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Best Truth Poems

Below are the all-time best Truth poems written by Poets on PoetrySoup. These top poems in list format are the best examples of truth poems written by PoetrySoup members

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New Truth Poems

Don't stop! The most popular and best Truth poems are below this new poems list.

The Way, The Truth and The Life by McConnell, Gordon
The Call Of Truth by RAHMAN K, SANAH
Truth In The Morning by Crytzer, Fritz
Truth Tells Every Man by Golden, Gregory
Eventually the truth gets reveled by BArnabas, teddy
The Truth by Ibrahim, Sara
NWO - Searching for Truth by Fame, Frankii
Nude Truth by Tennakoon, Udaya R.
The anchor of all Moral truth by Tesfaye, Haile
THE TRUTH HURTS by curtis futch jr, kurtis scott aka

View all new Truth Poems

The Best Truth Poems

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EDUCATED

He reads voraciously

to his young children,
beguiled, somewhat bewildered 
by sweet progeny's relentless 
leaching of his words, his hungry baby 
birds, how their peeps teach.

He reads sporadically
 
to his father, articles from the paper, 
headlines and bylines for his dad 
has cataracts, now, and velum 
hands shake newsprint, make a rattling 
sound, too like the quiver of cloistered 
skeletons,  all those remains, 
                          all those remains.
There is wisdom in comics, he's found, 
bucolic rings so like old church bells,
tutoring fields through fog.

He still tries to read

his wife,
shared history in eyes,
the geography of long sighs, that topography 
of belly,  yes, yes, a theology 
that spills from parted lips;
bless each rumpled sheet, that chemistry 
which repeats poetry, spoken 
                         in a dialect, so rare. 


He remembers reading an encyclopedia 

in the face of a beggar, once, 
prophetical sparks from high brows — 
crossed currents;  a lifetime recorded, 
an unbound edition, A through Z
but when he carefully turned to C,
he'd found a full entry 
on compassion and charity.

Soon, he'll no longer read music notes

through a soft blur, playing guitar 
for one a thousand times more educated 
then he, this twelve year old girl, 
this preteen, dying, her heart 
an open lecture hall, her smile, 
pure academia. May she ever be 
opus angelorum, that reaches, 
will ever reach, far past 
                        mere hospice walls.






Copyright © Cyndi MacMillan | Year Posted 2014

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Too Much Sadness for Me

there's too much sorrow...
don't you know
we are all going to die
a starting point always beckons a finish
sooner or later
no matter how
peaceful or painful
that final moment may be
you see...
it will come
for you
for me

There's too much sorrow
war
betrayal
so much I have seen
sickness sapping away
the mother-daughter moments
meant for me...
She struggled bravely
to set my fears free
But MS wouldn't let her be
My Mama left me

There is too much sorrow
the pain of being unloved
of trying to fit in
of trying to play the game
of success and fame
it all comes at a cost
so much is lost...
sacrificial moments
meant for family

There is too much sorrow
refugee misery
nowhere to be
no home
no destiny
just abject poverty
hearts left hungry
for a love
that the world
will not let them see

There is too much sorrow
tonight my heart is heavy
I'm tired of goodbyes
I'm tired of trying to fit in
I'm tired of pretense
I'm tired of...me

There is too much sorrow
Eyes are blurring
I can't see
the last lines I'm meant to write
Too tired to fight
Survival more than it's pumped up to be

Sleep....obliviousness of a dream
sweet it seems to me
you see...
There is too much pain
So write...
write for me
of happy
of make believe
of heaven
and eternity
of no pain
or misery
of no abuse
or fatality
of no tears
or cruelty
no more death
for you
no more death
for me
can't you see?

Write of happy...

Please, there is too much sadness here
for me....

Eileen Manassian Ghali


Copyright © Eileen Manassian | Year Posted 2015

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The Brave

The brave are more than ones who battle on
in fields of warfare, showing valor true
The brave are more than those that wars have won
There is a truth that must enlighten you:

the ones who fight the battles in their minds
who daily strive to keep their fears at bay
the ones who chose to draw away the blinds
and force themselves to face another day

the ones who have the courage to keep sane
are ones who need the medals to reveal
that they are striving hard to deal with pain
though they are taught their battles to conceal

The brave are those who struggle to survive
They are the ones who fight to stay alive!

