A Spirit and a Ghost
Believe,
Why?
Believe its true,
Why?
Believe,
Why?
Believe in the truth,
The truth is a spirit,
A lie is a ghost,
Spirits protect you,
Ghosts haunt you,
Do you want an angel?
Or do you want a spoke?
poem by Jodie Louise Pollock
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Truth Through Repetition
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Truth through repetition Truth through repetition Truth through repetiion
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poem by David Keig
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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(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!
The Truth About Lying
A lie and the truth are one in the same, both are necessary allow me to explain.
Some say the truth will set you free, but that “some” is no part of me.
My truth in your eyes is blasphemy, the truth being that I even lie to me.
Mistakes are errors left uncorrected, also known as opportunities neglected.
The truth is always the first expected. A lie is born from the truth rejected.
Truth is a word so infected by the mouths of those who so diligently protect it.
The very people who refuse to accept it.
My truth is mine and it changes all of the time, thus I protect it by lying.
Not to myself but to everyone else and never with any bad intentions
Never out of disparity for attention, only to avoid a preconceived misconception
poem by Tessa Hanson
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In the Alley of Truth
As I was standing by the hillside
A voice spoke to me
It said this world you have forgotten
Will finally be set free
And I prayed to a spirit
I wasn't completely sure of
But what if I wanted to fall
Instead of come up to find love
Oh, these lies
Killing me
Killing me
Shot dead
Darkness
Oh, it's you
In the alley of truth
I see the sparkle in your eye
You can't deny it
As I spoke to the river
And breathed life to you
You turned your head away
Away from the truth
The truth
The truth
Where can I find the truth?
Is it inside of me?
Where can I find the truth?
Is it here with me?
I can't say
Please don't let me go
I'm lost
Be my light
Be my guide
You are so
poem by Pete Rivera
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Truth Is Wealth
Truth is power, truth is true wealth,
Truth is unequalled ultimate strength,
Truth makes soul its own king
And makes the angels in heaven sing,
Truth is joy, truth is sunshine,
Truth is heart's pristine sheen.
Truth is true friend if we side with it,
And the deadliest foe while stand against it,
Truth strikes terror in law-breakers' heart
And shakes those hearts that go short of it,
For truth is all, truth is tall,
No noble soul ever refrains from its call.
Truth is might, truth is true light,
Truth is the path always is right.
poem by Pratheek Praveen
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I Want to Be True
I don't want to be clever or witty or wise
I just want to be true.
Truth?
Truth was us when, inside me, you looked into my eyes and found my love,
Truth was us when we laughed and played,
Truth was us when you cared too much for me to make love to me,
Truth was us, when knowing me, you were brave in your words and helped me be true.
Truth?
Truth was your tenderness, your joy, your heart.
Truth was my surrender, my giving, my happiness.
Truth was your love, was my love, was the love we created between us.
The truth was our honesty and ease.
Truth?
Truth is the emptiness I feel at my loss of you,
Truth is my naïve hope, all present, that you will come to me,
Truth is the pain at night while I grieve for you,
Truth is my smile and my love playing the memories.
Truth is this moment, the now, the present.
The truth is I had something more than wonderful, and I can't have it anymore.
The truth is I so wish I was with you.
Truth?
So many truths?
I will be true in the moment. x
poem by Susan Cook
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Not All Lives Are Lost
amazing but true,
some lives are not lost,
but found,
a revelation for you...
the truth is out there
waiting to be found
information not newly disclosed
revealing of previously hidden secrets?
know truth and the truth will set you free
I am the way the truth and the life
the spirit of the truth which the world cannot receive
because it neither beholds it or knows it
‘No one comes to the Father except through me’.
‘Yet as for me, I will exult... joyful in the God
of my salvation’. Truth who can know truth?
poem by Terence George Craddock
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The Honest Truth
the truth is i love you
the truth is i always dream of you at night
the truth is i do my best to hide it from you
the truth is the future is blank without you
the truth is i am hurting
the truth is i am scared
i am scared how i pretend in front of everyone
the truth is a cannot tell anyone of this
the truth is i cannot even tell you
then it starts to hurt even more
the truth is i'm scared to tell you
the truth is you might be scared to break her heart
the truth is i'm scared you might love me too
the truth is i am not happy
the truth is i don't feel the love i want
the truth is i want to be loved by you only
the truth is you're too blind to see
the truth is you might not believe me if i told you
the truth is you might be scared of it
the truth is the emotional distance kills me
the truth is being close to you makes it worse
should i tell you this truth?
would you believe this truth?
the truth....the truth....the truth...
i'm the only one who knows the
and this truth hurts
because the truth is i love you
the truth is i love you
the truth is i still love you....
03 August 2010
poem by Neo Patricia Monamodi
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What To One Is Truth
The truth can be hurtful when spoken without ruth
But then suppose the truth it is the truth
And one lie leads to another it is said
And deceit can only live where truth is dead
But what to one is truth to another is not so
Why this should be you ask one who might know
You ask some how good is that and they say great
Whilst others answer only second rate
We all do look at life quite differently
And what's true to you may not be true to me
Though what's true to me may not be entirely so to you
To the higher self we should try to stay true
And though it's praises we may like to sing
The raw truth it can prove a hurtful thing.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Speak the truth and you'll be heard.
