Kill the Shepherd

Folded hands in proper laps,
Wait for the speaker to conclude.
Rumbling audience and roaring claps,
Or silence, when verbally nude. 

Exposing thoughts once locked up,
Truthful and too dangerous to touch.
Venom poured into a paper cup.
Or so, they will tell you as much.

Forge a word, hammer it down.
Display your fabricated passion.
Hear their cheers shake the ground.
Then exit the place in an orderly fashion. 

A mask of words and costume designed,
Sheep are so easy to beguile.
Subtle promises seemingly benign, 
Grow malignant after a while.

But an honest man is a quiet man.
Spotlights seem to elude him.
Microphones taken from his hand,
The media will only exclude him.

It is the unplugged words spoke,
So quiet they’re barely heard,
And then gone like a wisp of smoke,
That are the very best for the herd.

Sometimes it takes a wolf’s howl,
To stir the minds of wandering sheep.
The shepherd dead and wolf obeyed now will,
Shake them from an ignorant sleep.

The End

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