"untruth" poems
Side by side, their faces blurred,
The earl and countess lie in stone,
Their proper habits vaguely shown
As jointed armour, stiffened pleat,
And that faint hint of the absurd -
The little dogs under their feet.
Such plainness of the pre-baroque
Hardly involves the eye, until
It meets his left-hand gauntlet, still
Clasped empty in the other; and
One sees, with a sharp tender shock,
His hand withdrawn, holding her hand.
They would not think to lie so long.
Such faithfulness in effigy
Was just a detail friends would see:
A sculptor's sweet commissioned grace
Thrown off in helping to prolong
The Latin names around the base.
They would no guess how early in
Their supine stationary voyage
The air would change to soundless damage,
Turn the old tenantry away;
How soon succeeding eyes begin
To look, not read. Rigidly they
Persisted, linked, through lengths and breadths
Of time. Snow fell, undated. Light
Each summer thronged the grass. A bright
Litter of birdcalls strewed the same
Bone-littered ground. And up the paths
The endless altered people came,
Washing at their identity.
Now, helpless in the hollow of
An unarmorial age, a trough
Of smoke in slow suspended skeins
Above their scrap of history,
Only an attitude remains:
Time has transfigures them into
Untruth. The stone fidelity
They hardly meant has come to be
Their final blazon, and to prove
Our almost-instinct almost true:
What will survive of us is love.
8.8k
How could you say sorry,
Through shades of words hiding.
How could she forgive you,
And all the fears you bring.
Why she would give you one clue,
With all the tears of the untruth.
Look at this closely,
Beyond all that she can feel.
Tell her there's a place
Always as an empty space,
For life inside you to fill.
Apr 22, 2015
Apr 22, 2015 at 8:59 AM UTC
this morning I woke up to déjà vu
—I was here before and I knew you
you’re that guy who twists the truth
who secretly falls for me like I do
oh I just love how you’re always too close
yet too far away to make me had enough of
wait, did I just say that I’m in love with you?
this is bad and will hurt as **** but I know I do
but you will deny me, that’s so typical of you
since you’re the sly fox
and I’m just a girl who’s addicted to untruth
Feb 29, 2016
Feb 29, 2016 at 4:53 AM UTC
I never said I loved you, John:
Why will you tease me day by day,
And wax a weariness to think upon
With always "do" and "pray"?
You know I never loved you, John;
No fault of mine made me your toast:
Why will you haunt me with a face as wan
As shows an hour-old ghost?
I dare say Meg or Moll would take
Pity upon you, if you'd ask:
And pray don't remain single for my sake
Who can't perform that task.
I have no heart?--Perhaps I have not;
But then you're mad to take offence
That I don't give you what I have not got:
Use your own common sense.
Let bygones be bygones:
Don't call me false, who owed not to be true:
I'd rather answer "No" to fifty Johns
Than answer "Yes" to you.
Let's mar our pleasant days no more,
Song-birds of passage, days of youth:
Catch at today, forget the days before:
I'll wink at your untruth.
Let us strike hands as hearty friends;
No more, no less; and friendship's good:
Only don't keep in view ulterior ends,
And points not understood
In open treaty. Rise above
Quibbles and shuffling off and on:
Here's friendship for you if you like; but love,
No, thank you, John.
3.1k
In the hour of my distress,
When temptations me oppress,
And when I my sins confess,
Sweet Spirit, comfort me!
When I lie within my bed,
Sick in heart and sick in head,
And with doubts discomforted,
Sweet Spirit, comfort me!
When the house doth sigh and weep,
And the world is drown’d in sleep,
Yet mine eyes the watch do keep,
Sweet Spirit, comfort me!
When the passing bell doth toll,
And the Furies in a shoal
Come to fright a parting soul,
Sweet Spirit, comfort me!
When the tapers now burn blue,
And the comforters are few,
And that number more than true,
Sweet Spirit, comfort me!
