Decision Time
He sat in a chair
and rocked all night.
Could not sleep.
He was so uptight.
He thought about lies
being told by liars.
He thought about burnin'
in hell's fires.
He knew how the lies
would take him down.
The liars would win
and wear the crown.
When the night ended
and the sun came through
he saw it shining
and knew what he would do.
He'd change his life
and never look back.
For all the liars
are on the wrong track.
You can't stay on the road
that leads to hell
or you'll end up like the liars
and stay where they dwell.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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Related quotes
What Do Liars Then Do?
Liars know who they are.
And what they have done,
To pursue temporary satisfactions.
With a demoralizing of whom they choose.
As if what they've done will stick like glue.
Those who have been scrutinized,
By the telling of false lies...
To have been victimized with tears cried.
Are aware of them too!
Yet to retaliate is something they refuse.
But those who have been undermined,
Do what liars instigating have chosen not to do.
And that is to wait patiently,
To let time intervene...
With a demeaning liars with an applying of truth.
What do liars then do?
Plead to be released from mental guilty beatings.
And even if forgiven,
Liars once exposed for who they are...
Can never find places to keep themselves hidden.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Liars and Lovers
By Ms. Kristen Palmitier
People who lie once should not be called liars
Because while everyone lies once in a while,
Real liars lie all of the time.
In addition, real liars make others feel that they are no good.
Are lovers and liars different, or are they the same?
Both are different and alike in many ways.
You can't really be sure if you love someone
If there is no trust in each other.
There is just no other way to say it:
'Without trust in each other's heart,
There will be no heart to trust.'
And one alone cannot trust;
Both must trust.
poem by Martin Rini
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Book Of Liars
Bye and bye now
Well get over
The things weve done and the things we said
But not just now when
I can t remember
Exactly what it was I thought we had
cause I waited so long girl and I came so far
To find out youre not always who you say you are
And theres a star in the book of liars by your name
Santa claus came in late last night
Drunk on christmas wine
Fell down hard in the driveway
Hung his bag out on the laundry line
Theres a cobra gunship for his golden boy
And theres a hello kitty for his pride and joy
And a silver star in the book of liars by your name
They hung a star in the book of liars by your name
Stars imploding
The long night passing
Electrons dancing in the frozen crystal dawn
Heres one left stranded at the zero crossing
With a hole in its half-life left to carry on
But now the worlds much larger than it looks today
And if my bad luck ever blows me back this way
Then Ill just look in my book of liars for your name
Ill just look in the book of liars for your name
song performed by by Steely Dan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Poets Are Liars
Poets are liars. They cannot be tamed.
They live on borrowed dreams, and have the gift
Of casting out a graceful, witty line,
And catching your heart or mind in their snare;
Reeling you in, helpless, with a deft couplet.
Poets are liars. Never believe them.
Don’t even listen to them if you can help.
They have spells in their tongues, and fire in their eyes.
They will give you suns and stars wrapped in words,
And you will follow them, rapt like a child.
Poets are liars. It’s how they survive.
They give you their lies in exchange for your truths,
And fashion a life of their own from the scraps.
They must have an audience; without it,
They fade and pale, and soon cease to exist.
Poets are liars, even in the womb;
They kick at their mothers, curious, restless,
And dream of wonders to fill the world outside:
Soft, formless lies, growing with each cell,
Chronicled in wordless sagas nine months long.
Poets are liars; and of all liars,
They are the most dangerous. They will tell you
Of love that lasts forever, of lives that changed,
Of happy endings and greater meanings.
They make you wish, and hope, and dream, and feel.
poem by Amy Sutton
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All Is Truth
it is a lie
i am not myself
i am all of nature
the air, water, grass
every thing in everything
i am not myself
how can i be myself
when if the air goes away
i too have to go away
proving that i am but a lie
i am but a cog in the wheel
it is a lie
i am not myself
i am all of nature
the water, the grass, the clouds
how could i be myself
when if the water runs its last drop
i too would too have to make that last pause from the world
those teachers who get me to think i am just
body and bones are liars
i am more than that
how could i be myself only
when if the sun says goodbye
i too have to say goodbye to all
call me anything buy myself
the sun, the moon, the air, water
will vouch for that
you liars
inspired by
All Is Truth
O ME, man of slack faith so long!
