Prophets for Profit

One commonality I’ve noticed

Is that, people love to tell others

Not to subscribe to another’s bullshit

But watch, and listen to their own.

Another commonality I’ve noticed

Is that, these same people

No matter how delusional

Will acquire followers like sheep to a Shepard.

And they do it warmly, and with a smile.

And they’ll agree with you entirely.

They’ll make you feel safe.

They’ll tell you what to see and how to see it,

Treating you like their own personal parlor trick.

Their greatest illusion will be their acceptance.

While the bullshit they feed

In return for a profit—they’ll make themselves

The prophet—which they need to feel sound.

One commonality I’ve noticed

Is that, people who can’t be alone

Will do everything it takes not to be alone

Even when that means taking you with them.

They will win your will, with or without your consent.

They will make it feel like your own choice

To gain your trust, and dissolve you of fear.

Though fear isn’t always a negative—

Often it’s a tell tale sign—so

These commonalties I’ve noticed

Are geared to my liking, but at least

I’ve got the peasants fortune to tell you

That, prophets for profit will always be cunning.

And though wolves wear many clothes,

So do Shepards.

Being silly on my Soap Box Tree, Jan. 2021

for richer or poorer

I would rather be

a poor man

with a rich soul,

than a rich man

with a poor heart.

Topanga Beach. October, 2020

In the house I keep

In the house I keep each wall shall be

A coloring book for poetry

Where colors burst in harmony

Where war and peace succumb to paint.

In the house I keep each window sill

Shall only bear the daylight spill

Where succulents hang with free will

Where laughter’s never faint.

In the house I keep each lock will turn

With open ended thoughts to churn

Where no one line deserves to burn

Where honesty is quaint.

But when fear knocks in the house I keep

There will be no reason for which to weep

My hands dipped well within relief

Each wall we’ll finger paint.

In the house I keep my only wish

To deserve and serve this simple dish

Where forks and knives grow strong and rich

Where no wall goes untouched.

Just the right amount

Just the right

amount of whiskey

can make a poor man rich

and a rich man poor

it all just depends on

who’s asking for more.