She told me she cared,
I knew she lied,
She told them she cared,
They knew she lied,
She said she wanted me to be the best,
I knew she lied,
She said to them she wanted me to be the best,
They knew she lied,
She whispered she loved me,
I knew she lied,
She whispered to them she loved me,
They knew she lied,
She pretended everything when I was there,
She pretended to love me,
She pretended to care,
She said she wanted me to be happy,
We all knew the truth was not what she speak,
We all knew the truth was just about to leak,
We all knew the truth would come out,
We all knew the truth, with no doubt,
She was just like the people surrounding,
Pretending, acting, lying,
So the truth is what I spoke when I spoke to her,
I told her the truth is true, the truth is fair,
I told her...
If it's a lie, don't say another word,
However, speak the truth, and you'll be heard,
To lie to someone who truly loves you for you,
Is one of the most cruel things you can ever do,
To let them believe what you say to them is true,
When really all your thinking about is you, you and you.
poem by Jodie Louise Pollock
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Paradox of Truth
The most subtle lies art the greatest truth
Like the fairy tales of our imaginative youth
Each truth a paradox, a lie does tell
A truth somewhere in mythical spell
When one lies, truth still speaks
For in everything doth truth seek
To express itself to hearts to behold
The truth of life in every lie told
Told in such eloquent song
There is truth in something especially wrong
Rhetoric, myths, ignorance and lies
Truth in all, every truth belies.
If thou don't believe it is certainly true
For to believe is true to me and you
And in this poem if you believe no truth
Let this poem be truth's own proof….
poem by Kevin Michael Murphy
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Glee -- The Ghosts
In life three ghostly friars were we,
And now three friarly ghosts we be.
Around our shadowy table placed,
The spectral bowl before us floats:
With wine that none but ghosts can taste,
We wash our unsubstantial throats.
Three merry ghosts--three merry ghosts--
three merry ghosts are we:
Let the ocean be Port, and we'll think it good sport
To be laid in that Red Sea.
With songs that jovial spectres chaunt,
Our old refectory still we haunt.
The traveller hears our midnight mirth:
"O list!" he cries, "the haunted choir!
"The merriest ghost that walks the earth, "
"Is sure the ghost of a ghostly friar."
Three merry ghosts--three merry ghosts--
three merry ghosts are we:
Let the ocean be Port, and we'll think it good sport
To be laid in that Red Sea.
poem by Thomas Love Peacock
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Her Truth
Your truth claims to be a reality
While her truth is the reality
Your truth is just another fallacy
While her truth states actuality
Your truth tries to call her an insurgent
Just another agent
Trying to spread hatred
When her truth really speaks for those you have murdered
For those you denied existence
After they fought for their freedom
Went to the streets to express their position
And you accused them of being destroyers
Ended their lives like they worth nothing
Your truth tried to oppress them
Suppress their voices
While her truth spoke for them
Went to the squares screaming for their liberty
Fighting for their authority
Your truth is only believed by those who shared your earnings
Those who sold their souls for the Benjamins
Used religion, race and lies to serve your purpose
While her truth refused to take it all
Her truth was so pure it refused to sell the martyrs blood
Your truth has become so little
So her truth rose above it and took over the scene
Your truth was caught out
Your truth was discovered
More and more are finding her truth
Seeing the Real Truth
And yours, of course, just wished it would have listened…
poem by Jacob Arden
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The Other Side for M Lady Tara
Two little ghosts out walking at night
When one little Ghost cried out in fright
Oh Dear I think I see a man.
He’s over there I’m sure I can
The other ghost says you cannot do
there are no men they are not true
Just old Ghosts tales to frighten you
and if they were what could they do
There are no men there never was
I know that’s true because.
My old professor told me so
and he was clever he should know.
The whole idea amuses me
A living man you’ll never see
(Apr 04)
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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The Truth It Can Be Hurtful
I may not like what you say of me but if of me you speak the truth
Though the truth it can be hurtful if it is not spoken without ruth
The truth cannot defame me if of me the truth you say
And if the truth taints my character well that too is okay.
But if you tell lies about someone and know them to be lies
Then the dislike I'd feel for one like you i barely could disguise
For lies can be defamatory when used in such a way
Any respect to a malicious liar i would find hard to pay.
The truth it can be hurtful as we all ought to know
But out of the truth it can be said respect for one does grow
And though you may not like what's said about you at least what's said is true
And to the one who speaks the truth credit is always due.
The truth it can be hurtful but the truth is never wrong
And those who cannot accept the truth mentally cannot grow strong
And though for some the truth is poison they'd rather live a lie
The truth lives on forever and the truth will never die.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Spirits?