Standing aloof-denying portions so long;
Only aware to-day of compact, all-diffused truth;
Discovering to-day there is no lie, or form of lie, and can be none,
but grows as inevitably upon itself as the truth does upon
itself,
Or as any law of the earth, or any natural production of the earth
does.
(This is curious, and may not be realized immediately-But it must be
realized;
I feel in myself that I represent falsehoods equally with the rest,
And that the universe does.)
Where has fail'd a perfect return, indifferent of lies or the truth?
Is it upon the ground, or in water or fire? or in the spirit of man?
or in the meat and blood?
Meditating among liars, and retreating sternly into myself, I see
that there are really no liars or lies after all,
And that nothing fails its perfect return-And that what are called
lies are perfect returns,
And that each thing exactly represents itself, and what has preceded
it,
And that the truth includes all, and is compact, just as much as
space is compact,
And that there is no flaw or vacuum in the amount of the truth-but
that all is truth without exception;
And henceforth I will go celebrate anything I see or am,
And sing and laugh, and deny nothing.
Walt Whitman
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Truth is a Flower
Doubt may crack from deletions of war,
Such that delusions mutter slowly
Making the populace to be mad
And then madder
And madder than that.
Truth is a different job and career,
For you who has guilt in the work.
Mud and wild flowers can be swallowed
In a mouthful by the liars.
They are all mad liars, that much.
poem by Naveed Akram
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The Son
My liars are even on my brow
Where my eyes are situated.
I see their glaring and staring
When soft and hard collide.
The sight of a candle and cupboard
Appears in my mind,
But it is really there in my room,
My very bedroom, breathing is good.
I ride my body into this considerable sight,
The world is my son of course.
The liars of my sight are like nations
In my world, the son of joy and sleep.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Out Of Whack
Maybe nobody told you about this life
Maybe nobody answered your questions why
Simple revelations, they come in time
Those liars told us things would all be fine
Born out of whack, give him something possible
You thought it would've mattered
Not likely to change things we've come too far
Where innocent young kids are put behind bars
But it's an easy decision, banished so far
You're not as civil as you think you are
(Chorus)
You say we're all born out of whack
Well, don't act so surprised now, there's been
A lot going on
Since you realized that we're all just kids trying
To get along
So answer one thing
Are you gonna stay inside, are you gonna stay
Inside of your minds?
Are we all born wrong?
(Chorus)
[As printed in CD booklet
song performed by by Flaw
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Actors are good liars; writers are good liars with good memories.
quote by Daniel Keys Moran
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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(The) Bigger Lie
Which liars deny,
They did or did not tell...
The bigger lie.
Or acknowledge any used,
To coverup any known!
Only shows that lies,
Are being told!
And on a daily basis,
They have been sold!
The entire system created,
Has been built on them.
Where has the honesty ever thrived...
When even the churches,
Are dens of sins!
Integrity seems to be known by those ostracized.
Those who speak with a truthfulness,
Who are character assassinated...
And dragged through the mud,
Despised.
A society that is witnessed falling apart...
Tries hard to masquerade its decadence.
By criminalizing petty offenses...
Of those who privately smoke their dope,
And munch on candy bars!
Which liars deny,
They did or did not tell...
The bigger lie.
Or acknowledge any used,
To coverup any known!
Only shows that lies,
Are being told!
And on a daily basis,
They have been sold!
As a quality of life once respected and lived...
Means absolutely nothing,
To those who witness the BS!
And identify the BS for what that BS really is!
But not distant enough to keep away the smell of it.
Or stop from thinking of it...
As a bunch of ssshhhenanigans dropped and done!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Not Into Charity
I'm.Not.The.One...
You wanna bait,
2-fake-a-chase.
NotmeNotme, no!
I'm.Not.The.One...
2-sit-and-beg...
4-a-taste...laced!
NotmeNotme, no!
I'm.Not one,
2-patiently-pace...
Or-wait-in-a-car!
Not for a metermaid I'm gonna pay!
NotmeNotme, no!
