A great flock has this shepherd.
A marvellous one has he.
his flock so white and grand,
What more to life can there be?
he has such a beautiful flock,
So fluffy, so pleasant and fair;
But, what’s that over there? Some sheep astray?
Oh, how bad for this shepherd unaware.

Everything seems fine,
All is looking well.
But the lesser sheep are wandering,
Vulnerable to the wolf of hell.
How sad to see the smaller sheep in trouble,
While pampering (goes on) for the fatter majority.
What is wrong? Does he not care?
Maybe he truly doesn’t see.

As the shepherd pets the fatter sheep,
he smiles, “i am blessed beyond belief.
my flock is wonderfully plump.
i am in total relief.
All is well in this flock of mine;
Everything is silky smooth.
my flock seems grand and white.
(Although, we never move).”

“But, where is our leader?” the lesser sheep cry.
Aren’t all the sheep for him to care?
The greater sheep have him distracted;
Oh, poor shepherd unaware.
What’s the root of the problem, you ask?
Why does the shepherd sleep?
Because this shepherd may know his flock,
But he doesn’t know his sheep.

—
efrain gomez, june 1999
(originally written under the pen name of Ian Mertzegoff. I know, it’s weird, don’t ask.)
a reference: Proverbs 27:23-24 

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I was about 17 when I wrote this poem, I was about to graduate high school. I don’t know what officially constitutes as a poem, but I’ve always written these types of assemblies of words. “Poem” seems to be the only word appropriate ;D