Servants of the Goat

 

Oh, hey

          It’s you

What do you want?

                    Never mind…

                                  I don’t care.

 

Just shut up. Alright?

       You don’t have to stare.

Okay, you know what?

Fine.

Whatever…

 

       But while you’re here,

                 I want to make something clear

 

You see,

when you’re like me,

You are finally free to be

the one

Who holds the key.

The one who calls out the detrimental,

                                                    Hypocritical,

                                                            Noncommittal,

                                                                      Superficial,

                                                                             And irrational.

 

All the plastic beings bloated in their self-righteous stupor of lust and gluttony

        Going in circles on their self-made merry-go-round of pleasure and amusement

These heroes they raise up for themselves to worship, so swearing their fealty

        Surrendering their will and freedom with so little and weak inducement

An outward obligation forced upon us like so much deceitful incumbency

        That we accepted in such a way that was not, shall we say, very prudent

 

And on the other hand,

Having become this firebrand

These lies, I cannot hardly stand

For this is not all that plagues this land

 

As if all this was not enough before,

        That from those who should have watched over us we were deceived?

In fear we tremble, dear God let there be no encore…

        Leaving us with little more than shattered hearts, bereaved

 

Why do so many fixate,

Taking the bait,

Turning irate,

Fostering hate,

Over things that matter so little?

Provoking us to quibble

 

Even unto murder,

Destroying truce’s harbor?

 

So many a fool,

So cool,

But just a tool

Breaking every rule,

Except the one that rules his life

And binds him to this endless strife

 

In the land of wisdom, understanding, and knowledge

These sheep remain just an immigrant

Ever itinerant

Weak minds indifferent

Doom so imminent

And yet they remain belligerent

In their predicament

Grasping, white-knuckled,

Their ignorance.

 

Rejecting anything that may feel uncomfortable

        Walking away from the first sign of responsibility

Always ready to leap in to attack the hurt and vulnerable

        Reverting back to the most banal scurrility

 

Shunning the very idea of sacrifice,

For the sake of others they would not pay any price

 

So now you stand before me here,

        And you dare to question me?

You cannot even see your own fear

        Growing in your chest like a tree

Its roots entwined around and through your lungs

Drenched in poison like a dozen viper’s tongues!

 

When I looked into the abyss

        Staring into the empty soul of humanity

I could still hear the traitor’s kiss

        Sounding like a truth, though is naught but insanity

 

That thought

        You sought,

                And bought

At the brainwashed-mind store

That dark and sickening core,

Of sociological blood and gore that tore

At all humanity’s throat

In the background laughing, the head of the Goat

 

The moment when we as a collective said

        In egoistic pride, “I don’t care.”

Seeking only our own path to tread

        Casting aside any thought for how another might fare

 

So with a smile

We swallowed our bile

Though spiritually senile

We thought to stay a while

In this Land of Lies

Knowing we wouldn’t break our ties

The laughing Goat ate his fill

Simply for the thrill,

Still

       he will

                   kill.

 

Serving their dark master,

        They conceded their souls

Not able to see that after

        They would live life as tortured ghouls

 

So at the sad, pathetic end,

        While always for themselves they had been seeking

They saw the Goat was not their friend

        As he watched them burn, still shrieking

 

So there they went,

A final descent,

In astonishment

To face their punishment

 

The only real questions left to ask are these:

        Will you, my friend, be among those ones?

The purpose of your life fled upon the breeze?

        Soul wreathed in fire of eternal suns?

 

For here upon this now grim field,

        There is no compromise that could denote

Salvation yours for you to wield

        As an unrepentant servant of the Goat