I'm not into charity, baby.
Or into organized liars...
Looking for a shot of Myers' Rum.
Not into charity, baby.
Or into organized liars...
Looking for a shot of Myers' Rum.
Un uh...no!
That's not what I'm here living for!
Oh! Oh! ...un uh...no!
That's not what I'm here living for!
Oh! Oh! ...un uh...no!
I'm not into charity, baby.
Or into organized liars...
Looking for a shot of Myers' Rum.
Not into charity, baby.
Naw!
Or into organized liars...
Looking for a shot of Myers' Rum.
Oh! Oh! ...un uh...no!
Oh! Oh! ...un uh...no!
I say ahhh,
Oh! Oh! ...un uh...no!
Not into charity, baby.
Naw!
I say ahhh,
Oh! Oh! ...un uh...no!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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You've Lost Your Way
Lovers in the basement sipping on a cola
their friend goes in to see them
but they don't have to be afraid
I go down the stairwell
I stare at the stairwell
I stare at the girl.
you just have to be who you are
There's no room for liars
there's no room for liars
there's no need for fires
so I won't have to go outside
No one can believe
no one can believe
no one can believe I'm a voyeur.
There is no room for voyeurs
there's only room for disaster
there's only room for you and me
Frances' only sixteen
she's only sixteen
but she's (either sold out or sewn up)
song performed by by Idlewild
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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If They Can Excite Fresh Fish to Bite
I could never trust anyone I knew,
Who told outright lies!
To undo good reputations.
To spew unfounded allegations.
And I have known people who have done this.
Some with unsupported assertions to spread.
Others who quote from scriptures...
Once they have found God,
In the recesses of their thick heads.
While others are much too busy,
Plagiarizing something written or read.
Declaring something profound has been discovered.
And they had been the creator of its inception.
With dates of such theft,
Given for these spurts of mental fantasticness...
Prior to the originator's documented and copywritten,
Certified best!
Some liars are gifted tricksters!
Thusly so with henceforth to conclude...
A stirring up of controversy is solicited.
If they can excite fresh fish to bite!
And liars of all kinds make claims...
Even from behind Maple, Oak and Cherry wooden desks,
And/or pulpits!
They are skilled with one thing on their minds...
To hopefully go to and fro undetected!
If they can excite fresh fish to bite!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Tell Me Your Lies
Tell me your lies,
Dear trusted friend
I like the scorn in your eyes
Like Hell looking for
Souls of the dead
Would you tell me another lie
- my girl?
I like the scorn in your voice
Like a wild fire,
Burning in my heart
And making light
in the dark.
Like a sharp knife
In wicked hands,
Cutting up my heart.
.
Please tell me another lie?
- My dear
At the end, we shall all
Meet at, deads end
Many a flaming
Liars like hell.
poem by Efe Benjamin
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As Is Meant To Be Told
With a silenced mind,
Listen to them find...
Excuses to make for themselves.
And those who make excuses,
To abuse the truth.
Are liars.
With a quiet mind anyone can find,
Those who pretend.
There are ways to deal with people who pretend.
And there are many of them attempting to defend themselves,
With lies they tell on someone else.
Hoping the doing keeps them popular amongst those unknowing,
Them to be chronic liars prepared to always put on a show...
To protect their insecurities and victimizing those that don't know.
The affects of this are all around.
If one's eyes and ears are kept open.
And one's mouth is kept shut.
While listening to things being instantly made up.
Watch them mentally self destruct.
'Who? '
Those who lie and want you to believe them true.
While they continue to make things up,
As often as they do.
And those they've deceived will eventually awaken,
To disbelieve the doers of these misdeeds.
When the pieces are put together to reveal those faking.
There are ways to deal with people who pretend.
Hoping the doing keeps them popular amongst those unknowing,
Them to be chronic liars.
With a watching them mentally self destruct,
And those they've deceived will eventually awaken,
To disbelieve the doers of these misdeeds...
While listening to them talk about themselves too much,
With a passing of judgement and telling of lies on others.
'But...
How do we know them to do these things? '
Those who make excuses,
To abuse the truth...
Are liars.
And...
With a quiet mind anyone can find,
Those who pretend with a defending of themselves against...