When the priest his last hath pray’d,
And I nod to what is said,
‘Cause my speech is now decay’d,
Sweet Spirit, comfort me!
When, God knows, I’m toss’d about
Either with despair or doubt;
Yet before the glass be out,
Sweet Spirit, comfort me!
When the tempter me pursu’th
With the sins of all my youth,
And half damns me with untruth,
Sweet Spirit, comfort me!
When the flames and hellish cries
Fright mine ears and fright mine eyes,
And all terrors me surprise,
Sweet Spirit, comfort me!
When the Judgment is reveal’d,
And that open’d which was seal’d,
When to Thee I have appeal’d,
Sweet Spirit, comfort me!
3.1k
Making love
is the city of ruin.
The worst kind of fog
captures it,
a fog where the streetlights
are not pushing out
light
into the right places.
Light falls only on the glossy mercedes
and it's rims
full of hope and wealth.
The skyscrapers
reach the sky
and finger the underbelly
of an afterlife,
as if there is something to look
forward
to.
The buses
transport
souls
and
promise,
or seem too.
But this is all a lie,
the lights only create light,
darkness grows,
the skyscrapers touch the sky,
yes,
but they don't know a thing
about goodness,
and the buses are full
of
hopelessness.
But when we make love,
it is like
we are only looking for the good things
in the city
as we get robbed blind.
When I touch your belly button,
I can feel your heart in your stomach,
so low and so unwanting
that it dropped
to a place of digestion,
of eating what we had
and ******** it out.
It is ok to realize
this untruth
late in the game,
it is wrong to continue
when we know of the untruth,
and that is what we are doing,
that's why I hate
you
and still **** you.
I love the city,
in its ruinous returns
I keep fooling myself
into thinking
this is the best thing that's ever happened
to me.
Your ***** must be the greatest,
because I'll never leave
even when we call making love
a city of hope
when we ****
and it's a dystopia
of
destruction.
Apr 16, 2012
Apr 16, 2012 at 8:23 PM UTC
symptoms of anhedonia.
a triumvirate, perceived
Inanition& Inertia& Inaptitude:
they are ugly triplets who hide under leather
and self-loathing &stink of last night’s pinot
noir
from **** knows where.
their fingers, cigarette-stained and calloused,
reach into my prozac pillboxes
&crunch my anxiety (meds)
into fluoxetine powder and ivory between
their yellowing teeth.
I Do Not Cry When The
Sandman Knocks
For He Sits At midnight:the witching hour,whenthe
My Porch Bearing Sweet siblings curl up besides me to
Dreams &Sister Death, Whose Touch , ravage;
I’ve Long Wished For *they will not
leave me
untilthe
cloyingly sweet
perfume of Death
is scrubbed clean fromthe
pulse
point
of
my
wrists*
There is nothing There is nothing There is nothing There is nothing There is nothing for you here.
Nothing will bring me back. In three years time I’ll still be dead. My bed sheet is my shroud and Death holds my wrists in a vice grip. He still leads me below.
here is the untruth:
i am here,
Penelope at her loom,
waiting for a lost lover whom I know
will take ten years to come back to
my awaiting arms.
here is the untruth:
in three years time,
I’ll still be dead.
here is the truth:
nothing exists six feet under except:
hell
chalk dust
powdered calcium.
Jun 3, 2017
Jun 3, 2017 at 12:02 PM UTC
I opened up my eyes to the morning
Sunshine, as it blazed through the
Window panes. Basking in a moments surprise.
As though suddenly, the world had changed.
Darkness filtered with the sunlight's rays.
Everything glittered in the sparkling terrain-
like fairy dust had been sprinkled when at night
we lay. But as movement prevailed my body
the glint in the shine did fade.
As though all along I had been staring
At a facade. Untruth in the form of truth was it
Masked. Likewise the hatred could fool the eye
With smiles of laughter and packs of lies.
So was this life? Every morning was a lie to the night,
Hiding in the darkness, hoping to survive?
