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Yenson Aug 2018
But why do they do all this, I asked, shaking my head pitifully.
Its unimaginable  the amount of time and efforts they expend,
over nothing. Not to mention having the inclinations for such
absurdities!.

She leaned in closer and whispered conspiratorially as she puts
down her glass, while she waved at me to lean in closer too.

Her cute lips barely moved as she whispered theatrically,
" this is a secret, don't quote me."
I nodded.

" POST TRUTH" she uttered, " It's all post truth, they have put
all their people in a post truth world and they all live in post truth now"

"Do you know what Post truth means?" she asked, her eyes glaring inquiringly in a straight gaze at mine.

"Yes I do I replied, basically its, ‘relating to or denoting circumstances in which objective facts are less influential in shaping public opinion than appeals to emotion and personal belief’", I trotted out. Leaning back in my seat, I considered this, and what she had just shared.

My plight has been Orwellian, from the very start, but I honestly wouldn't have believed people would be so gullible in this day and age. But then who was it that said " No man ever went broke overestimating the ignorance of the public".

Internally I processed things again, Welfare spounging Crooks burgled me, I gave them a piece of my mind, crooks call on their Socialist mates, who then launched an unjustified campaign of
slander, vilification, harassment, hounding, intimidation, ruining
my marriage, career, reputation and my health. I, the victim of a fowl crime becomes the villain and the criminals gentrified working class heroes.

It all seem implausible in Modern Britain, this day and age, yet it's all true.

My silence prompted her, " I don't like it myself and you already know how I feel about them, but..... and she shrugged her slim
shoulders and the look of sadness and resignation in her eyes says
it all. I felt sorry for her, only God knows the leverage, inducement,
threats or dirt at play for her cooperation, given the nature of the ***** politicking that's been playing all these while
and the  results of former experiences. Poor thing, I mused,
knowing her private life was at stake now..

In Post truth terms, you are a rich arrogant privileged and greedy chauvinistic parasite who deserve all you're getting and more. 
Their propaganda machine is devious and slick. 

I couldn't help acknowledging the disingenuous politicking at
play here by our Red comrades, the nasty racial undertones of my
plight had been white-washed, the theft of my hard earned possessions is bye the bye, the bullying and intimidation by the
neighbouring criminals and their subsequent gangstalking covered up. now, what remains is hapless me, alone, unsupported and just the heinous distortions, the misinformation, exaggerations, slander and disinformation exists, and all these are falling into receptive ears by the bucketloads. The general public's moral compass has been twisted and befuddled if not totally obliterated.  

I sat in silence and for a short while, we both avoided eye contact,
finally we looked at each other. She knew I had got the picture and
for a second I saw sorrow in her eyes. Then it was gone, you could
almost glimpse this was a sentiment she wasn't allowed.

I had seen that look before from quite a number of others, nobody dares act against the wave, nobody wants to be considered a traitor
or a sympathiser.

I tried lifting the mood and changed the topic, we made chit-chat
and found laughter in some places, we finished our drinks and left.

On the street walking I once again felt sorry for her and made a
conscious decision not to see her again. I was a persona non gratia
now, and it's not healthy being my friend. Friends are compromised, debriefed and used as baits or informers. I have become a dangerous person to know and the truth has been murdered, cut into little pieces and then incinerated into ashes.

They had perhaps forgotten that TRUTH lives forever, the truth
is the TRUTH and remains the TRUTH, no matter what you do to it.

FOR NOW HOWEVER WE HAVE POST TRUTH, HOW LONG THAT WILL LIVE FOR?
Your guess is as good as mine!

Goodbye dear friend, I watched her walk away, there was an unusual slowness in her steps and she looked back at me just as I was turning away, I did not turn to look back at her again,

I knew I will not be seeing her again................
Post-truth politics (also called post-factual politics and post-reality politics) is a political culture in which debate is framed largely by appeals to emotion disconnected from the details of policy, and by the repeated assertion of talking points to which factual rebuttals are ignored.
‎History · ‎Summary of the truth is contained in the poem - WHERE IS JUSTICE on this site..·
ryn Apr 2016
Right now, my mind...
Is the proverbial popcorn machine.

Every little thing that bothers me is
likened to a kernel.
And to make popcorn, you need lots...
Bucketloads of kernels.