Someone who is not around,
More familiar with the telling of truth as is meant to be told.
'Who do you think are those least likely to tell the truth? '
It is in the observation.
Who has difficulty accepting who they are?
Who uses their ethnicity as a fashion statement,
And not a possessed identity?
And who is quick to assess others like themselves,
With comments made that have no dignity?
And those who lie are always the ones self righteous,
Quick to use God as if God is not aware of false tongues.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Buddhist Hell II
Listen, now. There's a Hell
For killing (includes mosquitoes)
A Hell for thieving (not for me!)
A Hell for sexual deviants
A Hell for liars (excludes tactful omissions)
A Hell for drunks;
Oh, and here's something-
A Hell for those holding wrong opinions-
Be careful what you say, though-
It lasts ten-thousand years and burns like-well, Hell;
And a Hell for murderers lasting a whole kalpa-
Don't even ask what that is.
You may return as a marmot,
A coyote, a rat, an eel, or a snake, take your pick,
And for sundry misdeeds
Be crushed, impaled, boiled, quartered, sawn:
A sort of pre-Wolfenden existence-
So count your pebbles carefully, and choose.
Oh, I am more than sure
There are fearful souls whose hearts quake
At the least allegation of wrong-doing:
Who never swear, drink, lust, litter the gutter
With offal, lie at all,
Yet deem themselves lost;
I am equally...
poem by Morgan Michaels
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All Is Truth
O ME, man of slack faith so long!
Standing aloof--denying portions so long;
Only aware to-day of compact, all-diffused truth;
Discovering to-day there is no lie, or form of lie, and can be none,
but grows as inevitably upon itself as the truth does upon
itself,
Or as any law of the earth, or any natural production of the earth
does.
(This is curious, and may not be realized immediately--But it must be
realized;
I feel in myself that I represent falsehoods equally with the rest,
And that the universe does.)
Where has fail'd a perfect return, indifferent of lies or the truth?
Is it upon the ground, or in water or fire? or in the spirit of man?
or in the meat and blood? 10
Meditating among liars, and retreating sternly into myself, I see
that there are really no liars or lies after all,
And that nothing fails its perfect return--And that what are called
lies are perfect returns,
And that each thing exactly represents itself, and what has preceded
it,
And that the truth includes all, and is compact, just as much as
space is compact,
And that there is no flaw or vacuum in the amount of the truth--but
that all is truth without exception;
And henceforth I will go celebrate anything I see or am,
And sing and laugh, and deny nothing.
poem by Walt Whitman
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Lieing Is An Art
It's not that lieing is accepted.
It is the style by which liars choose,
To tell their lies.
First...
Lies told must be convincing.
That means the delivery of them,
Must be polished.
Second...
Presentation.
Ov er-dramatizing?
No.
But eye contact and conviction,
Are most important to heighten delusions.
Third...
And this is extremely important.
Lieing is an art.
Those considering this field of endeavor,
Must practice diligently and with enthusiasm.
There is nothing more disappointing,
Than knowing someone who lies...
But is not entertaining.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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This Festival of Liars Grows
Everywhere in the atmosphere,
The gossip flies as innuendos are told.
And the festival of liars every year gets more bold.
The children are disrespectful.
Their parents more defensive.
They would rather make prison and jail visits...
Than confront the fact,
Not only their kids lack discipline.
Excuse making storytellers,
With no pride that can be seen.
Quick to demean the qualities others express.
While trying to impress with their lack of consciousness.
There is a pitifulness accepted.
With excuses made to protect.
But this festival of liars grows.
And expected like a welcome mat...
When fresh arrivals experience it at everyone's doorstep.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Quiet truth
truth stands quietly by
watching the fabricators of war
continually distort and lie
as their countless victims fight and die
truth cannot be destroyed
or forever abused
political power impotent
to her invincible intent
impassive, eternal
she knows where liars go
consciences afire, burning slow
truth outlasts them, blow after blow
like the shining sun
obscured by dark cloud
truth is still quietly there
though mortal liars be bold and loud
truth has a power all its own
i once read
mess with her
she'll strike you dead
poem by Harlan Simantel
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