Best Scapegoats Poems
We are taught not to judge but how far does that go?
Yes, we're all taught to love but how much of it shows?
We like to throw stones at the devil's scapegoats
Yet the ears that will listen are hearing this quote:
"Judge not lest ye be judged", and isn't it true?
Or are some people so bad that our judgment is due?
Did you think that salvation was exclusive to you?
If you light fires of judgment won't you be consumed?
I can't speak for you but I don't want to judge people
After all, under God we are all loved as equals
When I join the accuser and his self-righteous band
Somehow I can see my own sins in the sand
What’s the color of forced migration pain?
Ask a black person in America,
and you’ll get fifty different slave answers
What’s the silent sound of invisible chains?
Fifty killahurts of black ...
Aryan brotherhood iron swastikas uniting
What’s the latest “pull the trigger” hate spin?
Fifty states of fascist terror —
Goshen ghettos under daily thought policing
Who got their Klan thumbs
pressing heavy on the justice scales?
Increasing the widow population of the cemetery cells
Who got their hooded hands
casino slot turning the roulette wheel?
Decreasing the charitable portion of the orphan meals
America’s moral debts are in the red
Haughty heifer blame your mounting troubles
on the poor black scapegoats instead
Fifty shades of dark overcast gloom
hanging over the branches of the oak tree
Liberty got locked in a buried room
waiting for captivity’s end to be set free
Fifty shades of rejection in vessels of doom
Thirteen colonies
of spotted lepers will be coming home soon
Fifty shades of black ...
let the moon eclipse the sun
Fifty shades of stars ...
let the striped prisoners run
Now let me share my shivery story,
With random revelations shed some light -
Though I’m a dazzling glow but no glory,
I’m much more than white mesmerising sight.
I know around the globe I’m frowned upon,
Shoved aside as unremarkable meme.
Frosty and I, my boon companion -
Ephemeral scapegoats of Nature’s whim.
The poignant part that’s so freezin’ unfair,
Snowbirds and geese leave sweet homeland behind,
And what the hail, even a grizzly bear
Under my frozen fist checks out to hide.
I’m well aware that cars are going nuts,
When on black ice wheels spin out of control,
I’m traffic’s curse and drivers hate my guts -
Apologies for my heavy downfall.
Still silver lining’s part of every cloud -
I’m not warm and affectionate as such,
But my visage being shovelled and plowed
Morphs into cool and captivating touch.
Though I’m made up of many a snowflake -
Floating frigid and fragile to adore,
I swear and say for elves and Santa’s sake -
There is white substance to my melting core.
I’m seasonal and thus a treasured treat,
I’m well equipped and sell extremely well:
Without my gifts, apart from slush and sleet,
Would be no sleighs, no skis, no NHL.
I’m a commodity just so you know,
When you can’t smell the roses, seize the snow!
Let winter’s inhibition cover go -
And Let it glow! Let it glow! Let it glow!
Oceans started to rise
As polar caps melted
Meteors fell from the skies
The Earth’s surface was pelted
The days grew dark
Radiation was high
Cosmic sparks
Lit up the sky
Religious zealots started fighting
Earthquakes continued to rumble
Mayan cults were uniting
Governments started to tumble
Fear grew rampant
As death counts mounted
Cities were vacant
Safe havens were touted
People looking for answers
As chaos ensued
Religions needed enhancers
Scapegoats were pursued
Prognosticators saying,
“I told you so
The end not delaying
Pray for your soul”
Humanity extinguished
Except for a few
The prepared distinguished
Who knew what to do
A new world was born
In 2013
The old world forlorn
Never again to be seen
I remember the time-freezing moment
When Lieutenant Dan made his peace
And opened the dimension of gratitude
The audience experiencing the quickening
I myself have come full circle
And found a tranquil harmony
No longer griping about the government
The church, or scapegoats on TV
How immature for me to think
That fairness grows like a flower
Our souls MUST experience injustice
The reference point of abuse of power
Without a garden of universal cruelty
How could we ever understand love?
So with a heart of gratitude I give thanks
For the blossoming of this compelling bud
Nero was a cruel, unfair emperor playing
the lyre as his disguise to conceal his consuming guilt;
and he caused destruction without feeling
an ounce of pity for those he governed with distrust.
