Homer has taught all other poets the art of telling lies skillfully.
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It is Homer who has chiefly taught other poets the art of telling lies skillfully.
The Way of Heaven does not compete, And yet it skillfully achieves victory. It does not speak, and yet it skillfully responds to things. It comes to you without your invitation.
Finished With Lies
Now Im telling the truth
Im finished with lies, lies
If you dont believe me now
Youll never believe me now
I should have my head examined
Theyll see when they look inside
I wont have to say a word
Ill stop thinking what I shouldnt be thinking
Ill make everyone believe me
Cant you see Im telling the truth
Im finished with lies, lies
If you dont believe me now
Youll never believe me now
Youll think its a lie
Couldnt we just put away the ancient history
Throw up our hands at the unsolved mysteries
Im going to have my head examined
Ill prove you were wrong about me
Move the needle telepathically
Ill turn everything around and confuse you
Talk faster and faster till I lose you
Ill fix it so you cant remember what was true
And therell be nothing to remind you
Starting now Im telling the truth
Im finished with lies, lies
If you dont believe me now
Youll never believe me now
Now Im telling the truth
Im finished with lies, lies
If you dont believe me now
Youll never believe me now
Lies, lies
Youll think its a lie
Youll think its a lie
Youll think its a lie
song performed by by They Might Be Giants
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Good Poets and Bad Poets
Some poets get awards and think they are good poets.
Some poets never get awards and think they are bad poets.
Some poets think they are good poets only in their own mind
Some poets think they are bad poets in somebody's else mind.
Some poets think they are good poets in somebody else mind.
Some poets think others think they are good poets but they don't in their hearts.
Some poets think they are good poets in their hearts but not in anyone else's mind.
All are insecure, except those who get security from the opinions of others and that, alas, doesn't last and isn't real.
Some poets have left the entire scene and live only in their mind.
Some poets take criticism and don't mind.
Some poets avoid criticism and do mind.
Some poets write poetry to get love.
Some poets love to write poetry.
Some poets are ahead of their time, in their mind
Some poets spend a lifetime feeling like failures in their mind
Some poets live only after they die.
Some poets have much to say but can't articulate
Some poets retreat, believing others don't understand
So which one of these am I?
I guess I am all of these and none of these
and no matter what my description
I intend to keep doing what I do:
Write. Right
poem by Lonnie Hicks
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Here now John Keats, I salute you
Some of your poems
were met with contempt
and yet above most
English poets your work rise.
Your words are deep and wise
and sweep past time
in eloquence,
breaking right through history
with magic and imagery
and only after death
your true honour comes.
Now famous are your name
and on first reading
“Chapman’s Homer”
I was convinced
to read Homer’s Iliad and the Odyssey.
Your “La Belle Dame sans Merci”
and “Lamia” are reflected
in my own verse
and here now
John Keats, I salute you
while your words
are immortal to me.
poem by Gert Strydom
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In the world of poetry there are would-be poets, workshop poets, promising poets, lovesick poets, university poets, and a few real poets.
quote by James Broughton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Stung
Lies.
My lies.
My lies.
I learned to quick admit them.
Lies.
My lies.
My lies.
I learned to quick admit them.
When I was young I said I was stung by a bee.
And I was told not to go where I shouldn't be.
And then I 'fibbed' thinking this would benefit.
And right away my mama punished me for it...
'Cause I led.
Lies.
My lies.
My lies.
I learned to quick admit them.
Lies.
My lies.
My lies.
I learned to quick admit them.
My mama struck me and my lips went out poked.
She said don't ever lie and she was no joke.
And I cried.
I cried.
I cried.
My mama stung and I was punished...
From lies.
Telling lies.
My lies.
My mama stung and I was punished...
From lies.
Telling lies.
My lies.
And I learned quick to admit them!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Kick In The Face
Sometimes its not fair
Too many lies are told
Here we go- dont blame me
What are you lying for
Dont treat me like a toy
I have been through this pain
Long before- again and again
I believe that its much too much
I only listen to my heart
Its never telling me a lie
I only listen to my heart
Like a kick in the face- sentimental lies
Like a kick in the face- sentimental lies
Dont you dare to hurt me
Its my life- and its real
Im not your fool
I will fight for my right
I only listen to my heart
Its never telling me a lie
I only listen to my heart
Like a kick in the face- sentimental lies
Like a kick in the face- sentimental lies
Like a kick in the face
Lets get right down to it
I hate the way you talk
Im leaving all the bad times
I leave it all- all for you
I only listen to my heart
Its never telling me a lie
I only listen to my heart
Its like a kick in your face- sentimental lies
Like a kick in your face- sentimental lies
Its like a kick in your face- sentimental lies
Like a kick in your face- sentimental lies
song performed by by U. D. O.
