Tag Archives: truth

Don’t Preach Me

Don’t preach me religion
like there’s something you can prove;
being good at treading water
doesn’t mean you can move.

Don’t preach me politics
from the safety of the status quo;
saying that you understand
doesn’t mean that you know.

Don’t preach me civic pride
like I don’t know much history;
acting like the bigger gun
makes the purer pedigree.

Don’t tell me to walk the line
when you’re circling around me;
I don’t believe your anything
has much to do with me.

Don’t preach me right and wrong
like there’s some space in between;
words like that make useful weapons
if you don’t know what they mean.

Don’t preach me morality
like some gold we’re gonna find;
being sane in a crazy world
don’t mean you ain’t lost your mind.

Don’t tell me to seek the truth
when your mouth is full of lies;
I don’t believe your anything
just because it’s super-sized.

Don’t preach me religion;
don’t preach me politics.
Don’t hand me your medicine
when you’re the one who’s sick.

Don’t preach me your civic pride;
don’t preach your right and wrong.
Don’t preach your morality;
I’ve got my own damned song.

14 JUN 2017

What Good is That: rime royal

What is the Truth, that we spend all our days,
from birth to death, imagining so fair
that we invent, seek to avoid or praise
some vain ideal constructed from thin air,
that as illusion is beyond compare;
it casts religions merely to take form
that neither breathes nor catches fire to warm.

What is the Truth that holds no little lies,
that is just pure just “that” and so and so.
it disappears from view when cut to size,
each grain of sand both yes and no;
the smoke and mirrors added just for show.
Each leaf of truth is part seed of deceit;
the laurel leaf the child of base defeat.

What is the Truth? An absolute so still
it stagnates to allow algae to grow,
and in the rotting flesh of every kill
injects the future’s chance of overflow,
converting into yes each maybe so?
What good is that, some fickle god’s ennui,
to folks just trying to live, like you and me?

2 MAY 2017

Fit to Print: englyn unodle crwca

What’s fit to print is not news.
Our bitter, contrary views
are merely stuff we seek to use as new fuel;
like fools, we think we choose

to fight false with what is true,
wielding light that will burn through
the lies and mad bugaboo everywhere.
Now there’s a hopeful coup.

Hopeful, but not meant to be.
The real world seeks symmetry
and balance, but will not be rushed ahead
or led like a pony.

No, to make news in these days,
one must seek out different ways.
To prove a thing, you must amaze the wild mob;
a big job with no praise.

15 MAR 2017

Only Dream: alcaics

I cannot seek for infinite solutions,
spend endless hours harboring discussion,
just lurking in some thoughtful quagmire,
patiently awaiting final judgment.

How vain to think such artifice delivers
a useful purpose, meaningful salvation,
the precious jewel for reason’s scepter
dispensing revelation to the worthy.

What truth is there in this pointless anointing,
in crowning jesters, mindlessly applauding
like shameless harlots begging mercy,
expecting infinite and wise response?

The single answer, brilliantly revealing
a blinding beacon that dispels the darkness
is just a simple childlike wishing.
Redemption? Absolution? Only dreaming.

06 JAN 2017

When It Comes

When it comes,
the night don’t know no difference:
right and wrong
and that thin line in between.

In the dark,
you just watch for the lightning.
All the rest?
Doesn’t matter what you mean.

Simple truths
in the shadows become complicated:
black and white
both appear as shades of gray.

Choosing sides
beyond sight of the border,
where you find
it don’t matter anyway.

When it comes,
the night don’t know no difference:
You and me
and the darkness closing in.

In the end,
it becomes uncomplicated:
birth and death
and the sacred space within.

04 DEC 2015

All Possible: a poem of lies

The sky above is never blue,
the earth is flat as pie,
youth is eternal in the world
and villains never cry.
True riches can be hoarded,
real pain fades by and by,
belief is always justified
and nothing good will die.
The truth in this is plain to see:
so long as I am never me.

16 APR 2014

Not Right: a cinquain

A bit
of sound advice:
if you believe a thing
to be the truth, don’t keep it out
of sight.

For truth
can’t stand the dark.
It pines if locked up tight,
and sometimes will grow sick and die,
or fade

away;
and then, you’ve got
mere memory and dust.
How sad! That your foundation stone
should end

like that.
It’s truth, by god,
piece of eternity,
and you’ve just left it there to die.
Not right.

29 APR 2011