Why did he want to destroy a city so mighty and glorious,
and replace it with a Golden Palace and magnificent gardens?
It seems inconceivable, but it was confirmed by many as the Great Fire
which ravaged Rome for six horrible days...who dared to call Nero a liar?
On the rooftop, with the widest view of Rome burning underneath,
Nero played the lyre as his disguise...singing,"The destruction of Troy" with derision.
And while looking so innocent and sad, he did nothing to control it;
wasn't his madness an evident sign of that contemplated act brought to completion?
Finding the scapegoats was too easy for him, to cover up his evil deed...
he blamed the Christians and had them thrown to the beasts of the Colosseum,
but many more were crucified along the Via Appia and was Nero appeased?
No, he still continued to play the lyre as his disguise with increased delirium.
What are we to ourselves
lingo sought
scapegoats of our own identity
lost within the trials
of times temptations sought ~
to ne'er find struggle
we assail our own belief
and brashly condemn the world
for having the same frailty!
What are we ~
but children of contempt
for ourselves, for the intrusion
of someone else, who calmly
professes our identity
as if catching a foul ball in a park
left insidiously clean
by youth who gather there willingly
before the world has brought
their realness to themselves
Who are We!
but condemners of the wrath
that we feel for ourselves,
for the mistakes that led us to believe
the world had no choice, but to condemn us . . .
A child of virtue, when the world looked forward
and wars were fought for a decent outcome,
and not the perennial ideal of fighting for wars
to happen, to prove we had strength, and justice!
Who are we ~ now
while we are aging, and the memories are the same
as the ones of childhood, when we hurt ourselves
wondering, if we were worth the time to dream . . and love!
Who are We!!
‘What good´s permitting some prophet of doom? To wipe every smile away …’
The orator grins at his drunken audience through make up and mask
Opens the cabaret’s veil in the theatre of forsaken minds on the run
Champagne flows from magic fountains while Berlin falters from grace
The wild thirties dance to an apocalyptic sound of paralized conscience
Outside the toothbrush moustache commandeers Svastika’s march
Torches set light to mislead passion and houses of semitic prayer
Crystal breaks as brown shirts parade their poisonous conquest
Heil to the savage Führer when ‘reality is something to rise above’
Pirouettes swirl on stilettos while boots squash compassion and lives
Caviar evades judeo-bolshevik scapegoats and trains to the camps
Blond blue-eyed conception born to inhabit Lebensraum on the map
Feeds into industrialist’s dream of war effort and armoured production
The white flag of surrender stuck into skull bones and belligerent stride
No meaningful rise of resistance only raised arms and ‘following orders’
When God capitulated and sang his swan song to the sound of hell fire
And prophets of doom cashed in on gas chambers and golden teeth
It’s easy in hindsight to lift the pen from an immaculate ink-pot of courage
But where would I have been when ashes in Auschwitz were ascending
When evil tore into the last bit of humanity in a vile coup of disgrace
As I look into the mirror of history I reflect on the cowardice in my soul
21st February 2020
‘What good´s permitting some prophet of doom? To wipe every smile away …’
Line from Cabaret the musical base on Christopher Isherwood’s 'Good-bye to
Berlin'
Theme for the poem ‘Reality is something to rise above' Liza Minelli
False promises and bold faced lies
From leaders we call men,
Too foolish, vain and unwise
It’s the election blues again.
Feign to believe the web they weave
With patient ears we listen,
Future balanced if they achieve
From deceitful eyes teeth glisten.
In principle, fate is our blame
Yet in our selfish pride,
Our judgment shadows woeful shame
Behind scapegoats fail to hide.
Ballot fiends they all may be
Watching poll numbers, plus or minus three,
What will their victory bring to me
After January twenty-three.
Subsidized youth sports, gun control
Child care dollars galore,
A policy a day, and truth be told
Campaign gifts are a chore.
What matters East-West-South ‘n North
Is that we get it right,
While opponents bicker back and forth
By cable, bus or flight.
Success depends on unity
Without it we’re a wreck,
While one side suffers mutiny
The Grits give Tories heck.
The separatist Bloc` says “Let us go”
Demanding sovereign freedom,
White margarine and one-tongued-signs
Does Canada really need them.
