Never question the relevance of truth, but always question the truth of relevance.
quote by Craig Bruce
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
Where Is the Relevance?
Where is the relevance?
One once connected and applied,
To a life making more not less sense.
For those who believed...
There was something treasured,
We all had in common.
Where is the relevance?
To the multitude of debates...
Delivered by those 'practicing' their intelligence,
On the shoulders of folks...
With similar tastes,
Now heating collectively...
In an impatience observed,
And without question seen.
And told they must wait in anticipation...
For those in positions of leadership,
To decide the urgency of our fates!
Where is the relevance?
Eyes opened created the decadence.
Few slept through the entertainment done.
No one complained about the feeding of greed.
Or lifestyles that were shared by a choice few.
Not everyone!
So where is that relevance?
The one declared we all share,
But never there.
The relevance of standards and quality,
We all strived to reach!
That relevance lived by a few in exclusivity...
But from the rest of us impeached.
Where is the relevance?
Sought and now called upon all of us to seek!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Relevance: No Return to a Ping, With Its Pong Gone
Where is it?
Who hid it from opened eyes.
And why is it in disguise?
Where is it?
A relevance missing.
With few curious.
Has it been thrusted,
And crushed under a bus?
Where is it?
A relevance,
Making sense.
Where is this presence that has gone?
And the minds it stayed on?
With relevance spoken strong...
Are they too gone?
Without a relevance,
Freed from its ping!
With a needed pong gone!
Think about this...
But not too long.
If you delivered a ping,
Would you not expect a pong to belong?
Or in time,
Come along?
Where is it?
This relevance that was here,
Seems to have disappeared.
And it is very clear,
Relevance known...
Has shown to us,
It does not feel...
It belongs.
Freed from its ping!
With a needed pong gone!
Think about this...
Again if you wish.
There were opportunities,
When relevance was near.
And clear!
Now that it is absent...
Do you feel,
A bit of a tear?
And if there's no relevance,
What is the purpose...
To go on to sing unchained melodies?
Oh,
My love.
My darling...
I hunger!
Where is it?
And if there is no relevance,
What is the purpose,
To go on to sing songs without meaning?
Breaking up is hard to do.
Where is that relevance we once knew?
Where is it?
A relevance,
Making sense.
Where is it?
And if there is no relevance,
What is the purpose,
To go on?
To sing songs of love.
And...
No return to a ping,
With its pong gone!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Relevance
It is much too big to contain it.
Relevance.
It connects to a point of view,
Making sense.
A pieced together relevance.
And changing it to convince,
An alternative provides more to give...
With a backing of defense.
For those accustomed to confusion,
Conflicts for them sit well.
But a relevance to what exists,
Clears the air where delusions...
Have been invited to dwell.
Bringing 'home' a relevance,
Invites communication.
And from that confusion is dispelled.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
In Broken Images
He is quick, thinking in clear images;
I am slow, thinking in broken images.
He becomes dull, trusting to his clear images;
I become sharp, mistrusting my broken images.
Trusting his images, he assumes their relevance;
Mistrusting my images, I question their relevance.
Assuming their relevance, he assumes the fact;
Questioning their relevance, I question the fact.
When the fact fails him, he questions his senses;
When the fact fails me, I approve my senses.
He continues quick and dull in his clear images;
I continue slow and sharp in my broken images.
He in a new confusion of his understanding;
I in a new understanding of my confusion.
poem by Robert Graves
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Slipping Away to Fade
Stripped quick from being significant.
A relevance is slipping away.
Upgraded is the consciousness.
And the importance of it has come to stay.
It is difficult to suppress,
Truth when truth is sought and confessed.
And pointless it is to try to hide it too...
When beliefs once known have shown new roots.
With a growing that leaves clear and fresh air to breathe.
Stripped quick from being significant.
A relevance is slipping away.
Upgraded is the consciousness.
And the importance of it has come to stay.
And we have been chosen to witness it.
And we who have come to benefit from this,
Will rise like flowers reaching up from concrete.
Becoming part of that which yesterday was not possible.
