"Fall of Satan" by Gustave Dor‘The Devil’s New Mission’ and Other Poetry by Troy Camplin The Society July 28, 2017 Culture, Humor, Poetry 3 Comments The Devil’s New Mission The Devil went to every single school Across America to find a Faust— But no one wanted knowledge. Each dim fool Stared at a phone—the Devil could not roust A one to lust for power, wisdom, art— None could be tempted for none had a heart. The Devil went back down to Hell and spoke To all his demons—Pandemonium Gathered around and silence finally broke. “I searched around America—I come With nothing for a one of you to do— You can’t corrupt the ignorant. It’s true. “You can’t tempt anyone who will not care, Who neither love nor hate their lives, are loathe To value anything, feel no despair, So ignorant they think the poet’s “Goethe,” Assuming they have even heard of him— Why put out any light that glows so dim?” The Devil left them, went to Heaven. God Spoke, “Lucifer, what brings you here? A soul You want to tempt?” The Devil gave a nod And said, “I wish. But I can’t meet my goal. There’s no one there to take a dare. They stare As screens, indifferent, without a care. “They shrug their shoulders over everything— They’re natural nihilists who at their best Discourage greatness before it can spring To life—so lazy they must always rest From never doing anything. A nation Who cannot even rise up to temptation.” “There’s greatness still in Asia, Africa” God said. “These peoples rise, and with them great And awe-inspiring men. America Is slumping, slouching—there’s no debate That they’re as dead as Europe. Do move on. Your Western opportunities are gone.” The Devil shook his head. “I know you’re right. I’ve gotten used to tempting in the West. To wrestle with a Faust is my delight, But now it’s time to take on all the rest.” “I think you’ll find the rest a worthy foe,” God said,” So now, my adversary, go.” To the Demons Our Master asked for me to write this note That we should concentrate on those who gloat That they are wiser than all men and so Deserve to lord it over others. Grow Their power, let them feed the envious And fill their bellies with that poison puss So they will gladly give their powers over While cursing what would feed the divine clover. We must empower parasites who feed The envious—together they’ll indeed Destroy the good that grows on Earth. A plus If you convince them hate is virtuous, So long as envy is the driver. Hate Is always what we aim to make—debate Replaced by accusations and the lie Each honest disagreement would deny You of your dignity, your right to what You’ve chosen to believe is true. The cut Of challenge we’ll make look so deep, they’ll fear The slightest disagreement—they’ll give ear To none who would correct what’s wrong in life — Or even little things—they’ll feel such strife At any challenge, they’ll demand that all, Including they themselves, be made to fall In line with those they deep their betters. Ditch Descending on the pastors, priests—no, switch To lifting demagogues who preach that sin Is virtue, theft is giving—all to win A vote. Yes, do take note that power grants Us ease in what we do. Prudes drop their pants In lust when power comes their way. Let’s trust That power does corrupt, that all men lust For power to corrupt their souls to Hell And we will surely see our numbers swell. Just have our preachers preach that coveting Is virtue, wealth is stolen—that will bring The world to us, and Hell will dwell on Earth. Persuade men that a gang of thieves is worth Their love and worship—men of demon stock Should be considered as the solid rock On which society should build itself. Now, do not think that we are going to shelf The great reforms we made with Screwtape. No! Those petty things are genius! Although slow, The little things will eat away with time — We do not have to concentrate on crime To lure a person far from God. We tease And make it so there’s nothing that can please, No matter how good they may have it. Lust For more and covet, envy, lose all trust, And slowly break the bonds that make men good — Help them destroy their culture, neighborhood, Society by making them mistake These things for government—for goodness’ sake! — It is pathetic how these can Go wrong, be led astray since time began For them. I think with this we found a god For them—a god of men to whom they’ll nod And bow before. They’ll think they have a Father — They will—who rapes then treats them as a bother. Do this and it’s our Master you’ll most please. Sincerely yours, sirs, Mephistopheles. Troy Camplin is a freelance writer and writing consultant. He is the author of “Diaphysics,” an interdisciplinary work on systems philosophy, and “Hear the Screams of the Butterfly,” a novella; other projects include the application of F.A. Hayek’s spontaneous order theory to ethics, the arts, and literature. His play, “Almost Ithacad,” won the PIA Award from the Cyberfest at Dallas Hub Theater. He blogs at zatavu.blogspot.com. Related Post ‘Sing Me Not’ by Oliver Mort Goddess, sing me not, that barbaric yawp of man’s puny sorrows. He wants to swap his countless ills, not go down to Hades. The dogs and vultures wa... Tell the world:FacebookTwitterTumblrPinterestRedditLinkedInEmail 3 Responses B. S. Eliud Acrewe July 28, 2017 The C. S. Lewis vantage point with the intertwining of Go’th’ is almost Byronic. I wonder, though, about the greatness still in Africa and Asia, as their inhabitants seem to be fleeing those continents for Europe and America as fast as they can. Reply Father Richard Libby July 30, 2017 Well done, Mr. Camplin. Reply David Hollywood August 4, 2017 Very apt sentiments for these times. Thank you. Reply Leave a Reply Cancel Reply Your email address will not be published.CommentName* Email* Website Notify me of follow-up comments by email. Notify me of new posts by email.