The answer is, quite simply, oui`
We cannot tear apart,
Instead, honor all with dignity
And make a brand new start.
While men debate with pointed fingers
On issues big or small,
Our neighbor’s fear of terror lingers
With plans to build a wall.
Five billion they shall not relinquish
While bring East to peace,
Infernal war fires ne’r extinguish
Diplomacy for lease.
Denying partnership in war
To Iraq we didn’t go,
And up in space where eagles soar
Again we said “Oh no”.
Canada is not the States
Their future is not ours,
While Bush comments on us, berates
His future quickly sours.
When we look back upon these days
In golden years of life,
Will mirrored lakes obscure with haze
Too thick for sharpened knife.
Or does the future hold great treasure
For Canadians, one and all,
With strength and courage beyond measure
Winter, Spring, Summer and Fall.
Like years before, each voter chooses
With hopes and dreams of change and glory,
But in the end there’s winners and losers
Different writer, same old story.
Scott Goldsberry
December 30, 2005
He come into this world for our sake
His unconditional love made Him sacrifice Himself
With each step He took, we follow
God was merciful unto us,for He loves us more
Opting to give us His only son so that we could be saved
Three nails and a cross was the perfect sacrifice
No scapegoats could clean our sins
More and more were sacrificed so that God could forgive us
The Lamb of God was the only redemption
He was called the King of the Jews
Crowned with thrones on His head, surely he was humble to death
Each stripe cleaned our sins
Each drop of blood from His body washed us clean
Each tear He shed, took away our pain and sadness
Three nails and a cross
As the nails pierced His body, He scream in pain
The cup He drank was too heavy for the physical form
The weight of the sins were too heavy for one man
But through Him we found salvation and love
As the sky got more darker, He asked why He forsake Him
The Creator was been nailed into a cross by His creation
It was the fulfilling of the scriptures
With His last words, it was completely finished
Three nails and a cross took death and gave us life.
Brutus Iulius Trois page 08
Suddenly stillness all sounds silenced the last pirate slain.
From the bowels of the Tireme came cheers that grew louder
From men newly freed from their enslavement to the Thracian oars
Phyrgians, Scythians, Mysians and Lycians
all hittite clansmen, kinsmen and allies of the Trojan tribes
also were heard loud laudations from the surviving Phoenicians
with softer lamentations for those they had lost.
The Phoenician Teresh, the purple merchant of Tyre
swore blood brotherhood to Brutus
binding the Trojans to the Sea people in perpetuity
giving his twelfth son Tursha to squire the Trojan
Tursha terrified in the sea battle had hidden in the hold
praying to Mercury the patron of merchants
Brutus renamed the boy Turonus and proclaimed him a Trojan
Brutus sent this new nephew to tend to Imogen
In the sad sea green eyes of this foster child
Imogen saw echos of her own recent woes
comforting him she found comfort herself.
When the Trojan siege had ended by trickery
When the city was sacked and the Palladium taken
The Greeks left a land salted with blood and bone
The Greeks left a desolated city with defiled temples
The Greeks left cursed with their own profane deeds.
The Greeks left the Trojan traitor Antenor king with nothing to rule
To abate the Greek curses caused by Locrian Ajax's vile deeds
The Pythia at Delphi declared a thousand years of atonement
with two Locrian priestesses sent as sacrifices to Troy
sent to serve Minerva's temple in Troy, bearing the Ajaxian curse.
As the oracle demanded Diomedes returned the Palladium to Aeneas
Then did all Greek suffering cease, Ulysees returned home.
Hesione's son Teucer founded a new Salamis in Cyprus.
When Antenor rebuilt Troy's walls, Neptune shook them down
sending waves that washed away fields, salting the gardens again.
Apollo plagued Antenor with mice which ate the harvest to the seed.