Not when solutions were ignored to correct,
Cracks appearing on city streets.
With powers unlimited and abilities unrestricted...
By useless conflicts inflicted to deceive.
With minds now uplifted no longer accepting this,
As part of life and the experience of it.
Stripped quick from being significant.
A relevance to stick,
Is slipping away.
Slipping away to fade.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Admit the truth
Tell me the truth once in your life.
Answer me, to my straight question.
At what time that day did you bring
Your wife from her bosses flat?
Tell me the truth once in your life.
Answer me to my straight question.
At what home did you get your maid
Aborted and at what cost to save your pride?
Tell me the truth once in your life.
Answer me to my straight question.
How many son-in-laws did you change
Before you set her in a wealthy lord?
Tell me the truth once in your life
Before you die a death of beach,
Having built your fort on illicit bricks.
Admit the truth at least only once.
20.03.2005
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Identifying How It Is Applied
You're looking for relevance?
What a coincidence.
So am I.
But I think the retrieving of it...
Will depend on one of us,
Identifying how it is applied.
Whenever it is discovered!
And to what will it be processed?
To impress whom?
And why should we care,
If it doesn't become recognized.
Since whose relevance will it then belong,
Once you and I declare it so and agree?
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Which Hurts The Most?
Which hurts the most
the truth or the lie?
Or are both equal is someone’s eyes.
The truth they say hurts,
only when you’ve done something wrong,
you never wanted to admit.
Now the lie is a twist of the truth.
Done by someone
who is frightened by the truth.
Again, I ask the question,
which hurts most
the truth or the lie?
The answer to the question
is only revealed,
by the hurt look in someone’s eyes.
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
What Do I Really Feel?
this is the most important
question that i ask to myself
in everything that i do
in everything that happens to me.
that is never your question.
Yours had always been a different
version.
In your philosophy you are more
of a practical person
and you take pride in the
usefulness of each
a bucket, a wheel, a plate
a car, not that kite,
nor that mural, they are not
necessary for the movement
of things to progress.
You are the opposite of what i own.
I own nothing, you claim that everything
is yours. To hold, to have title.
what do i really feel?
you laugh. What is the relevance of that
question to your profits?
You are like my doctor
Who does not mind my pain
but minds his fees.
When a man gets cured
There is no place for sympathy.
It is the money
stupid. You grin.
here we are at the junction of feelings.
I go this way, You go that way.
I will not look for you
You will not look for me.
We then say
How long did we realize that we are
still making a beginning
to this long pretentious affair?
I am an existentialist
but i have never wished you dead.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
On the Question of Loyalty
Nothing doubt
to figure out,
no fissure gives
a crack to hesitate,
purely in chastity,
why question.
all the trust flings,
nothing to question,
trust is the answer.
Comfortable spirit,
rest much the brain,
night is a great friend,
no unthinkable trouble,
then one day
the world cracks
of the newly found
truth, the truth of a traitor
to break the trust it gives,
yet the question lies,
what's the rating of
your loyalty?
nobody knows
except you!
