Best Scapegoat Poems
Here is just a little clue,
Look inside the words I write,
Other words hide in there, too,
When packed in tight, they unite.
Scapegoat is the first one,
I don’t think a goat’s aware,
Escaping from this poem,
That his pelt might need repair.
Afterthought is complex too,
A thought that comes thereafter,
After all the work is through,
Thought-too-late distractor.
Airbag? Are you serious?
Air, of course, you cannot see,
Plastic bags are hazardous.
That just makes no sense to me.
Doughnuts are my favorite treat,
It’s true nutlets grow on trees,
Bakery goods are oh so sweet,
But I’m out of dough, you see.
©2020BeverlyStock
I keep wanting and desire all the same
My own blood to allow me to belong
I did not ask , it was God whom placed me here
No matter what I do you refuse to let me near
I search within to try and give reason
at the end of all there is nothing left but treason
I am one of you, one of our tribe
Grand parents and Parents now gone you don't need a reason
You have aborted my very existence
Yet call me to remind , I do believe you have enjoyed casting me aside.
I am here , I exist , Murray a strong name , my birth you can not claim
A time tested honor
to be branded a goner,
just stand in the middle
of their circle of blame.
In this sex-crazed society
still obsessed with propriety,
it is you they'll belittle
to protect their good name.
*Inspired by the spot-on gorgeous frowny faces anchoring the Fox News Network.
Keep pointin' dem fingers boys!
:)
I'm hiding here amongst your brood
slowly hush communication
poison I inject the mood
begging for some segregation
Sacrifice one, I implore you please
and load him with your dark emotion
when he's brought down to his knees
allow him access to my potion
Downhill drink and sniff and shoot
twirl him and just step away
most will grind him with their boot
afraid their souls his poor display
The neighbors they will Fedex pity
bind with them so feed them thus
tell them he is in the city
then throw him weak beneath a bus
He'll cobble there in frail despair
rotting in and out
no longer can he ever care
converging with the undevout
Now clear retire hacienda
grand and drama free
you'll have completed an agenda
many infants drowned at sea
Scapegoat Mutiny
The perspicuous statements by The Man, meant to flatter,
Were maximally inurbane. In hindsight could only alienate
The dozens of individuals who now gravitate to retaliate.
The Scapegoat Mutiny must succeed!
Woe to those who think it transitory,
bountiful malignant repercussions shall befall them!
Any actions to dissipate will fail!
Those are the claims of the mutineers.
The capricious results will be perceived as beneficial by some
And detrimental by others.
15 September 2016
Ralph had used her as a transitory scapegoat throughout life.
Feigning to dissipate the almost daily, inurbane strife,
capricious Rikki could always flatter his malignant pride.
A perspicuous grace note, she overlooked each time he lied.
Seemingly, his constant intention was to alienate;
Ralph was that turncoat to whom Rikki was game to gravitate.
written September 4, 2016
I believe there was a time
When you may have cared about me
I can’t say it was love
I don’t know if your
Capable of that or
Ever will be
Over the years mental illness
Addiction and greed has destroyed
Any kind of relationship
Or feeling of family between us
Lines have been drawn
In the rock
Unable to ever be removed
I’ve been drawn and quartered
The emotional pain
Has hit so hard it has
Become physical
And tortured my soul
The only way to move forward is to become
Like the the Phoenix
I must die and be reborn
You all have murdered me
May I finally rest
Peacefully
The Scapegoat
It was either her or me,
I choose it to be me,
not because I loved her.
Maybe I once did,
perhaps I did love her,
I’ll never know… it's too late.
I always thought she could do better,
in my mind, she deserved better,
at least better than me.
That's what made me come to the decision.
I’ll be the one to give in,
she never asked me to,
I choose to,
not out of love,
not of out of care.
Just because she deserved better.
The day came,
a few minutes before my surrender,
there she was with another.
Another arm holding her tight,
another lips kissing hers,
another man being there.
Being where I was an hour ago,
Where I always been,
until then.
I stood there,
speechless,
lost and confused,
knowing it is too late to turn back.
Without thought,
knowing that I was nothing,
nothing at all,
but the scapegoat.
I took her with me.
It was I!
It was I that deserved better.
Only when I could see I knew I was blind.
I did love her,
And still do
Hard times had befallen ancient of times,
oppression from a distant shore,from
a system bred of tyrannical emperor's,
sense of freedom lost,how must it be regained...
give us strength,give us wisdom they plead,
help us in our hour of need...
so the lamb of God was taken as a scapegoat,
transferring their percieved misfortune and sin,
and as those disbelievers of our master Christ
hollering,crucify him crucify him,
with our great teacher's last breath,he said
"forgive them father,for they know not what they do..."
And as hard times befall us today,
what have we learned,
but to look elsewhere for a scapegoat...