Scamander's golden spring lambs, sickened and died
Afraid of what Minerva would do if they killed the Locrian Scapegoats
Antenor and his sons soon abandoned Troy to the Phyrgians
They sailed off seeking shelter far from this thrice cursed homeland
TWO CURIOUS MINDS
1
TWO CURIOUS minds entwined with the
mind of God
Einstein and Bohr
The debate was difficult
and more
tipsy from decades of argument
their friendship soared
2
determinism an evil force if
to be believed by?
refutes all claims of an
eternal spirit that decides
external scapegoats lay blame
says those without souls
3
and through the window of a
prestigious institute
a wildly white-haired man
peered across the campus
and noted a beautiful
garden next door
4
it belonged to those who had lost
their mind in ways similar to
all those who -- like him tried.
the lunatic asylum could be
his home if not more
5
back to the blackboard with weapon
in hand, the equation for his madness;
unified field theory
fleeing all sensible manner it hid
as a wolf in his den
6
not a weak heart so his bold heart
worked and labored
shredding chalk and sweating drops
of intuition
variables came and left as Mistresses
in his mind
7
the gravity of this situation was to
marry such forces
his ill-born child, not just his own--
cried in his arms
papa Einstein fed his baby but would
never put it to bed.
:: ~ ::
Last Call
This is where I feel at ease. Senses heightened subtly by the mixture of light and darkness. The night time lights; bar lights, street lamps, flashing fluorescent advertisements, candle light, moon light; nights are illuminated with versatility, glow sticks ever growing, ever changing the scenery. The street lamps reflect in a puddle near the sidewalk. Fleeting fluorescents pronounce the beauty of eclecticism. Candlelight surpassed only by the light of moon’s romance
for whom do I emanate
light and dark mingle
perceptions change according
Reflecting back, I had no hips when I began my career. They were not necessary for my clients. I beheld the warmth and beauty, starving for positive attention, and pleasing another, after family imprisonment had me chained down and kicked for so long. (A flower for just a greeting, I had found my calling). After thirty-three years in my lucrative, business, I have blossomed into the shape of an hourglass, with the wisdom and class that come naturally with study for my service. I have a few fledglings of my own, able to sway their hips and converse interestingly with the painted lips of their chosen trade. They will flourish alongside me, if they take my hard, learned lessons as gospel.
youth is coveted by most
stay fit or lose ground
keep current and set high goals
As luck would have it daddy broke naught my spirit, nor my bones, but did a job on my secret parts, sacred and hidden from others. Wait! What is this I understand? I may work and emancipate myself! Be freed of my family’s corrupt prison of Ugly. I earned my papers at sixteen with family applause. Scapegoats gone, time to more than survive….but thrive. Yes, freedom is a state of mind, yet one’s mind holds only so much tenacity.
supreme Judge is not human
proper escorts, charm
and will never hear, last call
Sunshine Williams
Cursing and cutting bleeding and boiling
Undressed and undone...like a microscopic maggot now scorched in the sun
Strung out and strung up
Feasts of flesh...decomposing...devolved...deterioration
Anti-creation
Over the limit and over the line over the counter...my drug is to die
Gold unto giants and silver to swine
Drunk on divine...water to wine...dead end drives that lead to destruction
Evil eyes crying...soon dry...evaporation
Anti-creation
Saints get slaughtered when lambs turn into lions
Cold cash currency...now nobodies buying
Frozen in fires...fiends now frying
From the lost and the living to the dead and the dying
From fears to frustration...anger to annihilation
Anti-creation
Sewer mouth scapegoats are buried and burned by propaganda puppets
Red moon riders ride shooting stars
From the nuclear blaze a bad beast is born
Scarlet is sin...savage is scorn
Ripped and torn
Ravaged and tangled
Mangled by mutants...minions set to start a mass mutilation
Anti-creation
Some parents set a bad example
when don't make their children tremble:
no fear of an omniptent God,
no faith to sustain them in hard times;
they themselves havel lied,
and their seed have no love that fortifies.
Tomorrow these boys and girls
will have no vision, no future with an indelible event:
young ladies impregnated by irresponsible boys,
who smoke and drink holding no steady job,
and worst of all, they will steal and rob
to support their habits...would kids want daddies like that?
What's happened to the united, caring and godly family
that worshiped God and gave Him thanks for their prosperity?
What do we see after its breaking-up: hate and rebellion:
with mom and dad being neglected and entirely forgotten?
We have seen the outcome of this social plague: people relying on welfare;
no, our forefathers never experienced or even imagined
of being the scapegoats: the abused and the unloved...
who are those young men and women on the city's streets, or anywhere?
Why are they in such a pitiful state? Don't they have eyes that sag
and lips that are drier than sand? You may find one of your kids there!
Copyright 2012 by Andrew Crisci