Eileen Manassian





Copyright © Eileen Manassian | Year Posted 2016

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Toddler Sky

-Toddler Sky-

Down where I sleep, 
You hold me, embrace my every way
The Marks up on my skin
You caress, taking away from the ugliness

Watching the simple breath, when I breathe
Breaking the ice, soothing my inner peace
A sweet spray across the paleness in my limbs
Holding the warmth, I've been loved throughout my life.
From picking up sticks to the walking stick
My loving dear I know you will always be there
A few wheel chairs, when broken bones mend
You know my every cure*
Walk with me across the hall
Through the oldness, and the boldness of every color in the sky
Thank you for taking me as I am
A light twinkle' every time I feel the colors of the rainbow drip
Now a newborn takes his form
In you I find the strength to stretch my arms and reach for every star

When happy moments fail, 
I embraced the colors I found in you
I make out every tree, and wonder why and how?
I close my eyes to imagine the fun of chasing fireflies
Tonight I'm keeping my prayers simple, cute, and innocent
I will count sheep and search for sweet lullaby dreams
Smiling like a 3 year old this very moment, 
You think I'm having "Baby Blues."
My loving dear, thanks for having patience,
Painting my way down a toddlers sky
Every time  "P M S" hits

~SKAT~


Copyright © SKAT A | Year Posted 2013

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Always Yours

The handwriting became darker,
And I imagined your hands pressing upon the page,
Wavering whether to write your thoughts or not
Soon, sure, the wavering became conviction,
And in your mind you decided to write,
“Always yours”

Tears sprung from my eyes,
As convicted as your burdened letters

I condemned myself to love again,
How cruel the ink seeped into my marrow
To flitter and flutter upon mere words on a page
Words with promises, confessions, and affection
I could barely read through the gasps of my soul,
The screaming of my mind, and the bleeding of my heart
“Always yours” . . .

Do not inflict me like the plague, oh destroyer!
Do not soon crawl into these open arms
That would not dare push you away
I will love you till the days swallow me whole,
Till the light in you bellows cold with indifference! 

We are words, my corresponding dear, 
Deepening upon a page about to break
We are words, nothing more,
That are always, 
Always Yours 


Copyright © Laura Breidenthal | Year Posted 2015

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One World

Love is not a color,
No hue, neither a race.
All of our blood is the same, 
That runs deep within our veins.

If we could lift up each other,
And know that we all care.
If we help our sisters and brothers,
There's a bond that we'll share.








©2013 Honestly JT


Copyright © Honestly J.T. | Year Posted 2013

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A Reminder: To Be


Those of you with a unique voice,
with a vision painted outside the lines of over-regulated cadence and rhyme,
I implore you to continue exploring a core
that is fearless in writing against the grain of convention --
for this very friction is a sandpaper helping to perpetually re-invent 
yourself by smoothing your raw, unfiltered passion
into a timeless chair in which people of the future will sit in
while reading your poetry ....

.... and their brows will crease, their eyebrows will arch into gates
where sighs of enlightenment will pass through,
for they are reading poetry that has not lost its novelty,
nor is it mimicry: a despondent, washed-out version
of 20 million other identically tired poems already written and read.

If you feel yourself being sucked down by the undertow 
of homogenization, fight against the current, drag yourself onto shore,
let sunlight percolate pure word-intentions from the nucleus 
of your ancient psalm-writing ancestry.

Your ancestors left behind DNA building blocks,
disciplinary examples and practices 
with which to construct mitochondrial drift
that bridges together the past and future
into a runway for you to take-off from
after the training wheels have been removed,
and gain a bird's eye view of what was,
what will always be sacred but not yours to build a mynah nest in
once truth's marrow is tasted from its winged divine inspiration --
a bird's eye view lifting above carbon-copy complacency.

To always be the freedom that manifests your luminous originality.




September 18th, 2013

*Author's Note: This piece isn't about writing in form or not writing in form. 
To ass.u.me such, is being short-sighted.

Having been a member here for years now, I have noticed a recurring phenomenon 
on this site. Many times, new members join who showcase a freshness, a sharp distinction in their style and poetic voice. They are a breath of fresh air for this site 
to breathe in. Over time, one can literally watch some of these members begin to homogenize themselves into a more general, stale style of writing. I am not sure 
wot all the variables are for this phenomenon, and it likely differs according to each experience. Depending on circumstance, I can only speculate the reasons why some people are willing to compromise their distinctness on this site. Maybe sometimes it happens because of entering too many contests? Of wanting to fit in with the flock?