Or was it just me? Maybe my mind? Running in
Overdrive of hurt and confusion- longing for the past in which,
In which my soul was my solution.
Jan 8, 2015
Jan 8, 2015 at 5:25 PM UTC
Blue skies, city lights
in this broad planet
You can feel small,
and you'll never know why
Look at the mirror,
let out a pitiful sigh
Ask your reflection, "who am I?"
only to never hear a reply
You look away;
as silence pierces through your lungs,
you ask the person in front of you
if you were good
.
.
.
.
.
.
enough
"no," they said.
You shall yearn for things you cannot attain,
envy to bring thyself more excruciating pain,
tell one the untruth just like you do to, I.
Face the mirror,
find yourself,
and meet me in due time.
Apr 18, 2021
Apr 18, 2021 at 4:38 AM UTC
Wind,the agent of change,
you at first was far off and distant,
A constant drone of bees, not much!
they paid no heed to those rumblings,
Your power was counted
insignificant,they kept the curtain drawn,
Down, intact, trying to
keep you out of the house of darkness.they kept.
But the suppressed put
their ears close to the ground, listened,
Aware of your intent, they
patiently waited, watching your unhurried advance.
Giving talkative leaves ample chance
to speak their heart, first, tickling trees, caressing clouds,
You changed the speed,
rustling sound soon became persistent.
Shouting slogans, hand raised,
all the plants and trees expressed their anguish,
Insisted, a change, justice for mother nature,
stoppage of torture of , animals, birds and bees.
Wind, you act as an unswerving friend,
creating awareness , is your intent.
and fight the rot , naked profit motive, relentlessly,
by now every one knows the injustice,
festering fiercely in the core.
You drive the clouds and spin them about,
rain by and by gains strength
It pours now in torrents, all untruth
comes out in the open, face the ire,
the true power of the protests, eye of the storm.
Wind, you boom, give a clarion call to clean,
revenge all the injustices, perpetrated til now.
Apr 8, 2016
Apr 8, 2016 at 8:04 AM UTC
The Miss-Director was beaming with pride
as he came to escort me inside.
"Come along, these are perilous times,
there is much ugly truth we must hide."
"Herr Goebbels was our school's inspiration.
Joe McCarthy taught here till he died.
Charlie Rangel is among our directors.
Our Grads over nations preside."
"We recruit each years class from young children
who display a disdain for the truth."
"We start with a class on tall stories,
progressing to fibs and untruths."
"By the time they are teens they are ready
to leave little white lies behind."
"They engage in deceit and deception.
These skills help them rob people blind."
"With our Grad course in prevarication
They misdirect and deflect with the great."
"Obama was born in Hawaii,
his foes say he was birthed out of state."
"When Bill Clinton was caught in that perjury
I nearly went out of my mind."
"If only he'd paid more attention in Class
and less to some coed's behind."
We had come to a massive rotunda
The Pantheon of all untruth.
Holograms of Stalin and Churchill
told whoppers in an endless loop.
There were quotes from
the World's Great Religions
inscribed on the sides of the wall.
A Left wing devoted to Lenin.
A right wing like a Munich beer hall.
" The sheeple must never be told
that a place like this even exists."
" You can count on me not to inform them."
I said, without moving my lips.
Jun 14, 2012
Jun 14, 2012 at 8:57 AM UTC
every belief should begin as a seed of disbelief
buried in the soil of doubt
nourished by the incessant rain of queries
that strengthen
and cause the flower to bloom or the fruit to ripen
*ॐ असतो मा सद्गमय ।
तमसो मा ज्योतिर्गमय ।
मृत्योर्मा अमृतं गमय ।
ॐ शान्तिः शान्तिः शान्तिः ॥*
every positive starts off as an embryo of negativity
only the knowledge of the gloom
enhances the wisdom of luminosity
conjoined twins
joined at the hip
cynicism is the parent of change for the better
provided of course
the labour pain is allowed to occur!