Dump them all in the machine.
Let them whirl.
They sit layered on top of each other
undisturbed,
on the hot bed until...
The spindly metal arms begin to rotate...
Whose sole purpose is to agitate.

Buttered with debilitating insecurities.
Sprinkled with irrational fears.
Heated with erratic temperament.

And here come the arms again.
Rotating,
churning,
inciting.

No one knows when the kernels
are going to cave and rupture.

Then...
"Pop!" would go one.
Then another...
And another...
Soon they would all start to explode.
When that happens,
I do too.

••••••••••••••••••••••
Addendum
•••••••••••••••••••••­•

I love popcorn.
And I don't like to share.
Espresso manic Jul 2019
I thought the storm had passed
and that wreckage had been avoided.
Against the current my whole pirate life,
uncaring of the opinions of others,
and focus on the rowing at hand.

The gray and thrilling sky
make the dark sea water seem ferocious.
The risk of lightning had never crossed my mind
before tonight when I suddenly realized I was alone
on a boat in the sea
and in the middle of a storm.

I steer with my left
and dump bucketloads of water with my other hand.
Focused on damage control
and ignorant to the the storm's prognosis
whilst my wooden mind struggles to stay afloat.

Row forth and onward.
This storm too shall pass,
and I'll come out stronger.
rough night
this is what I dreamt before I fell asleep
Especially experiencing onset dehydration,
this opinion shared by former consumer,
he quaffed truckloads sugary and sports drinks
found mine once sculpted baby boomer body
undergoing gender reorientation, particularly
nondescript ******* incrementally found

busting (rivaling ******* bunny chest)
necessitated this garden variety
NON GMO gluten free husband
"papa," an endearment
addressed by the missus
puzzled when her

brassieres went missing
loathe to believe what sounded
like **** and bull story
embarrassed, yet finally
relented into pestiferous
inquisitiveness hen pecking wife,

she stood agape, after I dare bare
unclothed upper torso revealed
floppy, limp biscuit sagging
sorry excuse for *****
hence necessitating yours truly
to resort as partial crossdresser,

yet never foreseeing
anatomical morphology transforming
(analogous to mushroom popping up
following bucketloads of rain)
thus went cold turkey,
(as attested by this gobbledygook)

to swear off high caloric non nutritious
popular beverages
(generating bajillions dollars),
and additionally
forced non chipper infowar
i.e. internal three ring circuits

uncivil insurrection
(less than seven years ago)
as weeks elapsed months
(this unplanned resolution
dated early two thousand nineteen),

discarded over the shoulder boulder holder
in tandem with exercise
few times per week
plying twenty pound dumbbells
a pronounced reduction
saved me big bucks
undergoing cosmetic surgery!
anesthetized courtesy central air

analogous to gulping down
a tall glass of ice cold water,
which equals ultimate thirst quencher,
especially for those
experiencing onset dehydration,
the following poetic opinion/editorial  
shared by yours truly, a former consumer
who quaffed truckloads sugary and sports drinks
found mine once sculpted baby boomer body
undergoing gender reorientation, particularly
nondescript ******* incrementally found

busting (rivaling ******* bunny chest)
necessitated this garden variety
NON GMO gluten free husband
"papa," an endearment
addressed by the missus
puzzled when her
brassieres went missing
loathe to believe what sounded
like **** and bull story
embarrassed, yet finally
relented into pestiferous

inquisitiveness hen pecking wife,
she stood agape, after I dare bare
unclothed upper torso revealed
floppy, limp biscuit sagging
sorry excuse for *****
hence necessitating yours truly
to resort as partial crossdresser,
yet never foreseeing
anatomical morphology transforming
(analogous to mushroom popping up
following bucketloads of rain)

thus went cold turkey,
(as attested by this gobbledygook)
to swear off high caloric non nutritious
popular beverages
(generating bajillions dollars),
and additionally forced non chipper infowar
i.e. internal three ring circuits
uncivil insurrection
(a tad more'n eighteen months ago)
as weeks elapsed months
(this unplanned resolution

dated June seventeenth
two thousand twenty two),
discarded over the shoulder boulder holder
in tandem with exercise
few times per week
alternating plying twenty pound dumbbells
and exercising viz pedaling
(quasi bicycle) machine
a pronounced reduction
saved me big bucks
undergoing cosmetic (Liposuction) surgery!

— The End —