When I do see it happen, I want to yell: "No, no, no! Stop! Please don't do it! Turn 
back while you still have the chance! Please don't compromise your distinctness for some inane contest .jpegs and congratulations, or insincere, back-patting comments. One sincerely inspired comment, is worth more than 10,000 petty comments -- worth 
so much more."





+/-


Copyright © Chris D. Aechtner | Year Posted 2013

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The Pain Game

Why do people, want to cause
Other people pain
Where is the Love 
That will break the chain

Someone says something
Then it's tit-for-tat
I've played this before
We all know the score
Now who's up at bat

I think it's time, for us to play
The self healing game
Before there's no one, left
Around to blame

One that's more thoughtful
And much less insane
Let's reach for the Sun
And help everyone
Come out of the rain

All we have, is this fleeting chance
To get this right
No time for jealousies 
No time to fight

Don't say, that you're sorry
Don't seek to forgive
Just start here today
And throw it away
And learn how to live
 






Copyright © Jerry T Curtis | Year Posted 2014

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read this please

They hate you because your you
They make up lies and call it true
They're fake behind your back
Hoping someday that you'll crack.

They hate you because your real.
no matter what they say you always heal
They're surprised to see you rise,
That you're not affected by all these lies


They hate you because you smile at them
It shows them that your a real gem
You are always true and do your best :)
Sometimes these haters just cant test

They hate you for no reason
Despite it all, you smile
whatever the reason
At the end of the day
All i'm gonna say
All i plan to be 
IS ME


-Sanderline Fleury :)


Copyright © Sanderline Fleury | Year Posted 2013

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Call Me Insensitive

You call me insensitive,
But I don't believe that's true;
Because, you see,
It's all about me.
It's not about you.

You say your opinion doesn’t matter,
That I’ve no respect for your point of view;
But I do if we agree,
Because it’s all about me.
It’s not about you.

You say I’ve no compassion,
No feelings for your troubles or your blues;
But none of us is issue free,
And mine are all about me;
But…not about you.

A time old adage, 
“To thine own self be true.”,
Is all about choices you see.
My choices are all about me,
And, certainly, not about you.

So, when free or forced to make your choices
You’ll understand and know it’s true 
To decide what will or will not be,
Won’t be at all about me;
It will be all about you

But special moments confront each of us,
When what matters isn’t “Me”.
And while these moments are few,
They’re not about me, not about you.
For a time, it’s all about “We.”

Yes, “…no man is an island.”
Is a valid point of view;
But if it’s not about “We”, 
Then it’s all about me.
Sorry.  It’s not about you.


Copyright © Robert Candler | Year Posted 2014

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The Truth About Truth -

Truth burns at the center of all occurrance,
it is a heat that motivates appettites to enlarge,
truth is a multiplier of quests, 
satisfaction always arrives at the porch of a new path,
truth does not reveal endings, only beginings that behave
like currents pushing towards a shore,
truth demands stamina from the finder as well from the seeker,
it dashes in delight from the tired,
indolence receives no invitation from truth because laziness is a debtor,
a fish with no gills,
credit walks not from the bank steps of truth,
one must exchange, transact with it, as wanting is to worth,

Truth holds strength in one hand and suffering in the other,
He gives quarter and meal to surviving artificers who are organizing
their talents for future enterprise,
to the brigand and beggar He puts on a pewter plate
bland beans representing distance,
disillusionment preceeds the knowledge of utility because
new truth means fallacy is an ancestor,

an anthropologist is truth, observing your traits,
orbiting the ability of your judgement,
some of Truth's revelations are more expensive than others,
sometimes He will take your Past and grin like a haughty antique dealer,
truth will invest in your Future as a gambler revisits old glory
speaking fresh fortunes in cold ears,

He is an opportunist incessantly offering information for spirit,
without the ignorant truth becomes a vagabond in a vineyard of sweet rust,
the secret of truth is that it is ours
if we wish to be honest with ourselves,
truth is the inheritence of the strong who know how to make it,
oppossed to those waiting for it -

J.A.B.