*Om, Lead us from Untruth to Truth,
from Darkness to Light,
from Death to Immortality
Om Peace, Peace, Peace.*
- Vijayalakshmi Harish
28.10.2012
Copyright © Vijayalakshmi Harish
Oct 28, 2012
Oct 28, 2012 at 12:28 PM UTC
I am a golden being king
of all beasts sent by God,
to keep on searching for
all of truth.
Shinning fleeces glazing, almost
lazy, soaking up the sun.
My eyes held above the crowd
I sit back looking and looking.
Golden manes flowing with winds
keep on blowing. Yellow flames
keep on bellowing as the truth
keeps on coming.
I hear the sound of armies fleeing
as all my openness becomes
my strength.
My life an open book spreading
miles across facebook nothing
hidden all in view.
My honesty more brazen and bolder
than the Roman Empire.
As the world steps back I am unfolding
12 foot tall keep on growing.
Golden nuggets once hidden
now shinning.
I rattle the enemy to the core with
my dark ROAR the recesses of my
being turning over like an engine.
As there is not a part of my being
I have not seen all shadows disappear
with my seeing.
I turn the world upside down inside out
as all dark hidden corners become
white shinning teeth.
Ferociously I tackle the world
with a fearless truth.
Roaring into battle my open heart
devours all lies and untruth.
Let us charge
let us charge
Let the
fires burn
fires burn
As all is unified in this battle
for the streams of Gold and silver
For with no sacrifice there can be
nothing gained.
Driven forward and lifted up an
honor deep inside carries us
into battle.
So tonight my friend take me on
let us fight
be my brother
For now is a good time to die.
For the truth shall **** us all
but in the same way save us.
So my friend my brother
let us fight together
as we serve the golden King
Wear his crest upon our chest.
As all men fall within the limits
of their own lies let us hold the flag
of truth above us.
Let us die in the lies we beat to the
ground to be reborn within the truth
we hold above our head.
Living life with the glorious
King of beasts
the Golden Lion King.
Holding truth above our
own being we may proudly
bring love and dignity
to all of GODS Kingdom.
As all order is maintained
while he sits upon his throne.
Dec 14, 2016
Dec 14, 2016 at 5:03 PM UTC
Please
Take my hand
I'm reaching out
For you
Don't fall into
The pain today
I'm reaching out
To save you
From the
Hate
Don't let your spirit
Get ****** into
The burdens
The sickness
Unnecessary pain
The ugly untruth's
The suffering
The Disdain
This is
A confined
Self loathing
State of mind
Look outside yourself
Push through the fog
Part the dark
Distasteful
Smog
We can rise together
There is no need
To feed your doubt
You can live without
Holding onto the grief
Hold on to me
I want to fly
I want to kiss
The sky
With
You
I will lift you up
Take you on a ride
Further from your saddest self
High above your lack of faith
Surround you with your greatest health
No hesitation, no disbelief
Hold your head up
Now just breathe
Breathe
Breathe
Can you feel me?
That's better
I can sense you
Coming through
Your natural beautiful being
Laughing, humming, singing
Bringing flowers
To yourself
See...
Hold on as we soar
I will teach you how
To love what lives inside
The gorgeous beating
Gifts you hide
Out of the quicksand
Into alive
Learning to prevail
Not just survive
There is no need
To feed your doubt
You can live without
Holding onto the grief
Hold on to me
I want to fly
I want to kiss
The sky
With
You
There was a time
When it may have seemed right
To hold onto the things
At night
That would remind you
Of how you stepped into
The place where you
Are now
The time has come
To let this go
Give it away
Bury it in the ground
Throw it into the snow
Burn it by the sea
Come with me
Place the memory
In a stone
You don't have to be alone
Now take the rock and insert
The energy of your pain and hurt
Find a field, a body of water
A stream
Say a prayer
Picture your dream
Like the feeling that makes you believe
Everything will be okay
Get ready
Say what you have to say
Take a deep breath pretty please
It's time now to release
With your stone
In your hand
Pull your arm back
Take command
And send it high
Into the sky
Out into the open
It's time to say goodbye
Hurl the past away
The bitterness
The agony
The sour distress
Make yourself free
Come with me
Please
Take my hand
I'm reaching out
For you
Don't fall into
The pain today
I'm reaching out
To save you
From the
Hate
You carry me
I carry you
When burdens pain
You walk with me
I walk with you
Along the beach
Through life's terrain
If tears should fall
Just as the rain
I'll soothe your spirit
Comfort away
All of the guilt
Is that okay?
