Tag Archives: lies

Thank God for Chicago…

But if you’re religious, now might be the time to start praying.

I’ve been known to be slightly dramatic. Sometimes I see the way a thing is going, and I tend to predict the worst possible outcome. I’ve been told by some that I’m negative because of it. I suppose, it’s because I see all the possibilities. The little logicians in my brain run the computations and then they decide what the most likely outcome will be. It’s why I held onto hope with the Boy for so long, but it was also why I would sometimes take things in the most negative way possible.

The Boy was fond of pointing that out to me. The Bartender accused me of the same thing yesterday because an incident between us led to me reacting to him the way I would have with the Boy. The post with all the information about that will post later today. I promise.

But the reason I bring all of that up is because my brain logicians are working overtime with what’s going on with Trump.  Continue reading Thank God for Chicago…

Truth an original poem

Truth Maze (An original poem)

Truth wrapped in a silken bow
is no more true than that dipped in gold.
The sugar coating distorts the reality.
It all becomes a form of pretense.

We’ve become accustomed to
the little lies
we tell
to not hurt one another’s feelings:

“No, that doesn’t make you look fat.”
“It’s him, not you.”
“Low Cal foods are better,
–even if they are all chemicals.”
“Yes, I think he’ll be back.”

Around the bend we go,
merrily tripping over little barbs of artifice.
They snag and rip at our truths,
all gilded and shiny,
The truths we show to the world.

Little barbs
in the shape of kind words,
meant to build us up,
scratch and tear at
our “selves”
And we patch them with whatever
vitriol we can find:

“Oh no, of course he isn’t seeing someone else.”
“Yes I’m attracted to you still.”
“It’s only a few pounds,
–you can take them off again.”
“It’s his loss.”

We patch ourselves to hide the scars
To hide the pain
Obscuring the memory of what was and
Replacing it with
What could have been
Until there is no truth to be seen any more.

And through the maze we go.
Making wrong turns
Ripping through our now motley facade
Still searching for a safe place
At the center.

Each new experience a new barb
A new wound
Some barbs remain in our silken bow,
Now tattered and dirty.

Turn after turn,
Misstep after misstep,
Forwards and backwards
And forwards again.

Like Alice through her looking glass
We are the reflections of
the lies we tell:

“I love you.”
“I hate you.”
“I wish to never see you again.”
“I want you in my life.”

Brambles and vines ensnare us
Ripping at our outer selves
Our tarnished, tattered
Until there is nothing left but
A simple chord:

Drab and bland
And completely real.
This is who I truly am.
This is me.

I have found the center.

I came to a place
Where the truth was pure
And my heart
Wept with gladness.