Though I've never seen one exactly
I've encountered some evil presence
The very sense of it overwhelms me
But with God, Fear lurks in absence.
Spirits of dead are mere wanderers
Some are evil and utterly vicious
Some are more harmful than the others
And some possess humans for their use.
The spirits who protect us are angels
And the spirits who harm us are vile
Some in realms of government control
And some enthroned in fake piety's style.
Spirits of the dead they call 'ghosts'
They seem to avoid me and hide
They're the ones I would like to ask most
What they felt at the moment they died.
For you see, I am quite prepared
To meet that old man with the sickle
For Death is the one Jesus dared
Over which He proved He was able.
That Jesus Who now lives in me
Has power over all of these spirits
At the mention on His Name they flee
For they know there's just One Holy Spirit.
poem by Cynthia Buhain-Baello
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Relying On The Holy Spirit
The Holy Spirit is enough for me, as I’ve been sealed for eternity,
Sealed, by The Spirit of Christ, with His guarantee of Eternal Life;
The Spirit, the only teacher I need, as Truth, He helps me to heed,
Guiding me through all my days, for Christ’s Glory and His Praise.
For The Spirit opened my eyes, to discern Truth from Satan’s lies,
Teaching me the Ways of God, while led by Christ’s staff and rod,
Growing in His Truth and Love, assisted by His Spirit, from above,
Teaching me God’s Truth day to day, as I travel life’s Narrow Way.
It’s the work of God’s Holy Spirit, to shed light on Truth as I hear it,
Revealing Truths, that I never heard, from God’s Holy, Living Word.
From The Truth, revealed to men, by God’s Spirit, I am Born Again,
Believing in Christ and Him alone, I became one of God’s very own.
As God’s Spirit led me to believe, The Truth of God I would receive,
Believing the Saving Truth of Christ, I received in the Spirit New Life,
And at that very time and place, my life was changed, by His Grace,
Never again would it be the same; all by the power of Christ’s Name.
It is in Christ, that I now abide, through The Spirit, Who dwells inside,
And in God’s Spirit, I fully rely, in the same power from God on high,
Sent to comfort Children of God, while they journey this earthly sod,
Who will also, soon snatch us away, to Heaven on that Glorious day.
(Copyright ©06/2010)
Truth Is Truth
Truth is
Weapons can not cut you
Fire can not burn you
Water can not wet you
Wind can not dry you
And You are in truth
You are the truth
2
I know truth is
Imperishable
I know truth is
Indefinable
I know truth is
Eternal
Pursuing truth
I know Truth is
Final.
3
Truth
We must recognized
Truth
Always present
And untruth has
No existence.
poem by Gajanan Mishra
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The War of the Ghosts
Three Ghosts that haunt me have I,
Three Ghosts in my soul that fight,
Three grandsire Ghosts in my soul,
That haunt me by day and by night.
The first was a dark mountaineer,
Who hunted with arrow and knife,
To whom the turf was a bed,
And the wind of the moorland was life.
And the next was a mariner rude,
Whose home and whose grave was the sea,
For whom the land was a prison
And only the ocean was free.
And the last was a shrunken recluse,
Who lived with the dust and the gloom
And wrote of the Saints and of Him
Who went for us to His doom.
And all through the days and years
These ancient Ghosts contend,
And my soul is a battle-field
Of passions that pierce and rend.
And whenever a sunbeam alights
All gleaming and fresh on my page,
I am wild for the hills and the bush,
I am torn with the hunter's rage.
I am sick of the smell of a book,
I am off with the dogs or a gun,
Or I gallop my fifty miles
Before the set of the sun.
And yet from some loftier peak
When I look on the sea from afar,
I feel like one in a grave;
And I long for a ship full-sailed
And an ocean wide on the lee
I choke on the solid land
For the lift of the undulant sea.
Yet ever the battle goes on,
And ever there rises a day
When the Ghosts of the wave and the wood
To the Ghost of the cell give way.
Then the land is a wilderness drear,
And dismal and vast is the sea,
But cloistered in peace with my books
My soul is uplifted and free.
Three Ghosts that haunt me have I,
Three Ghosts in my soul that fight,
Three grandsire Ghosts in my soul,
That haunt me by day and by night.
Yet ofttimes there joins in the fray
One gross and sluggish of limb,
No spectre is he but a man,
Whose strokes are heavy and grim.
For a man is not nothing, I swear,
Nor a braggart am I when I boast
That though he be slothful or sleep,
A man is more than a ghost.
And my soul is my own, I aver,
The master and lord of it I,
And whenever I will to bestir,
All ghostly usurpers shall fly.
Then I what is mine will assume,
Nor diverge from the path of my will.
Though the Ghosts I have routed still call
From the desk and the sea and the hill.
poem by William Gay
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John 4: 23-24
The hour comes,
And now it is;
Where the true worshippers will worship in Spirit and Truth! !
For, Yahweh is a Spirit Being;
And, those who worship Him must worship Him in Spirit and Truth!
Just as written in 'John 4: 23-24'.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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