A Modern Classical Poem on Psalm 73:6 with Contemporary Examples)

Dear Reader,

From the Poet —

I write these lines not in anger, but in honest wonder, much like Asaph of old. I too have felt my feet slip when I saw the arrogant flourish — their polished feeds, their untouchable empires, their easy smiles while others bleed. The influencers, the CEOs, the activist machines that brand and cancel with clinical precision — they wear pride like designer gold and violence like a tailored suit.

Yet Psalm 73 is not merely a complaint; it is a pilgrimage. It leads us from the screen’s green glow of envy, through the painful sanctuary of truth, and finally into the steady hand of God.

He has the will to stand up for Biblical truth — that rare soul who refuses the chain and rejects the cloak. He speaks when it costs him followers. He refuses the easy donation or the trending hashtag. He chooses Scripture over applause, even when the mob turns its hate-map upon him. In a world that rewards the proud and silences the faithful, such a man is a living rebuke to the wicked’s temporary throne.

My prayer in crafting this poem is simple: that you would see the chains for what they are — glittering, heavy, and temporary — and choose instead the only portion that never rusts. May God raise up many more who have the will to stand.

If these verses sting, let them sting with hope. The same God who steadied Asaph steadies us. The proud will one day stand exposed before truth; the faithful will rise clothed in something far better.

Read slowly. Reflect deeply. And may your heart find its forever home in the One who outlasts every trending throne.

With quiet confidence,

The Poet

Psalm 73 (KJV) – Complete Relevant Verses

1 Truly God is good to Israel, even to such as are of a clean heart.

2 But as for me, my feet were almost gone; my steps had well nigh slipped.

3 For I was envious at the foolish, when I saw the prosperity of the wicked.

4 For there are no bands in their death: but their strength is firm.

5 They are not in trouble as other men; neither are they plagued like other men.

6 Therefore pride compasseth them about as a chain; violence covereth them as a garment.

7 Their eyes stand out with fatness: they have more than heart could wish.

8 They are corrupt, and speak wickedly concerning oppression: they speak loftily.

9 They set their mouth against the heavens, and their tongue walketh through the earth.

10 Therefore his people return hither: and waters of a full cup are wrung out to them.

11 And they say, How doth God know? and is there knowledge in the most High?

12 Behold, these are the ungodly, who prosper in the world; they increase in riches.

13 Verily I have cleansed my heart in vain, and washed my hands in innocency.

14 For all the day long have I been plagued, and chastened every morning.

15 If I say, I will speak thus; behold, I should offend against the generation of thy children.

16 When I thought to know this, it was too painful for me;

17 Until I went into the sanctuary of God; then understood I their end.

18 Surely thou didst set them in slippery places: thou castedst them down into destruction.

19 How are they brought into desolation, as in a moment! they are utterly consumed with terrors.

20 As a dream when one awaketh; so, O Lord, when thou awakest, thou shalt despise their image.

21 Thus my heart was grieved, and I was pricked in my reins.

22 So foolish was I, and ignorant: I was as a beast before thee.

23 Nevertheless I am continually with thee: thou hast holden me by my right hand.

24 Thou shalt guide me with thy counsel, and afterward receive me to glory.

25 Whom have I in heaven but thee? and there is none upon earth that I desire beside thee.

26 My flesh and my heart faileth: but God is the strength of my heart, and my portion for ever.

27 For, lo, they that are far from thee shall perish: thou hast destroyed all them that go a whoring from thee.

28 But it is good for me to draw near to God: I have put my trust in the Lord God, that I may declare all thy works.

The Poem

Pride loops around their necks like heavy gold,

a chain of verified checks and blue-tick fame.

The influencer sneers from her filtered throne,

counting the likes that shield her from all blame.

Violence they wear like a designer cloak,

tailored in boardrooms where contracts crush the poor.

The CEO smiles while factories choke,

laying off thousands, then yachting offshore.

The SPLC brands its targets with a seal,

a hate-map chain that glitters in the press;

they weaponize the word, then count the meal—

donations swell while reputations bleed to death.

They scroll their triumphs under neon skies—

the politician tweets his rival’s swift demise,

the online mob that cancels, doxxes, lies,

the activist empire built on fear’s sharp rise.

No crack in conscience mars their polished grin;

they feast on outrage, harvest every tear,

turn sorrow into headlines, loss to spin,

and call it justice when the losers disappear.

Yet some arise with holy fire and will —

they stand for truth when every comfort flees,

refuse the chain, reject the cloak of ill,

and plant their feet on what the Scripture sees.

Though branded, mocked, and stripped of worldly gain,

they hold the Word that never rusts or wanes.

Yet midnight comes. The algorithm stills.

The chain grows tight, the cloak begins to fray.

A quiet room, a failing heart that chills—

the empire’s lights go dark by break of day.

The righteous, stumbling, eyes green with old ache,

still finds a hand that steadies when they fall.

While pride lies rusting, violence stripped and fake,

the faithful rise, possessing all in all.