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Undergoing Vigorous Renovation
It is easy to win someone,
With the telling of lies.
Many refuse to call them that.
Preferring 'Embellished Exaggerations'...
As if a renovation has been made,
To mask flat out lies!
The act begins to win one's confidence,
In a dismantling of truth.
Innocent enough not to be noticed.
As deceivers take their passengers,
Through the weeds of deception.
Many have been encouraged,
To nourish this as a 'gift'.
It is easy to win someone,
With the telling of lies.
Many refuse to call them that.
Preferring 'Embellished Exaggerations'...
As if a renovation has been made,
To mask flat out lies!
And flat out lies told by those masking truths...
Are always undergoing vigorous renovation.
To be changed with the re-telling.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Sick & Tired
I feel it, there's tension inside of me
Pressure is presently pushing down on me
The first time it starts with just you and I'm
Repeating myself but you don't hear me
I can see what you see
But is it worth it to me?
The same old conversation
Over and over and over
I'm just sick and tired
Of all those lies you tell me
You say those same things to me
Over and over and over
It's safe to say you're surprised
I see right through you this time
But I keep telling you
It's over, it's over, it's over
You've taken these things that belong to me
Twisted so tightly and torn so carefully
The last time it ends with just you and I
Alone in a room with these torn bed sheets
I can see what you see
And it ain't worth it to me
The same old conversation
Over and over and over
I'm just sick and tired
Of all those lies you tell me
You say those same things to me
Over and over and over
It's safe to say you're surprised
I see right through you this time
But I keep telling you
It's over, it's over, it's over
You swore that I'd regret it
Now thanks to you I can't forget it
Cost of this constant battle
Won't even miss you at all
Free from those lies that you call...
I'm just sick and tired
Of all those lies you tell me
You say those same things to me
Over and over and over
It's safe to say you're surprised
I see right through you this time
But I keep telling you
It's over, it's over, It's over
I'm just sick and tired
Of all those lies you tell me
You say those same things to me
Over and over and over
It's safe to say you're surprised
I see right through you this time
But I keep telling you
It's over, it's over, It's over
song performed by by Default
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Yet, taught by time, my heart has learned to glow for other's good, and melt at other's woe.
Telling Lies
You tell your lies unto your daughters
You told those lies unto their fathers
You tell them lies, in such a disguise
So later in years them you could deny.
You tell your lies unto your friends
You told those lies to all your men
You make up an excuse, just to confuse
So no one knows what you put them through.
You tell your lies unto your teacher
You told your lies unto your preacher
You then shed a tear, so with pity they'd hear
And also when no one else is ever near.
You tell your lies to any caller
You told your lies unto your lawyer
You say any word, though may be absurd
Even though from someone else you heard.
You tell your lies in your prayer
You told those lies to the choir
But you still will be blamed, for all the pain
As sadly you and your lying will remain.
You will tell your lies each and everyday
You will tell those lies when you get old and gray
Sadly you will tell them till, your heart beats still
But then hearing those lies no one else ever will.
You will tell your lies when you meet GOD
You will tell those lies with a pitiful nod
You will beg him again, that you did no sin
But GOD will know where you have been.
You will tell your lies when you meet the Devil
You will tell those lies as as you are at the same level
But at you he will grin, as he knows all your sin
As with you all those times he too has been.
Your daughters will sin and tell their lies
As to anyone that will listen they will also cry
As you taught them not the truth, but only how to use
So also their destiny from lies they did choose.
Randy L. McClave
poem by Randy McClave
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Videotaped and Seen
Why do those caught in the telling,
Of outrageous lies...
Still try to protect themselves,
By the telling of bigger lies?
The jaw dropping creative kind.
And then...
Deceive others by belittling a friend,
To include in this charade.
By announcing themselves innocent,
And a victim of misdeeds that 'friend' had made.
People today can be videotaped AND fingerprinted.
And seen in action in pictures taken...
To contradict their fables told over and over!
And still they will declare themselves,
Free of any involvement or acknowledgement...
Or what had provoked them to the telling,
Of someone...
With no reason at all,
Had chosen them to unleash an anger!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Open The Door, Homer (1)
by Bob Dylan
Now, there's a certain thing
That I learned from Jim
That he'd always make sure I'd understand
And that is that there's a certain way
That a man must swim
If he expects to live off
Of the fat of the land.
Open the door, Homer,
I've heard it said before.
Open the door, Homer,
I've heard it said before
But I ain't gonna hear it said no more.
Now, there's a certain thing
That I learned from my friend, Mouse
A fella who always blushes
And that is that ev'ryone
Must always flush out his house
If he don't expect to be
Goin' 'round housing flushes.
