For Albert
Once plain, of sky and ocean gone. We simply cannot
Know the real from what is told to us. I shrug
Sometimes. There is no "real." There are, instead,
Projections issuing from several billion minds
Which do not, cannot, think alike, but we're submerged
By more than that. We try to rise above the lies.
The scientists may be forgiven, their lies only innocent
Attempts to understand a world too huge and strange
To understand, but others lie less innocently. Hucksters,
Everyone, it seems, in this once-thriving ghetto
Of the planet's least attractive creatures, avaricious,
Stupid souls, who leave their families and their homes
To get rich in America, and, since that is their only
Goal, they'll lie to sell us what they've made. They'll
Lie to tell us who they are, and lie when they say what
They'll do. They lie so much that they no longer know
For sure when they are lying, drowning us who've
Realized that nothing that we hear is true, and no
Amount of paddling now will raise us to the planes
Of sea and sky, where we at least could try to
Fathom what is real.
Poetry by Lawrence Beck
Read 68 times
Written on 2018-04-23 at 17:07
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Submerged
We sink ever farther beneath the surface, the planes,Once plain, of sky and ocean gone. We simply cannot
Know the real from what is told to us. I shrug
Sometimes. There is no "real." There are, instead,
Projections issuing from several billion minds
Which do not, cannot, think alike, but we're submerged
By more than that. We try to rise above the lies.
The scientists may be forgiven, their lies only innocent
Attempts to understand a world too huge and strange
To understand, but others lie less innocently. Hucksters,
Everyone, it seems, in this once-thriving ghetto
Of the planet's least attractive creatures, avaricious,
Stupid souls, who leave their families and their homes
To get rich in America, and, since that is their only
Goal, they'll lie to sell us what they've made. They'll
Lie to tell us who they are, and lie when they say what
They'll do. They lie so much that they no longer know
For sure when they are lying, drowning us who've
Realized that nothing that we hear is true, and no
Amount of paddling now will raise us to the planes
Of sea and sky, where we at least could try to
Fathom what is real.
Poetry by Lawrence Beck
Read 68 times
Written on 2018-04-23 at 17:07
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text| Texts |
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