The Thief 2015 Version

A thief once came into my life,

and took away by point of knife,

my love of illusion, an inner wealth,

my love of life, my mental health.

I searched to and I searched fro,

for that thief had left me low.

A blade of lies, hilt of deceit,

what thieves take leaves none discrete.

To take one's things can leave a mess,

and more their value heightens distress.

But when they take parts of your life,

experiences claimed by good and strife.

Parts of your being which you did sew,

your seeds for future none would know.

You give them life and keep their home,

before they've blossomed the thief is gone.

To wear your life as if their own,

to bear your past, leave you unknown.

Your words and deeds have built their throne,

while they've left you without home.

I never stopped my vigil against this beast,

for ae'r my loss not be their feast.

When I told my friends of all this strife,

They merely said: "I guess that's life".

Brian Joseph Johns

I wrote a poem like this in 2001 and published it online (I've long since lost that version of it along with another poem called Revolution, which secretly became quite popular), The thief in this poem is really a group of people who try to take things from you by deceiving you and others of the original creator of whatever they attempt to take. Some believe that the creations of others comes from the proximity of others to you but this can be foiled by the thieves, who try to always make their influence appear the best, often in mockery of other cultures like Japan, Korea or even China and Thailand who believe that your behaviour after an interaction indicates your level of respect for them and they are all cultures for whom I have a great deal of respect and care.

So a group of people have made that into a group based game of affecting or swaying that perception by affecting your behaviour after interactions with certain groups in order to favour those of the people attempting such a thing unfortunately. The same people do so by trying to imply their control over you when you do good after such an interaction. So what it comes down to is that when you write something for someone you care about, its stolen by such people as being their own. These people by the way (illegally) monitor computers for such content to take by such means, taking it even before it gets published online because their eavesdropping system catches it before hand. They're not Government by the way. It is usually a group of people close to where you live that do so or at least have access to this eavesdropping (which can see the contents of your screen or log your key strokes). So it is this group that sees what you do, then makes it a game of taking it from you socially while abusing you.

So those are the thieves.

I actually started writing and pursuing it as a hobby that I took seriously (on and off) from the time I was eleven though I`d started writing stories when I was around five or six. I'd been invited to an extra curricular writing class at school when I was eleven. The school was Kingslake Public School and I had a great and very inspiring teacher there who noticed that I enjoyed creating worlds, drawings and poetry (poetry and doodles literally covered my school books front and back back in 1978). It was a great class that I enjoyed, and did well at, landing a few pieces of my work in the school foyer at the time. Not bad for a nerd.