I’m Telling You The Truth Is a Lie

I cannot find a place to lie.
To finally rest for once.
And feel my body,
Rather than aches and age.
This is all I ask.

I cannot find a place to lie.
Where every word and
All my deceit is believed.
I can be the person I am not.
This is all I want.

So, how can I know,
If what you ask,
Is really what you want?

The Life of a True Story

His strong lonely voice
Rolled across the air.
Leaving invisible images
On our listening minds.
Never wanting the end.

Time slipped past.
No one really noticed.
A few words changed.
Names gained some letters.
Still in a different shape,
The story remained.

Walls grew up.
Trees fell down.
And tradition dictated,
To so many eyes,
That is what happened.
It is how it has always been.

That one day.
No one is left
To remember, the
Bold voiced man
Who created characters
From very thin air.

You Thought My Path In Life

You talk.
So much.
My dearest friend.
That I have run
Out of paper,
And ink,
To record each
Precious word.
My poor hand is
Worn to tough leather.
From being your
Adoring scribe.

You share.
Too much.
My dearest friend.
That with each
Mark and scratch,
As incomplete as
They may be.
I have stolen enough
From your mind.
To ensure my fame
For many a year
And more.

Every Cloud In a Dark Sky

Oh yes.
It rains here
Every day.
He said.
While smiling.
Or crying.
I could not
Tell in the
Rage of falling
Crystals.

What we have done,
To make the sky fall.
A god heave and sob.
Or that demon spit.
We do not know.

But I carry on.
For one day,
There will
Be sun
Through the rain,
And I will
Finally see
That rainbow.

Are Your Thoughts Your Own, Do You Think

You say I missed the
Point.
Again.
Indeed I did.
But for once
With intention.
For I found the handle.
Attached to the point.
And with a little more
Looking.
The glove, the arm.
A cloaked body that
Held it.
But there my courage
Failed me.
I was too weak
To lift the light.
And see if it
Was a puppet,
Or a master
Stood before me.