Open the door, Homer,
I've heard it said before.
Open the door, Homer,
I've heard it said before
But I ain't gonna hear it said no more.
"Take care of all your memories"
Said my friend, Mick
"For you cannot relive them
And remember when you're out there
Tryin' to heal the sick
That you must always
First forgive them."
Open the door, Homer,
I've heard it said before.
Open the door, Homer,
I've heard it said before
But I ain't gonna hear it said no more.
song performed by by Bob Dylan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Natural Knack Chosen
It has been my biggest mistake made to date.
Proving that honesty spoken and faced,
Is better than having the telling of lies...
To chase me for the rest of my life.
I have learned today,
So many prefer the telling of lies.
And have come to despise those,
Who seem to have a natural knack chosen...
In the poking of holes that masquerade kept delusions.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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You Caused It All By Telling Lies
[g] when youre alone and blue tonight my little [c] darlin
And youre [g] pillows stained with tears from your blue [d] eyes
Im so [g] sorry dear to say were not [c] together
But you [d] know you caused it all by telling [g] lies
[g] now I know Ill never find another [c] sweetheart
When you [g] left I hung my head down and I [d] cried
But we [g] quarled and now were through my little [c] darlin
And you [d] know you caused it all by telling [g] lies
[g] we were happy, oh so happy little [c] darlin
And our [g] little home was like a [d] paradise
But [g] today youre all alone and broken [c] hearted
And you [d] know you cause it all by telling [g] lies
[g] now I know Ill never find another [c] sweetheart
When you [g] left I hung my head down and I [d] cried
But we [g] quarled and now were through my little [c] darlin
And you [d] know you caused it all by telling [g] lies
song performed by by Hank Williams
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Some Of You May Think I Am Joshing (Shakespearean Sonnet)
Some of you may think that I am joshing
You may think that I am telling you all lies
I'm getting tired of constant jeering
With all of you hiding behind your guise
It really doesn't matter to me much
What many of you poets think of me
I just hope that you all don't pull your punch
Just tell me the truth about what you see
I'm a grown poet I can take the truth
So let me know about what you all think
Even if you may knock out my front tooth
Maybe I'll go and have a physical
So I can prove that I'm not full of bull
poem by Edwin Tanguma
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Open The Door, Homer
Now, theres a certain thing
That I learned from jim
That hed always make sure Id understand
And that is that theres a certain way
That a man must swim
If he expects to live off
Of the fat of the land.
Open the door, homer,
Ive heard it said before.
Open the door, homer,
Ive heard it said before
But I aint gonna hear it said no more.
Now, theres a certain thing
That I learned from my friend, mouse
A fella who always blushes
And that is that evryone
Must always flush out his house
If he dont expect to be
Goin round housing flushes.
Open the door, homer,
Ive heard it said before.
Open the door, homer,
Ive heard it said before
But I aint gonna hear it said no more.
Take care of all your memories
Said my friend, mick
For you cannot relive them
And remember when youre out there
Tryin to heal the sick
That you must always
First forgive them.
Open the door, homer,
Ive heard it said before.
Open the door, homer,
Ive heard it said before
But I aint gonna hear it said no more.
song performed by by Bob Dylan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Ballade Of A Talked-Off Ear
Daily I listen to wonder and woe,
Nightly I hearken to knave or to ace,
Telling me stories of lava and snow,
Delicate fables of ribbon and lace,
Tales of the quarry, the kill, the chase,
Longer than heaven and duller than hell-
Never you blame me, who cry my case:
"Poets alone should kiss and tell!"
Dumbly I hear what I never should know,
Gently I counsel of pride and of grace;
Into minutiae gayly they go,
Telling the name and the time and the place.
Cede them your silence and grant them space-
Who tenders an inch shall be raped of an ell!
Sympathy's ever the boaster's brace;
Poets alone should kiss and tell.
Why am I tithed what I never did owe?
Choked with vicarious saffron and mace?
Weary my lids, and my fingers are slow-
Gentlemen, damn you, you've halted my pace.
Only the lads of the cursed race,
Only the knights of the desolate spell,
May point me the lines the blood-drops trace-
Poets alone should kiss and tell.
L'ENVOI
Prince or commoner, tenor or bass,
Painter or plumber or never-do-well,
Do me a favor and shut your face
Poets alone should kiss and tell.
poem by Dorothy Parker
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Why Is It So Incredulous
When children are taught,
That a telling of truth...
May invite dire consequences,
They themselves produce.
Why is it so incredulous...
A manufacturing of deceit and lies,
Has been the most increasing commodity...
Very few attempt to hide!
As if this is a surprise.
And to whom?
Those stuck in denial to place others on trial?
With a buyer's remorse that brings to them gloom.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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