
I searched for the peaceful embrace of solitude
Once the storm outside transformed into a typhoon
I found that solitude
In a tiny bare room
With a syringe and spoon
I was unaware
That room was an elevator
That lowered me down the concrete void
As the hurricane outside rattled me violently inside my box
Trapped and lacking all agency
I resigned myself to wherever the elevator chose to take me
After the elevator finished pulling me into the basement
The tsunami seemed to cease
But I was buried under debris
I had to burrow out of my tomb
The dig was tedious and *****
My perseverance was heroic
But triumph was thwarted
When I reached the surface
To discover only wreckage remained
And when I looked up
I saw the building I inhabited
It's damaged facade
Made it clear
I would never visit those floors I missed on the elevator
Above my building
Hangs an empty sky
It's purity is a lie
The page was never blank
Just constantly written on and erased
To lure innocent readers into a tome
Jul 24, 2017
Jul 24, 2017 at 11:48 PM UTC
Blame it on the weak
For they are kind of heart and blinded by reason-
It makes for such easy prey
But such a close and tender evening-
Nights lost in tepid confusion
Although always leading to a false conclusion-
But then again
there are them...
They are the thieves of dreams
Not In search of Rubies nor gems but something that cannot buy you such friends-
A human heart to call their own
A head to scrape along the wall
All to play their selfish selfish games
To have you for their very own
So Why do we love them ?
the ones who make us feel so lonely and scared
Such Neglect Is something we shouldn't dare to bare-
If the world is full of such wonderful people
Why do we fall for those Liars and Cheats?
Such vicious jokes
But they got you...
And I watched you
as you prooved yourself wrong
Dragging yourself through storms to be somewhere you must truly belong
Something you call good-
Well you have a bad case of mirror syndrome, it's true
You fell to the depths of someone- surely not you
Feb 9, 2015
Feb 9, 2015 at 1:31 PM UTC
I meander about the countryside,
Coming upon a fishing city.
They call it Riften,
Home of the thieves.
The guard that stopped me,
Persuaded with a shakedown.
I didn't believe him,
And persuaded back with venom.
The gates opened,
Before thy words.
Revealing a peaceful city,
With many souls.
I roam the marketplace,
Searching for supplies.
Before I make my journey.
To Ivarstead.
A man of charm and price,
Spoke with me.
He sought a job to be done.
He asked me?
Break the law!?
Seriously?
He nodded quietly.
I sigh,
Agreeing to do as he asked.
My friend faendal has taught me well
Of thievery.
This dark elf,
A Argonian lizard.
I took the ring to deliver.
Brynjolf spoke of snow elves,
And an elixir.
As I put the ring,
Into Brand-Shei's pocket.
Escaping the shadows.
The task was done,
And he asked me.
To join the Thieves Guild.
Mar 27, 2014
Mar 27, 2014 at 8:46 AM UTC
people
liars,thieves
killing,robbing,backstabbing
******** I don't need
jerks
Sep 18, 2015
Sep 18, 2015 at 11:55 PM UTC