When you want to give up
I will inspire you to try
If your spirit feels broken
I will help you make it right
You comfort my heart, my head,
My weary stride
The less I need
The more I have
With you I feel
All worry
Fall and slide
Elsewhere
It's easy to
Subside
When you
Are there
Hold on as we soar
I will teach you how
To love what lives inside
The gorgeous beating
Gifts you hide
Out of the quicksand
Into alive
Learning to prevail
Not just survive
Open your door
Knock Knock
Who's there?
Tender loving
Arms that
Care
Feel my light
Feel my love
Breathe it in
It's everywhere
Just like your
Love that lives inside
The gorgeous beating
Gifts you hide
Out of the
Quicksand
Into alive
© tHE tERRY tREE
Dec 2, 2014
Dec 2, 2014 at 12:48 PM UTC
Life is for living, they say.
But,
Pivoted around ego recognition endless ways.
We,
Churn out to be everyone but oneself
In denial untruth
We find a playmate
"Immersed in pretense"
Our loved game,we play.
"Relish" we say in unison,
"A rule"of the game.
Fooled into believing
There is no such thing as "Doomsday"
Mar 3, 2015
Mar 3, 2015 at 12:16 PM UTC
Darkness that fills the mind
Filling the eye of the beholder
A dessert path that is deserted by the truth but filled with lies
We're lies only the serpents of untruth and illusions
Leading towards the waters of faith and strength
But possible loss and pain
All dependent on the Storm and the waves
Where land meets sky but the sky is free
Can one truly see
Land is nature but life itself is home
Home is acceptance of life
Sun turning to moon is epicenter of change
To become something new
Altering what once was
To coexist with all that surrounds
To be a part of all
To accept all that is
To deny nothing
To be everything
Sep 24, 2021
Sep 24, 2021 at 1:20 PM UTC
Whispering chants
and waving fingers
conjuring spirits
of all that lingers
Raising the ghouls
to see the future
Disembodied figures swell
in ghastly caricature
A promise is whispered
The living is lead
to a single untruth
told by the dead
Jan 23, 2012
Jan 23, 2012 at 2:53 AM UTC
Of anger, hate, greed and Pride
which is a greater folly
Anger for sure will make
you burn and cause distress
or death to the other. Hate
surrogate of anger, more
overt and consuming but
a child of anger. Greed
seems to have nothing to do
with the above two but breeds
anger and hate towards all
that thwart the insatiable
fire of greed. As there is not
anything that can fulfill the
gastronomy of greed.
Pride though looks pretty
and makes one perky
takes the pride of place
in destroying all possibilities
of human kind. As it is
the pride that sets one
upon a perch that deceives
Reality. A perch that
makes unreal real and the
Truth into Untruth
Anger, hate and greed
need the theater of Pride
to play. Pride is a crown
of thorns that makes
one perceive even pain as
pleasure. Pride is the
Maya, the delusion of life.
Refinement of ignorance
Is not Enlightenment.