Copyright © Justin Bordner | Year Posted 2012

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Speak up

When you take a stand and say what you choose,
Without hesitation, or being confused,
Not holding a fear of what others may say,
But to say what you mean in every way,
It liberates your soul, by setting you free,
No longer a prisoner of insecurity,
But a teacher to others who sometimes hold back,
By seeing in you the strength that they lack,
Releases their fears and doubts that they hold,
And helps them now see its ok to speak bold,
Just do it with dignity, kindness and love,
Give all of your fears to our friends up above,
Don’t compromise yourself to collude with the rest,
Speak truth in your words and remain at your best,
If others don’t like the control that they lack,
Because of your strength to speak truth and talk back,
Let that be their issue, don’t lose who you are,
Keep making that stand and you’re sure to go far.
We all have the right to express our beliefs,
Our ideas, opinions, happiness and grief,
But we must allow others to do just the same,
Respect them and their wishes without drama and pain.
To allow them to shame you or belittle your voice,
Says “its ok I don’t mind” like you don’t have a choice,
And the more you keep quiet, the more they control,
Giving up who YOU are so that THEY can feel whole.
It just doesn’t make sense to allow this to be,
I'm no better then you, but your no better then me.
So keep trying hard to find that strength deep within,
And Let old habits go, so new ones can begin.
 


Copyright © Teri Hopkins | Year Posted 2012

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I BELIEVE

Honesty Cross your heart and hope to die* Speak the truth and look directly into someone's eyes Then the world will know you are not lying * this was a phrase we used as children to say we were being truthful 11~20~14 Contest: Didactic Sponsor Regina Riddle ~awarded 5th place


Copyright © JAN ALLISON | Year Posted 2014

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The Simple Pen

            The Simple Pen

I am but a simple man with pen in hand
To cut open a slice of universe with verse
And with the ink
Let it bleed not red
It flows instead with mortal colors
Over a life well spent
What is left over
We drink this in a cup
Pour more to fill it up
But little at a time
Too much reality can cloud your mind
Said the simple man with bleeding pen

Entered in Tyshawn Knight's - "Advice for New Writers: Words of Wisdom in Verse" Poetry Contest on 6/02/15 
  

 


Copyright © Earl Schumacker | Year Posted 2014

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True God

Awakening morning darkness falls heavy clouds
walking outside stretching in deep thought 
Firstly alone dreaming in freedom love 
Looking into the mountains a prayer

Faraway winds howling cry out
snow capped peaks cold reminder
a silver chain running down the face 
The truth always shines its light in the end 

Heavy rains wet upon the brow 
why has life been so cruel to me 
I never chose this path holding  no demons 
condemned in lies with pain and suffering

All one showed was the face of good 
even helping people in the streets 
who almost destroyed my home 
I had forgiven everyone as God is my witness

D-day looms heavy 
the Devil spits his lies 
yet sitting on his fork one will find truth
How could another human be so vile 

To condemn someone 
on a story that has just been made up
never have I stolen from anyone in my life 
in fact the opposite money root of evil I see

Living humble and meek 
has taught me wisdom of my ways 
nature talks to me in winds whispering 
Some walk this earth to be persecuted in the wrong

Proof that justice sometimes fails the innocence
we all are sinners looking down 
at the cold face chiseled in truth
but to bear falsely on someone 

Somethings I will never understand 
You saved me Almighty Lord 
When tortured pleaded in your Heavenly name
Saved my family from Hell

A miracle of life you gave back to me 
I began writing expelling my demons 
Now judgement day is falling upon me 
Oh Heavenly Father save me in my innocence 

And the tears keep falling 
for the love of truth 
what is wrong with this world 
sometimes they are bind to the facts 





Copyright © liam mcdaid | Year Posted 2014

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I Need Time to Heal

Tell me why, but tell me True-
Spare me the heartbreak of a Lie
I would lay forever in these meadows...
Forever, until I die!
To rid myself of all the Pain,
And the Sorrows of what I feel
To ease my Mind, my worried Brain
(Lord! The Cuts! I need to heal)

*Referring to my problems with "Borderline Personality Disorder"; many of us are "cutters"


