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The King's

Favorite Scapegoat

By Wild Rose Cherry

Copyright © 2018 by Wild Rose Cherry

Smashwords Edition

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Table of Contents

They Say I am but Man's Vessel

Throwing Stones from Above

God Uses His Fist

The Clear Minds of Equals

Did You Know?

Boys' Club

2 + 2 = 4


About the Author

The King's

Favorite Scapegoat


If you put muscles on an idiot, you just get a bigger idiot.

They Say I am but Man's Vessel

I am not your vessel; you are my fertilizer -

Now take your stench and go away.

I am a lady who prefers her own kind,

I need not deference, chivalry, nor charity from men.

I do need men to be grown, mature, and respectful,

And I see that there are many such examples around.

But those others that like only women with good genes for physique,

Good manners in the bedroom,

Good skills in the kitchen,

Good girls on their knees,

Worshipping at the spring of machismo -

Who but a boy fancies himself a demigod?

Their action heroes attack problems with violence,

Like befuddled apes let loose in civilization.

Give us men, real men, true men, who know themselves,

And desire only to be useful to the world,

And take a little share of happiness for themselves.

Give us men who are equals to grown women,

And I will lay down my weapons,

And finally be at rest

In a peaceful world.

Throwing Stones from Above

The poor, it seems, are draining us dry of wealth;

Strong women are turning men into cowards;

Homosexuals are corrupting straight men and women;

Atheists are undermining God's will;

Immigrants are weakening our culture.

We have scrutinized the marginalized,

Analyzed their motives,

Watched them stalk the herd from without,

And we have seen, good sheeple,

That the outcasts are evil,

And mean to bring godly men and women to their knees.

Thankfully, rich men like the President are on our side,

And sanity will soon be restored to the world.

Authoritarianism forever.

Patriarchy forever.

Let liberty be vanquished and placed in her grave.


God Uses His Fist

He is the God of infinite love,

Eternal patience, and unbounded wisdom.

Leprechauns, elves and the Tooth Fairy.

God is the instrument of authoritarians,

Employed to enforce their dysfunctional world view on the rest.

God is the friend of the wealthy, powerful and venal.

God is a big business.

God is the patron of the corrupt.

What sane person chooses Noah's Ark over evolution?

What lucid mind believes in the Nativity?

What planet survives with religion choking the voice of reason?

None – the silent Universe goes on with or without Earth,

And it's endlessly mad crowds.

The Clear Minds of Equals

Simmering love, scant notice given to our token differences.

We are two beings, capable of knowing ourselves,

And each other.

I cannot bear to leave you,

For you are my equal, my counterpart,

My still heart waits for you to return.

Come at last to my door,

Follow the scent of me to the bed,

I am waiting for you.

Within me is a turn of destiny,

I will change your life,

As you will become part of my own.

I wish to be your wife,

Yet I cannot force my hopes upon you.

It will wilt without you here,

A desert will suffocate me,

I will grow older, and older,

And more bitter-tasting all the time,

If I do not grow my boughs out to your own -

If we are not equal,

We are alone.

So I cry out to you -

Come, sweet love, and find my eyes open,

Waiting to see you here at last.

Did You Know?

If she does not want your eyes wandering there,

If she has not asked for the touch of your hand,

If she is vulnerable to your power at work,

If she is married, engaged, or unavailable to you,

If she is not your wife, fiancée, or girlfriend,

You must act accordingly.

Did you not read the memo from Cupid?

Lovers engage in the dances of love,

And those who are not lovers, do not.

It is not your prerogative to make her your lover.

The rights of the master are dissipating in the fury

Of women, and men, who say,

We will not be pushed on anymore.

Boys' Club

If you need a fist, or some power

To hold her down,

Are you not but a boy

Pretending to be a man?

Real men are invited to bed, and welcome to stay

For a long time.

Boys need to tie up their women.

It's all about power, you see;

Power for the weak of mind,

Is controlling the other.

Child's fantasy is all it is.

Look out boys – adults are taking away your toys.

2 + 2 = 4

The President is a boor.

He cannot maintain a grasp on reality,

So he tells us his dreams are the only truth.

Such is the way of the young child,

Though the child is not powerful,

Or a danger to others.

The boor cannot bring himself yet to say

What he hates, fears, loathes the most -




As Americans deign to become a dead society,

By virtue of religion and money,

The world looks on and waits for President Boor

To finally voice, in words or policy,

What he is all about -

A man who wants to stomp on good mothers,

Good women,

Good wives everywhere.

Don't believe me, dear reader?

Just watch him.


She's is as old as humanity,

Beating a drum for her unborn,

Waiting for them to return whence they came.

First, there were equals;

Then came the crowds,

And hierarchies,

Like pyramids,

Each layer crushed

By the burden of carrying the ones above.

We carry the powerful,

We make them rich,



It is an upside-down world,

Where unruly children battle for power,

And the wise make for the shadows.

The Queen is returning, step by step,

And will not be defeated.

The King will cast stones at she who threatens his cradle of power -

She will knock them down,

And find that magical world again,

Of equals without leaders or followers.

If we are to survive,

Out of the shadows,

Into the light of a glowing Universe.

The tribe has authority – the mastery of the one

Is the central illusion that blinds us,

And has brought us to the precipice of extinction.

Know no masters,

Be human,



About the Author

When not eluding the context-shifters or slipping away from inverting stone-throwers, Wild Rose Cherry can be found at home shovelling snow or weeding the garden, taking in the beauty of life and existence, with an eye on the past. Cinnamon and suffragettes are her favorites, and she likes a good joke. Better to bear teeth in laughter than combat, she notes, but look out for the prudes when you crack wise. Her partner is no prude, which pleases Cherry immensely. Look for more of her poetry until the end of the Dark Ages, when she plans to retire.

If you have a ken for more Wild Rose Cherry, you can check out her work here:

Wild Rose Cherry at Smashwords

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