False prophets are rife. They take your life.
Turn around and they surround you
with their shiny glare of gold and glory.
They have no story.

Speak not of their wiles
nor of their guile for by the
very nature of the world
they win.
It’s a rigged game when
there is no shame.

Shhhhhhhhhhh.
Every wire is tapped.
Every soul is zapped.
Every mummy wrapped.

Who walks among you
are robbers and thieves.
Their auras like sieves
and no one believes.

Vicki Woodyard