poem by Susan T. Aparejo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Truth Through Repetition
Truth through repetition Truth through repetition Truth through repetition
ruth through repetition Truth through repetition Truth through repetition T
uth through repetition Truth through repetition Truth through repetition Tr
th through repetition Truth through repetition Truth through repetition Tru
h through repetition Truth through repetition Truth through repetition Trut
through repetition Truth through repetition Truth through repetition Truth
through repetition Truth through repetition Truth through repetition Truth
hrough repetition Truth through repetition Truth through repetition Truth t
rough repetition Truth through repetition Truth through repetition Truth th
ough repetition Truth through repetition Truth through repetition Truth thr
ugh repetition Truth through repetition Truth through repetition Truth thro
gh repetition Truth through repetition Truth through repetition Truth throu
h repetition Truth through repetition Truth through repetition Truth throug
repetition Truth through repetition Truth through repetition Truth through
repetition Truth through repetition Truth through repetition Truth through
epetition Truth through repetition Truth through repetition Truth through r
petition Truth through repetition Truth through repetition Truth through re
etition Truth through repetition Truth through repetition Truth through rep
tition Truth through repetition Truth through repetition Truth through repe
ition Truth through repetition Truth through repetition Truth through repet
tion Truth through repetition Truth through repetition Truth through repeti
ion Truth through repetition Truth through repetition Truth through repetit
on Truth through repetition Truth through repetition Truth through repetiti
n Truth through repetition Truth through repetition Truth through repetitio
Truth through repetition Truth through repetition Truth through repetiion
Truth through repetition Truth through repetition Truth through repetition
ruth through repetition Truth through repetition Truth through repetition T
uth through repetition Truth through repetition Truth through repetition Tr
th through repetition Truth through repetition Truth through repetition Tru
h through repetition Truth through repetition Truth through repetition Trut
through repetition Truth through repetition Truth through repetition Truth
through repetition Truth through repetition Truth through repetition Truth
poem by David Keig
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
(V - 2009) The Truth of the Truth
The Sages and Seers
That be and have been
Cannot have seen
The truth of the Truth!
What they see as Truth
Is Truth merely
It’s not really
The truth of the Truth!
The Ultimate Truth
Cannot be known
We aren’t that grown –
The truth of the Truth!
We’re part of the Truth
We’re trying to see
We’re yet so tiny –
The truth of the Truth!
Though hard and great
The pains we give
We cannot outlive
The truth of the Truth!
What’s Truth to you once
Remains not the same
So changing the game –
The truth of the Truth!
What’s Truth to a man
Is not Truth to all
That’s what we call
The truth of the Truth!
These thoughts as I pen
It’s Truth to me
It’s to me only
The truth of the Truth!
My Question for M lady Fay
There is a question I must pose
In the vain hope that someone knows
Who’s willing to enlighten me.
Before my birth where would I be
This question always puzzles me
and when I die where do I go.
I have asked priests who hesitate
to answer me, they vacillate.
Because in truth they do not know.
They quote their Holy Book to me
But I have looked and cannot see.
The answer that I seek to find.
Why is it that they pretend to know
from whence I came and where I go.
And yet they will not answer me.
My question is a simple one
I make it clear to everyone.
But no one seems to understand.
The truth is what I seek to know
From whence I came where do I go.
Will somebody please answer me.
20-Nov-08
http: // blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Teacher as healer: an observation
Even before the question put,
they’re full of quiet attention; something
is already being listened to.. makes
that space, in which a question
may be floated on the air..
tentatively perhaps, or self-concerned,
the question’s put; and listened to;
perhaps with gentle nod of head;
a keen attention; even a half-smile:
you and they are meeting now
in the fullness of the heart, in
a place that’s fully shared:
the teacher, almost eager, so it seems,
to hear more of your truth;
to hear the truth of you.
And as the question nears its end,
the answer floats upon the air
as if it and the question are but one;
the answer gently given, as if
already shared; not given,
not received; but already shared;
(and I saw: each time they said
the words ‘it is’, their spine
relaxed into a greater straightness..)
Who can describe that unity of mind -
as joy in stillness; or the bliss of peace?
Somewhere in the world of name and form,
something has been healed;
wholeness has returned to wholeness;
perfection taken, and returned;
the teacher, too, is still;
gifts of grace have been exchanged.
poem by Michael Shepherd
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Out of Relevance
Out of relevance.
Out of having any influence,
Period.
When does it become collectively witnessed,
That what had been done...
No longer is effective?
When does it in heads click,
Something about their approach...
Has to be re-examined.
And quick.
Especially,
If nothing is accomplished.
And that is not wished to be achieved.
A nothingness is there...
And 'that' can be believed.
However...
When are the signs going to stop,
From being ignored.
When are those who say they have faith...
Going to begin to have that faith explored?
Out of relevance.
Out of having any influence,
Period.
They did this to themselves.
And their excuses are as tired,
As those who have grown sick to listening to them.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Lying Truth
How do we know we are speaking the truth.
Because we got it from a 'reliable' source,
And who told you it was a 'reliable' source.
