Sex and Murder Magazine

By Luigi Monteferrante

Piece of land
Or lots
By some account
I plough, sow and harvest
For my needs

Rain falls
I collect
And in drought
Irrigate

The sun is free
As is the air
No taxes yet
From Government

But when they come
I’m sure they will
They will see the sign:
Keep out,
Or else.

A fence runs ‘round
No poking
Don’t trespass
If you do,
It’s your ass

I ask for nothing
What little or much
Is fruit of my arms,
And the work I do Him

Keep out
Stay away
This is my land
Don’t trespass
I got a gun
It’s your ass.