A Revolutionary Poem by Ernesto Barca

Why is it that we not live but do?
To think when heeded,
To speak when needed,
To act on instruction, permission
or reward,
Like Nietzschean sheep to shepherds' flock,
The siren hearts entrap,
Minds in daze,
With silky words and floral praise,
For those whom a rose-skin rag now raise,
Fanning from a tall spear proud
Over dazzled crowds enchanting loud
By easy word and oily tongue
Meek lambs they all just bleat the song,

For those that follow dare not heed
The voice of he who plants the seed
With sparrows' chirps or lions' roars
The swelling of the heart implores
That his voice rise higher and above,
That fateful verse your sheep so love
That fills their belly with fire and pride
With mind and reason, cast aside.

All they who bask in glory's flame
They shall be known, each by name
For history shall forever shame
Those sheep who shuffle on the plain.