Of scapegoats
Who in cold walk without coats
For they have been neglected
And left unprotected
Of human race
Whose freedom is less
And whose efforts;
Meanwhile labelled ‘faults’;
Are nothing, but the burden
That which they do not deserve
Of mankind
Who for nothing labor for the unkind
And toil to no avail for a free mind
While their speech
Is and forever a somber pitch
Bully me you, I exemplified archetypal scapegoat
Even as old curmudgeon, aye pucker
and raspily suction toothless mouth
drawing reminiscent guffaws affecting
attempt impersonating plumber
(think unclogging toilet)
please support your local bummer
back in the day one
long haired pencil neck geeks palled
around with another
hirsute nerd - Roger Kummerer,
(who both of us graduated Methacton
High School class of 1977),
and yours truly readily
admitting, alluding, and attesting
without shadow of doubt
representing the dumber
than rocks of said beastie boys
bandits, donning particolored pachyderm
gabardine garb getup trumpeting,
especially as Mummer
on each New Year's Day
with bare ass tuchus
excellently imitating courtesy said orifice
(as chief motormouth) sound
of combo motorboat hummer.
Ah... the joys of amazingly aging gracefully
happily recalling never being beat into pulp dully
imagining dimming sense and sensibility
before (appearing gratefully dead)
lifeless body dumped into gully
nonetheless all the while fully
maintaining conscious, and forcefully
summoning forth latent powers gleefully
choking living daylights masterfully
delivering just desserts upon Tom Viglione,
whose plaintive laments truthfully
resonate as blessed music
to ears unaccustomed hearing pitifully
sounding long overdue comeuppance
forever disbelieving wrongfully
perpetrated injustice witnessed impossible mission
fueling an ordinarily meek lad
only in his dreams, he envisions zestfully.
Pugnacious thuggish hooligans... although
decades long since elapsed, whereby hoodlums
jockeyed to rain one after another verbal blow
threatening introverted diminutive boy
who, no surprise did eventually,
albeit (stuntedly) grow
(as an aside resembled anorexic
Santa Claus ho... ho... ho...)
still wracked, impacted, affected...,
this punster, he haint Joe
King, but upholds valuable humor less or mo'
feebly, lamely, and quirkily aspires toward po'
whit tree linkedin with infusing,
(no matter ex post facto)
freeing mine unsung hero.
We walk with the information of
quasars and the discernment of protoplasm.
Each day we live and die, each day our tears run dry.
Information is the rubble, the clutter of our civil war.
Reality becomes disposable when fact and
fevered fiction are made coequals,
when the rampancy of lies massacres the truth.
Each day we live and die, each day our tears run dry.
Propaganda walls our gated communities, our guarded cells.
So many concoct frightful conspiracies from techno-witchcraft.
So many dehumanize and scapegoat from delusive threats.
Each day we live and die, each day our tears run dry.
So many are captive here to the craven complex of revenge.
So many swallow here, the mollifying Fentanyl
of a cruel and brutal state.
Clinging to the demagogue, no one is free.
Somewhere in the brownout, is there a beacon?
Somewhere in the nightmare, do we awaken?
Each day we live and die,
each day our tears run dry.
What happened to
What we were?
Why did it happen?
I don't know
But I know that
We had a good time
So don't even worry
I don't blame you
I blame them
Well, I'm the scapegoat
But I don't care
It's ok
I don't mind, I'll bear it
I'm the scapegoat
Driving dirty used to be
So fun to us
But now its blasphemy
What do they know anyway?
But if we did it again
We'd probably get caught
I don't blame you though
Don't even worry
You're a good guy
Well, I'm the scapegoat
But I don't care
It's ok
I don't mind, I'll bear it
I'm the scapegoat
They wear their suits
But I don't wear mine
They look clean cut
While I look scruff
They read the paper
I do what I should
The times were good though
They came and left
Left to early I'd say
Well, I'm the scapegoat
But I don't care
It's ok
I don't mind, I'll bear it
I'm the scapegoat
So I paid their fines
And broke my back
Doing pointless tasks
But now I know
That loving this
Wasn't wrong, it was right
So if they tell me otherwise
I'll turn a shoulder
And I'll leave it all behind
Being a scapegoat wasn't bad
Just another experience
I'm glad it happened
I'm glad I'm clean
I'm the scapegoat
Do you have what it takes?
Fast forward
hit the breaks
Life retaliates-
And I can’t hear you
I’ve raised the stakes.
You’re losing,
abusing the guidelines
Trying to read the fine lines-
That are already erased.
My reality is faced-
With demons trying to bring me down
I can feel myself drown
In and out of breath
Your words they hit me
And clog my throat-
It’s such a pity
I’m the scapegoat
“If someone besides a black ever sings the real gut bucket blues, it’ll be a Jew. We both know what it’s like to be someone else’s footstool.”
-Ray Charles
Author’s note: this is a companion piece to “Where Are They Now?”
Published in Out On A Limb, 2020
In the shadows lurk a venomous hate,
a darkness that festers, sealing our destiny.
Its target, the sons and daughters
of a heritage rich in history’s pages.
From ancient times to the modern era,
the prejudice persists in myriad ways.
A scapegoat for woes, a target for blame,
the Jew bears the brunt of humanity’s disgrace.
With whispers of conspiracy, lies unfurl,
a web of deceit, cruel and cold.
Stereotypes wielded like a sharpened blade,
piercing the soul, leaving hearts gored.
From pogroms to ghettos, from Holocaust’s cry,
to the present day’s thriving rhetoric.
The echoes of hatred, they still ring out,
in the air we breathe, in the ground we’ve uncovered.
Surrounded by darkness, a glimmer of
resilience and courage, shining bright.
For the Jewish spirit, it will not shatter
in the face of adversity, but will awake.
So let us stand against the trend,
with love and compassion, side by side.
For in unity, we find our power
and banish the darkness with unwavering light.