Behold! I Send You Out As Wolves Among Sheep... Poem by Samael Wolf

The mind, the core of ones being
some use it well, others neglect it
they are called sheeple
they bleet and baa, grazing in their
banal little worlds, finding distain
with those that arent like them,
Ahh, but some may look like them
but they are like you and I,
lovely Wolves, intelligent and oh so hungry
They wait with watchful patience,
not really interested in the bleetings of idiots
but determined to aquire their prey
Beautiful vibrant minds that see the real meaning
of everything around them, they wait for their time
Their time of revolution, evolution.
The sheeple are content to stare blankly at anything
that takes their minds off the emptyness of their lives,
their vacuous religions and that faux thing they call 'love'.
They may pray to some unseen deity, but their real gods
color is green, the one they would die for, and do daily.
Pathetic simpletons with no purpose other than to line the
pockets of very wealthy Wolves, slaves to almighty
corporate creed, it is here that I praise it, for they use the
sheeple and toss their carcasses to and fro like empty
candy wrappers.

Blessed be ours, The Wolves.