Sep 16, 2014
Sep 16, 2014 at 1:24 PM UTC
The nation is blinded
Its eyes covered by lack of knowledge and sympathy
Casting everyone into the pits of oppression
Minutes and hours go by and still hatred fills us
America is no longer the brave but the shell of what it once was
Congress can agree on nothing but to disagree
Is this the nation we once called America the free
Home of the brave is an injustice untruth
We're all cowards now to afraid of change to make difference
We tell people who they can love and how not to act from the color of pigment
America is no longer the land of liberty we judge so harshly hate binds us
Until that day we can raise hand in hand we're still the broken nation until we stand
Sep 19, 2013
Sep 19, 2013 at 12:13 AM UTC
A cornucopia of lies you freely fed to me,
and shoved the tainted, silver spoon down my throat,
You walked away,
and left me to choke on the ***** of your untruth.
You said you only wanted to protect me,
as you cowardly hovered your shield over yourself,
and your ******** covered bullets penetrated my heart,
driving me insane by my own sanity.
I suffocated in the shallow grave you tossed me in,
leaving me to bathe in the dirt,
and inevitably for my heart to decay and my soul to rot,
while you danced merrily atop of my tomb with your love.
I clawed my way out of the hell
that you imprisoned me in,
and stitched my mouth to keep out your lies,
becoming immortal against your torment.
Your poison tasting lips graze my own,
as you regret the treachery you bestowed on me,
but I hold a glimmering spoon in one hand,
and am whistling as I dig your grave.
Sep 29, 2015
Sep 29, 2015 at 1:24 AM UTC
Have the *****
the SPIRIT
the SPINAL BONES stacked strong and straight
Have the GUMPTION
the STRENGTH
Have the JAW to take a knock for honesty
Have the FREEDOM
for goodness sake
Don’t tell me what you should
tell me something REAL
Say what I know you’re thinking,
Say it LOUD
Be proud of your thought
think for yourself
Throw a curveball of integrity
into the conversation
leading to apathy
Say it with your EYES
as well as your lips
Don’t just mouth the words
like some mechanical clone
People need to push up against your SOUND
Rub lies up the wrong way
stop saying what is safe
Try to match untruth
WORD for WORD
with the straight, black, hard line
that runs right through people’s shifting eyes
Be UNCOMFORTABLE
UNCOMPROMISING
Speak your words like a gift to heads starved
for RIGHT
Speak up man
Speak up to the man
Let your speech slam against the grain
don’t be a fool swimming with the tide
give people the PEARLS of your mind
Don’t ever be blinded
for the sake of a world
without a spine
Say the words
that have been buried deep
under a pile of correctness
and say them
NOW.
© 2012 Zoe Tuckey
Jul 23, 2012
Jul 23, 2012 at 7:21 AM UTC
A blue sun beats down from
An electrically charged sky
I step into chaos an exodus
Towards the wastelands of
Fragmentation and depletion where
Fictions are invented daily and all
Images change where the shadows
Of life disappear in desperation
Where blood drips from eyes
Into a cataclysm that waits
Strung out in the black void
Clock hands attach themselves
To my mind piercing sentiments
Of shame
They elucidate the journey from
The external world seeking sanctuary
For visions that have been thrown
Dashed against bare brick walls
The ultimate realisation of imaginative
Truth shatters in torment falling sprinkling
To a festering ground proclaiming the
Dominance of emptiness
The conscious ambiguity of betrayal
That deforms corroboration creating
Untruth/ the derangement of qualification
A dialogue with the unknown gives
Birth to fictional facts of unsuitable
Confrontations of displacement
Back to imaginative reality that
Feasts on the trivial the banal
The ordinary and the mundane normal
I take steps into the space others
Fear to occupy become inside
The incantation of a new dimension
An actuality they brand as madness
Yet I am ecstatic in its awareness
This shall be my retribution
For who shall be judged
Ha, illumination is timeless
Has no master they can only
Speculate about the unknown
Its infinity
It is all the imaginations I possess
That shaky bridge between worlds
Where I take my heels my mind
Cannot be redistributed
I have lived through a disturbing night
Now move into an equally disturbing day
It is here I know I will die
Apr 5, 2012
Apr 5, 2012 at 11:33 AM UTC
You think you know love when you feel your stomach filled with butterflies.
