A Song of Haters:

Haters.

There are people who are haters.

And they live in hellish craters.

And they say to well-wishing crusaders:

You are space invaders!

And these people. They are traitors.

Bent on power and position.

And they herd the sheep towards slaughter

Just to satiate their blind ambition.

And these people, who are haters.

They are all so Great Equators.

Who say who are you to judge us?

How is it you can begrudge us?

You are just as meek and selfish

As the most self-seeking shellfish.

And your pretense towards well wishing

Is just meant to hide your true ambition.

As though any glimpse of light

Stood just as evidence for dark.

And as though all sort of wrong and right

Are only meant to leave a mark.

These people who are haters.

Never disembark from their hell holes.

But only spew their hate and

In the darkness say:

Don’t judge our souls!

And some haters come around

And come upon a realisation.

And they see that they’re profoundly flawed

And they are so driven.

To be near to God and then the haters

Beg to be forgiven.

And their victims would deliver them

And give them what it takes.

Their infractions do not hinder them;

They’ve learned from their mistakes.

And so all of the apologies

That I’ve accrued over the years.

All add to my philosophy

So I can go on without fear.

And do not brood on the hypocrisy

Of trained manipulators.

Who invade my space and jade this place.

I do not fear to face the haters.

They try to persuade me

That I see within them my own cunning.

Then they all evade me

And I only find it stunning.

That the loving people never made me

Feel within this way.

So what do they have to say to me?

What more is there to say?

They all warn me that one day I will

See error in my ways.

But they who tell me of this terror

Are the ones who wreak such terror on my days.

And if half of them wake up and they

Proclaim the errors of their past.

Then can’t I just as safely say

The other half won’t ever last?

And even if they never wake up

In the confines of this life.

I won’t apologise to them

Nor take them up on all the strife

They have to offer. Why must good men suffer

For the swine?

They Chose to live this sort of life.

And I chose the Divine.

So when judgement comes I know right now

As much as ever I had known

That all those haters had been in the wrong

Who had come to atone.

That I won’t be the one to say

Forgive me, all you haters.

But it will be those who hurt me.

Though it may happen much later.

And then once they have admitted it

Whom will I answer to?

I know what is owed to me

And just as well, what’s due

To you.

So do not think that due to you

I will lose sleep. Hiding within a crater.

Like a sacrificial sheep.

In the slaughterhouse of haters.

(And may be I see it now.

Though they shall only see it later.

But inside they know it anyhow.

So I say to equators:

I have learned from their mistakes.

And I am totally at peace.

And I won’t suffer for their sakes.

Nor buffer them much longer in my fleece.)

Dm.A.A.