Ha, Is there any thing that is really called the truth.
For, every 'truth' told in this twisted and sinister world,
A lie is invented, concocted, told.
And when a question is asked, and the truth is required,
And if told, many events, considered dire,
Happen in response,
A white lie is told.
But the whitest lie, considered the truthful lie,
Thought up by those considered wise and selfless,
Is really the darkest, blackest, most deceiving lies of all.
Over time stories, true stories, turn to myths, myths to legends.
so why not lies, white lies too.
Centuries, years, maybe even weeks and days,
Turns the most deceiving and evil lies into the 'truth'.
So I come back to my original question,
But don't misconstrue my words,
For I dear not defy the truth,
The truth, so rare, that passes us unnoticed, unseen, undetected,
The rare truth that exists in this dark, sinister world.
So yes,
How do we know we are speaking the truth.
The truth, the truth, the lie.
poem by Michael Devenish
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The 'Truth
How do we know we are speaking the truth.
Because we got it from a 'reliable' source,
And who told you it was a 'reliable' source.
Ha, Is there any thing that is really called the truth.
For, every 'truth' told in this twisted and sinister world,
A lie is invented, concocted, told.
And when a question is asked, and the truth is required,
And if told, many events, considered dire,
Happen in response,
A white lie is told.
But the whitest lie, considered the truthful lie,
Thought up by those considered wise and selfless,
Is really the darkest, blackest, most deceiving lies of all.
Over time stories, true stories, turn to myths, myths to legends.
so why not lies, white lies too.
Centuries, years, maybe even weeks and days,
Turns the most deceiving and evil lies into the 'truth'.
So I come back to my original question,
But don't misconstrue my words,
For I dear not defy the truth,
The truth, so rare, that passes us unnoticed, unseen, undetected,
The rare truth that exists in this dark, sinister world.
So yes,
How do we know we are speaking the truth.
The truth, the truth, the lie.
poem by Michael Devenish
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Truth Is
What is truth?
the question of the ages
Is still being probed
Amongst the world's sages.
Truth, the father of virtue
And kinsman of beauty
Is the colleague and ally
Of rectitude and duty.
Truth is not passive
As the Rosetta Stone
Foe its Author is living,
To the possessors, well-known.
Truth is love at work
In the visitation of He
Who came through the Fashioner
In the form of humanity !
poem by Rosalie Kollett
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
13 Question Method
(chuck berry)
Now, the thirteen question method is the one to use
Listen to me!
Thirteen question method is the one to use
Im saying that the thirteen question method is the one you gotta use
If you wanna have some fun
cause the thirteen question method is the one to use
Uhn!
Question number one: you wanna have fun, uh hun
Question number two: what to do ?
Lets see!
Question number three: wanna go out and eat burger with me ?
God almighty!
For the thirteen question method is the one to use
Now the question number five: dont give me no jive this morning
Question number six: dont try no tricks, this evening
Question number seven: Ill pick you up at a quarter to eleven, baby
And question number eight: its a date
Thats question number nine: where to dine, this evening ?
Question number ten: ah, can we get in ?
Question number eleven: gonna be just like heaven ?
God almighty!
Question number twelve: we get by ourselves ?
cause the thirteen question method is the one to use
The thirteen question method is the one to use
Now the thirteen question method is the one gotta use if you wanna...
The thirteen question method is the one to use
And she says ah...
She says...
The thirteen question method is the one to use
The thirteen question method is the one to use
Now the thirteen question method is the one gotta use if you wanna have some fun
cause the...
song performed by by Ry Cooder
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
The Search Will Never Stop
In the search of the truth their is always more question then answers.
You must use both your heart and head and find your truth.
For in what you see will not be the same as me.
Even as you find one their will be another question in its place to remain.
It is enough to drive one insane.
But in this pursuit you find the unexpected, and rejected.
In this pursuit you will find both sadness and happiness.
And with everything that is found their will be another possibility out their.
Which lead you to a forever continuation of your search.
poem by Ace Of Black Hearts
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!