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................

REAL MUSIC

Real dope rappers
Who write good flows
Not those whackers
Whose IQ ‘s low

Real emcees
Not them fake gees
Whose violence fancy life they pretend to live
In their video scene
Make them obscene

Rap shouldn’t be getting kids trapped
In a ****** life
Imagining wrongly outside the map
Now most of these kids had swapped
Their real life with that rap-gee crap
Things need to be done asap
Before things get out of bound
Before these kids gets out of hand

Rapping should be about feeling
Happening and politicking
And how we take beating
From murderous policing
*
Rap should be a stencil
Unfading, unlike pencil
It should be a language, fundamental
That boots the mental
Coz rap music is special

Rap should be words arranged in rhythmic verse
To fit the beat and bass
Where the preceding rhymes
Fit the proceeding lines

Rap could be a war song
Against gunmen and war-thugs
To stop their inhumane wrongs
Like killing youngs’ and dropping bombs

Rap could be a love song
Song that keeps our vibe on
And become more strong

Rap could be an ornament
To our chameleon-like president
And those in the parliament
And other less-sensible personnel
In the government

Rap should be an inspiration
That helps you find solution
To war and destitution
And impact its contribution
as medication
To a mind filled with gruesome

Rap should be a resolution
To peace and revolution
Not the type that cause body and soul pollution

Rap should be about feeling
Not *** and drug preaching
Not fake-life flaunting
That leave the young heart bleeding

Rappers should be evolver
Logical thinker
Intellect ******
Who don’t just wear blinkers
They’re problem solvers

Realest cyphers
I’m talking real rap gods
Whose song do not preach hate
Whose line will all relate

How about those with silly way
Who’s supposed to be in jail
Coz their rhythmic way
And their wordplay
Preaches stray
And could derange the brain
Of the kids to decay

Let’s talk euphorism
Rappers whose rhythmism
Somewhat lacks euphemism
Whose art of lyricism
And rhyme algorithm
Lacks aphorism

I’m talking wu-tang pal
Not YMCMB clan
Whose art lack style
I’m talking 2pac
Whose rap never past

What about the music tycoon
Who make the world roam
Whose song gives the heart relief
And gives a warming beat
To a wandering lost soul

Real poetic wordsmith
Whose every word spit
Has a taste of God in it
And could make the world spin

But when rappers start displaying
An art that’s straying
And still gets to be known
That’s got to show
That they’ve bargain their soul
For fame, a chance to glow
Coz they’re rhythmic style is low
So, for them to blow
They’ve got to sold
Their body, heart and soul in whole

But rappers these day
Are just insane
Their lust for fame
Outlived their love for the game

Well I guess They got Kanye,
I suppose They’ll get me too one day,
and I can try but can’t get away,
because They get everyone eventually,

hundred years ago we were all playing flutes,
we’re all guilty as charged even without proved,
and then we player ourselves that’s the truth,
because those in control have nothing to prove,

They pull up the trains and tell us to move,
get to your job gotta quote to fill,
these politicking capitalist are making me sick,
and maybe I’m one too and that’s why I feel ill,

but I’m better than that getting better in fact,
and that’s why my cup overrunneth when filled,

to the brim ballin’ all in,
swimming in sin still blessed as Mary The ******,

first programmed device was invented in Baghdad,
but we’re all caught up in this narcissistic sentiments,
we’re in The Greatest Time in Human History,
and all you can think is the narcissistic thought that “I’m sad”,

Yeah we’re all sad,
and that’s our own fault,
got me mad as a cam in Baghdad,
which I guess was the results,
of being over optimistic with bad math,
and being on the war path with a cult,

but what’s they cult called,
does it even have a name,
and how’d it get Kanye,
and what’s it gotta do with J?

Well I guess They got Kanye,
I suppose They’ll get me too one day,
and I can try but can’t get away,
because They get everyone eventually…

∆ LaLux ∆

Too many whys
Running through my mind

Like why o why
Do we live our life
Searching for things that never wanted to be found

Why do we shy....
away from our real purpose in this life

Why oh why
do our Politicians lie
Telling us things will be fine
beguiling us with few cups of rice
Acting like we the people blind

How oh how, do they expect us to thrive
When the only thing they subsidised....
is our faces filled with joyful smiles

Why do they connive
to bring sufferings to our lives
with the politicking vice they devise

Why do fathers die
Living their kids orphaned

Where are the real mothers and Wives
When wishy-washy women keep tiktoking their pride.

Why wont our elders understand
That the life we in now is different from the past

Why oh why
Is it so hard to find
Someone to keep close to our heart
When all they do is t mess up our mind

Oh why Oh why
Do our youth put on guise
guise of lies' just because they want to survive

Why do our boys sell their soul all for that luxury life.
why do our girls dress bare; to impress and advertise.

Why do our clerics keep weponising our mind
Building partition in the name of the most high

Why do those terrorist thinks they're doing it right
When clearly tis not jihad

Why oh why
Won't God listen to our doleful cries
Forgive our past; filled with sins and crimes
Guide our leaders right....
and liberate us from the powers that victimise our lives.

From the south to the North, from the West to the East

we built hardy galleons that sailed us over the seven seas

from our sacred little Island we ruled the waves to feast

we raided and plundered and did it all with guile and ease

where that failed we routed red flowing blood from the beasts



Our power speaks from blazing guns merciless true and fast

give us your treasures your women or very soon you decease

give us your history and traditions and all things good and vast

and we will leave you in a mess and and give you a killer disease



We smile thinly while confusing you and taking you from your past

put alien ideas in your hollowed out heads and rule you with decrees

divide and create discord and separate brothers into warring caste

will reign over you and we are politicking masters that do not appease



Our forked tongues twist with serpentine grace that leaves you aghast

our varied coloured eyes belies we are all soulless and don't hear please

our god is money and wealth and power and ******* unsurpassed

We set sail to ravage, destroy, divide, plunder and put you on your knees

Yea, politics is good
But now it's often abused
by those clueless old dudes
Whose ways are cruel
Cos' the style they choose
and the rule they shrewd
doesn't favour the youth
That's why I choose
to stay my cool
you can call me a fool
or a lifeless dude
I'll just sigh
And afterward... write
about the kinda sheople you are
Just like I am now
about the crazy old clown
who see it fit
to drag me in his filth-filled pit
of political ****
Well then, this is it...
Let me give you a bit...
of my poetic hit.

First; here is my question to you
Who are you?
A branded fool?
A nincompoop?
Or a new-age tool...?
for politicking dudes.

Alright ***
I already got the answer to that
Now, let me ask you this...

Who you be...?
To remotely think
That you can silence me
with your conning tricks

Wielding worthless words
With wrecked worsened world
slewing witty words
Spewing stink-filled spit
That smells like public pit

I don't dine with cocky crew
So, get off my track' ***
I can't deck with you
Cos' I don't roll with people
Who are mentally sheople
And if you refuse to be feeble
You'll get psychologically crippled
Cos where Wordsmith roll
is high like church steeple
far from your scope
and sacred from your evil