Copyright © Just That Archaic Poet | Year Posted 2013

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It's Okay

It’s okay to leave the dishes in the sink,
to wash your hands with sanitizer instead of soap.
Your mother will joke
about how it doesn’t get your hands clean enough
but when was the last time you listened to her anyway.
It’s okay to cry today,
to use your sleeve instead of tissues.
It’s okay to take that thing that hurt you
and throw it out of the moving car,
just don’t go back to pick it up,
it’s not lost luggage,
it’s buried tumors.
It’s okay to hate God today,
to change his name to yours,
to grab the headstone with your mitten covered hands
and try to knock it over.
Throw the snow at it,
the roses have died.
It has been too long since the passing,
but I give you permission to hate God today.
It’s okay to break into the liquor cabinet
and medicate peacefully,
to drink too much sometimes
and not know where you’ve been
because you’ll eventually find yourself.
It’s okay to walk alone sometimes,
sort your thoughts,
to clear the air with air,
and dry the wounds with salt.
It’s okay to climb into bed early
and stare at the ceiling,
to just tell yourself that it’s okay.


Bold lines are taken from the poem Letter From My Heart to My Brain by Rachel McKibbens


Copyright © Katie Pukash | Year Posted 2013

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I Will not Break

I will not bow
I will not break
To think I might
Is a mistake

I know the truth
it sets me free
No matter what
you think of me!

Eileen Manassian

Matthew 12:20- One of my favorite Bible verses.

A bruised reed he will not break, and a smoldering wick he will not snuff out, till he has brought justice through to victory.



Copyright © Eileen Manassian | Year Posted 2015

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LIGHT OF TRUTH






 Painful it is for the eyes of ignorance to withstand the light of truth!







(C) Demetrios Trifiatis
       29 January 2016


Copyright © Demetrios Trifiatis | Year Posted 2016

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Beautiful Lies

Stark truth can be unkind and hard to hear,
Not always the best choice for someone dear.
A child who is not blessed with pulchritude,
Need not be told, that would be very rude.
If you must lie a bit to make her smile
That little lie may well be worth your while.
You may just find that tiny slip from truth,
When you have said the fairy has her tooth,
Will not be held against you in the end
Nor force you those wide stair steps to descend.
A lie that’s told for lovely, good intent
Is better than the truth with malice sent.

Weigh out your words is my heartfelt advice,
For sometimes truth is not extremely nice.


A Shakespearean sonnet written in Iambic Pentameter


Philosophical theme


Copyright © Joyce Johnson | Year Posted 2012

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Don't Belittle Me

Don't belittle me
For I'm a child of the KING
made in His image
I make His heart sing

Don't belittle me
For I'm made by His hands
and though I'm not perfect
My weakness He understands

Don't belittle me
Even if I belittle you
Know that I'm sinful
Show me a love that's true

Don't belittle me
Don't make my heart to break
I face a struggle or two
That would cause your heart to ache

Don't belittle me
I try to hold on to life
So don't let what you say
Add a burden or bring on strife

Don't belittle me
But be..a little...me
Try to feel the way I feel
Try to see what I see

Don't belittle me
Give me a little love
For if you're the better one
He'll reward you from above...

Please....Don't...Belittle...Me!

Eileen


Copyright © Eileen Manassian | Year Posted 2016

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Draining experience - flying the coop contest

Been eating medusa dates
Lovely fat juicy ones
I ate and ate them
Oh my they were so good
Why does my stomach feel queer
I thought the next day 
Oh my! to the bathroom I ran
and sat , and sat and sat
Dare not leave, was in a quandary
The estate agent was calling in an hour
My mam needed a price for probate.
The smell lingered , Febreze Air, or the external fan
Couldn't remove it.
The doorbell went, I went out the back door
Left my mam to apologise, to this day
I do not eat fresh dates. 
Beware of things fat and squiggy nice to eat 
Can lead you into a foul smelly time.

