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The Scapegoat
| Open Poetry #37 |
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The Scapegoat |
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XOx Uriah xOX Senior Member
since 2006-02-11
Posts 1403Virginia 
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Ye dwellers in this hamlet, With all your pomp and fine array, Have a tortured soul within your midst ; Whom, to your taloned tongues, fell prey ! 'Twould show more mercy if you'd stab him... Far less suffering would be done ; For knife wounds heal much faster, And leave less scarring than the tongue ! Forty years of slanderous gossip Has turned him into a recluse ; He dares not show himself by day, For fear of more abuse. By day he's abed, an emotional invalid; Sometimes brave enough to venture forth by night. Before he's dealt the final blow... I'd like you to, Ecce Homo... Behold the man... His name is Philip Wright. Upon backtracking Philip's history, ( ficticious gossip being ommited ) I could not find a single crime that this man had committed ; As I searched the bits of evidence, the most damaging fact I found, Was that as a child, he had been cursed, to grow up in your town. He was obviously a dreamer. His manner was distinct. An individual in thought and style of dress. Reports say... He was "different" than the other boys in town ; Meaning... He was probably not as shallow as the rest. It seems that it all began, when Philip was a lad... Labeled "odd" and threatening... The engineer of all things bad. Whatever offense was committed and whoever the offender may be... To find the culprit, there was no need for thought to linger. Heaven above forbid that it should be one of their kids ; So, to the strange child down the road, they'd point their finger. That's the way it started and its yet to find an end ; And through the years the lies have escalated. Even when there were no crimes, with a villian yet to find... Within their minds, more tales were fabricated. Back in Philip's childhood, the tormenting begins... The town had found a fitting Scapegoat, upon which to lay their sins. He was just a yeanling, roaming through their fields ; A solitary lamb who'd gone astray. The wolves contrived and gathered and sought to bring him down ; The lamb survived, but was left frazzled by the fray. Now... Years later... Having tasted of his blood... They still keep a hungry eye upon the fields ; And if by chance they spy him, on a watchful walk-about... Once again, they're snapping... Biting at his heels ! Because of this... His fruit is unripened. His branch has never bloomed. He cowers under night and curses day. His life has never prospered. The world does not make room ... For little black sheep that go astray. Often times, he thought of leaving... Another life, another town ; Should he not see this place again, he would not grieve. But, the years crept up too quickly, And in latter days he found... He now lacked the youth and courage it took to leave. This town had been his home and all he'd ever known. To leave it now... He had no heart to try. Although he had no taste for being scorned and abased, Here he will spend his stifled life and here... He'll die. Time and seasons will abrade the epitaph from his grave ; No legacy to leave on his demise ; Although he'd lived upright... It plagued him day and night... To know his immorality had been immortalized. Black-hearted judges, armed with verbal sticks and stones. 'Neath the weight of sins, the goat's knees bend... No friends to hear his moans . Deceitful little demagogues dance... With all their pomp and swagger... While the tongue stung Scapegoat bleats... For the mercy of the dagger. |
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| © Copyright 2006 Larry F. Leake - All Rights Reserved | |||
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iliana Member Patricius
since 2003-12-05
Posts 13434USA |
"The world does not make room ... For little black sheep that go astray." Understanding this, and I'm reminded of the words of The Christ: "Only in his hometown, among his relatives and in his own house is a prophet without honor." Mark 6:4 NIV |
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Marge Tindal 
since 1999-11-06
Posts 42384Florida's Foreverly Shores |
Happy Valentine's Day~ *Huglets*  ~*Marge*~ ~*The sound of a kiss is not as strong as that of a cannon, but it's echo endures much longer*~ |
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