You think nothing is the same once you feel them fly.
But one day you'll know love.
Although those butterflies will die.
They'll be replaced with little kicks
That turn into a freshly mopped floor covered in tiny muddy footprints.
True love is slow to anger.
And it's crazy how your little one is part you and part someone once a stranger.
With whom you now share a heart.
That lives outside your body,
adorable and smart.
Now imagine, another little one your lover brought to you. Part him and part stranger but the Stanger isn't you.
Imagine, if you can,
You love them both the same.
Such perfect little boys
They will bring you many joys.
But also much pain.
Sometimes it feels like a push and a shove.
But I promise you one day,
you will know love.
It will not sound like the "I love you"
That your mother used to say.
Or any of the sweet lies from before she gave you away.
Or the love HE tried to show you when he snuck into your little bed.
It won't feel like any
untruth that he put into your head.
You won't make your parents mistakes
Because these boys were sent to you from your Father from above.
So even when the thought shakes you,
Don't be scared to love.
© copyrighted Nicole Ann Sandoval
Jul 18, 2016
Jul 18, 2016 at 1:43 AM UTC
Bull Connor,
like the Dutch Boy from Haarlem,
put his finger in a hole
to plug a burgeoning leak.
But Bull Connor,
unlike the boy from Haarlem,
did not foresee
the raging torrents of history,
smashing against
the crumbling walls
of the porous ****
he sought to buttress.
His decadent heroism
held no moral authority
to sustain
his ungodly labors.
His savage dogs,
hungry for meat,
bent on aggression
for a twisted masters bidding
were devoured
by the teeth
of a movement
hungry for justice.
His water cannons,
tiny water pistols,
******
into the mighty squalls
of a raging hurricane
that blew the stinking *****
back onto his face.
The weight of history
moves with the just.
Untruth,
arch rival of justice,
is blown away,
like an expired candle
snuffed out,
blessedly extinguished
from the first breath
of a glorious new day.
Bull Connor
doesn’t rest in peace.
He stands on
the other side of the river.
He is the rich man
driven by
insane thirst
begging for water
from a comforted
Lazarus,
now secure
in the *****
of Abraham.
Bull Connor
looks across
the chasm of fire
he knows
he'll never bridge.
Medgar Evers
and MLK Jr.
stand as keepers,
collecting tolls
for a heavenly passage
from the wages he earned
for his earthly work.
A forlorn
Bull Connor
forever searches
deep empty pockets
for fare
as Martin
and Medgar
patiently wait
with outstretched palms.
Music Selection:
The Soul Stirrers,
Jesus Gave Me Water
MLK Jr. Day
1/20/86
NYC
jbm
Jan 16, 2012
Jan 16, 2012 at 8:55 AM UTC
The Miss-Director was beaming with pride
as he scurried up to escort me inside.
"Come along, these are perilous times,
there is much ugly truth we endeavor to hide."
""We recruit each years class from young children
who display a disdain for the truth."
"We start with a class on tall stories,
progressing to fibs and untruths."
"By the time they are teens they are ready
to leave little white lies behind."
"They engage in deceit and deception.
These skills help them rob people blind."
"With our Graduate course in lying
They misdirect and deflect with the great."
"Politicians here are made, not born,
and must learn to prevaricate."
"When Bill Clinton was caught in that perjury
I nearly went out of my mind."
"If only he'd paid more attention in Class
and less to some Coed's behind."
We had come to a massive rotunda
The Pantheon of all untruth.
Holograms of Stalin and Churchill
telling lies in an endless loop.
There were quotes from
the Koran and Bible
inscribed on the sides of the wall.
A Left wing devoted to Lenin.
A right wing like a Munich beer hall.
" The sheeple must never be told
that a place like this even exists."
" You can count on me not to inform them."
I said, barely moving my lips.
Jul 14, 2013
Jul 14, 2013 at 1:56 AM UTC