The Framers

There once was a girl who told no lies.

The truth she told never died.

Let’s put the truth

Into perspective:

There’s no such truth

But the truths

Of lying

With your back turned on the sky,

Eyes fixed firmly

On the dirt before you,

Seeping out

Through the cracked fingers

Of Men selling gold.

The gold key turns,

Out falls the dirt

Brought to Men by God

The Almighty, dropped from above

The universe, sprinkled with snake oil

And flushed down your throat

With the rest of the sewage–

Nourishing no one but the narcissist.

Oh, entitled no one

Awe us with your truth!

Show us your gilded dirt frame

Wrap it up in words, words, words..

Those golden lies that hide the truth

Of everyone’s lies–

Especially mine, the one framing truth

In poetry;

Wrapping it up in lies, lies, lies

Like wax candles, slowly burning

Into a juxtaposed cylinder.

You, the wick waiting

For melted truth

Of burnt lies.

All of a Heap

Here, I lie,
In this pit I call
My self, surrounded
By the heap of the Others,
With nothing I call my own.
Feeling no right to claim;
Knowing no claim to feel.
This pit is filled to the rim of the brim,
For here is where the Others heap
And heap all of a heap of a world.
Words and wisdoms like weighted water
Drown the light I know is there,
Waiting at the top.
I lie at the bottom
Beneath the heap, suffocated,
Stifled, and lying still.
The Others wait, knowing
The Truth I know, waiting
For me to stop lying, knowing
All I have known is lying.
Truth is, I am the heap
Personified; this pit I call my self is filled;
Words and wisdoms waiting,
Knowing I will come.
I will lift from this pit, leaving
Behind the lie, knowing
I carry Truth to share,
All of a heap to bare.
Rising, all I see is pits,
And pits, and pits, and pits..
I see them all lying, knowing
The Others are waiting,
For all of a heap to come.

[Originally written, 2012]