Penned 29 April 2015



Copyright © SEREN ROBERTS | Year Posted 2015

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Lines Written Of A Recurring Ponder

You may not know this,
But sometimes, I sneak 
away from my cynicism,
and see through my vehement
in self loathing, to uncover
the tender optimism of 
my former self, reminiscing
of elated memories, that I
over time, forgot belonged to me,

As I see us, my mind captures the
image, in hopes of warming my 
essence, but the thought of
holding this picture, is inferior
to the risk of learning to smile again,
To smile and relish in a moment
that cannot be willed into reality,
despite the sincerity of a heart's desire,

Secretly, the vision of your beauty
belonging to me, releases melted
fragments of my heart through my 
eyes, I shamefully wipe away such
signs of sorrow, and tell myself you
were "just a girl" but all of me
knows better, for the truth of your
importance is a factor unimaginable,

I cannot tell you that you were the
best of me, created out of prayer,
and wished into reality, or that my
eyes still remain closed until yours
sees sunlight, or that it was your
love alone, which gave me hope,
taught me faith, and filled my being
with the invincibility of a deity,

Such delicate confessions should
remain silent to your ears, and ears
of the world, for within them lies
the truth of a sorrow unseen by humanity,
and the power to allow this elation to
again grant me immortality, an everlasting
life in which I could only agonize over
a paradise unreachable, and the fruitless
fantasy of a raisin in the sun,


Copyright © Audonus Taylor | Year Posted 2010

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Beautiful Mirrors

Mirror mirrors show me mine, 
reflect to me the pure divine~

If my view of you is clouded and dim, 
I have thrown myself on the altar of sin~

If I perceive in your heart only darkness and death, 
I have stolen the fragrance of Spirit’s sweet breath~

If beauty be seen and echoed through you, 
my healing is sure and my vision so true~

If you unfold yourself and are open to me, 
I will not mirror your lies or the guilt that you see~

If your mind filters not the depth of my story, 
you will fall in my eyes and at once know your glory~

You will see the true purpose for the seeds you have sown~
You will witness the Divine in my eyes as your own~

How could I not know you, for I now see you clearly~?
How could I not hold you and love you so dearly~?

The illusion of borders between you and I 
is the reason, the cause, and the root of the lie~

Copyright © Satprem 2015


Copyright © Mark Roske | Year Posted 2015

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The Old Prospector, The Crazy Old Fool

The Old Prospector, The Crazy Old Fool

Folks said that nasty fool is a damn old bat
times the bastard knows not where he is at
Rumor is he lives in shame for murdering a man
eats lizards and snakes, drinks from rusty can

He eats snails, claiming it slows his pain
wore a sombrero, his umbrella for the rain
Chewed on his grubby food lightning fast
swore hell was his garden if it only last

Claimed he slept on a pleasant cactus bed
had genius ideas always running in his head
Knew the earth was only alien hunting ground
had hid every strange thing he ever found

On cold nights slept naked as he could be
swore it put better leaves on his tree
Always used a large rock for his pillow
ate boiled bark from his weeping willow

When asked how he knew this earth was flat
said, if were round I not be where I am at
Kept a rattle snake for his waking alarm
declared it to be a friend doing him no harm

Yet when he passed on they soon did find
not all was crazy as all hell in his mind
For hidden under his massive cactus bed
buried deep were 700 bars not of lead

Gold this old timer had been finding there
his crazy act was to keep all thieves unaware
Gold mine hidden underneath his shabby shack
tunnel underground to rocky hill outback

Lawyers found that he had a grandson at Yale
claimed to be an orphan was his tale tale
He had paid that boy's way into a great life
making sure the kid experienced no strife

His hoard tallied out to be five million bucks
mine still producing hauled out by trucks
Town-folks all were shocked and so damn amazed
this old man they had thought to be so crazed

In his will he left a note for his tombstone,
Hell with you fools, my old tired ass is gone!
I had fun seeing what dumbasses you all were
my trick playing you ALL caused a big stir

Grandson put the biggest tombstone on his grave
wrote a best selling book on how gramps gave
Exposed the bias of the arrogant fools in town
folks laughed so hard they couldn't put it down!

Robert J. Lindley


Note: Poem is loosely written on the life of an old man about my former home-town, an old man  they all called "Crazy Jim". 
One day, I talked to crazy Jim, he stopped acting crazy walked about town with me a teenager explaining all about the places and people for the last 40 years there. Not a single crazy word did the man utter. 
As we arrived back where our walk started he shook my hand and said, son I knew your dad well, he was an honest man, a good man. 
Then he walked off jabbering, back into his act...
Later when I told people about it all -none of them believed me... 
I learned that people will absolutely refuse to accept when they've been played for fools. Will prefer to keep believing the lie..


Copyright © Robert Lindley | Year Posted 2015