Lucrative Vocation
By - Monkeyzerg

I scan my target with my mechanical eye
And choose a window, however high.
Every wall I confront is permeable
Through which I diffuse without a sigh.

Darkness I wear as tight as skin.
Shadows I keep as close as kin.
Through the obscure I choose to swim
To reach the object of my whim.

On hostile grounds I employ friends against foes:
There’s Jack the Black that deals blunting blows;
The messy last resort, my bloodletting blade;
And for range, a bow, with a family of arrows.

Before me guards fall without a cry.
Against my will the few resistors tend to die.
And sticking to my clandestine conduct’s codes,
Of innocent blood I remain dry.

Darkness I wear as tight as skin.
Shadows I keep as close as kin.
Through the obscure I choose to swim
To reach the object of my whim.

When in need I produce my bag of tricks:
No lock withstands my flippant picks;
Mines and bombs add to the fun;
And when I cannot see, I flare my glowing sticks.

In the end it’s my wits that count.
Maps, scrolls, books, I study all in large amounts.
Scouting, solving, crafting are all part of the trade.
For me, planning and execution are tantamount.

Darkness I wear as tight as skin.
Shadows I keep as close as kin.
Through the obscure I choose to swim
To reach the object of my whim.

Using my skills and wares the precious I steal.
I loot stashes, break vaults, and bypass every seal.
I uncover secrets and unearth the most priceless treasures.
And if I get lucky in a kitchen, I invite myself to a hasty meal.

I obtain any item in my line of sight:
Gold, gems, trinkets, anything that reflects light.
I filch the rich and pick pockets that clink and sag.
And if my target is vital, I’m willing to put up a fight.

Darkness I wear as tight as skin.
Shadows I keep as close as kin.
Through the obscure I choose to swim
To reach the object of my whim.

By now you must see
That thievery is a part of me.
And to those persistent foes
Who seek to deprive my vocation of me:
“Beware! For I am the doom
That lurks in your haven’s gloom.
And yes, my smite does bite
In every right!”


Go back to Library of Poetry