The Problem Is, It Isn’t True

A Poem about Lies, Liars, and Truth

Kernels of Truth
“Kernels of Truth” by Daveblog is licensed under CC BY-NC-ND 2.0

The Problem Is, It Isn’t True

A Poem

By Jane Tawel

October 13, 2020

*

Remember when it was we two,

And we believed we could imbue,

A moral, high-road point of view,

in others and in me and you?

And when someone, a child or friend,

Would through a maze of untruths wend,

I used to say this thing to you:

“The problem is, it isn’t true”.

*

And we would laugh or roll our eyes,

And then to child or friend, advise

Them not the truth to compromise,

 By telling tales or telling lies.

*

Those days are gone and Time has passed,

And I thought we’d all changed at last,

But daily now I am aghast,

How easily Truth is miscast.

And I have found myself in mourning,

At all the lies that round are swarming,

And so, I offer up this warning:

By all means keep your point of view,

But when you think that lies serve you?

Or that from guile, good can accrue?

The problem is, it isn’t true.

*

Yes, lately I have déjà vu,

And my world-view has gone askew,

‘Cuz’ people that I thought I knew,

Support the liars through and through.

I fear they take the overview,

That in the long run lies accrue

The good they think to them is due.

The problem is?  That’s never true.

*

For lies and liars create strife

That have a lasting afterlife.

And nothing can make crooked, true

Unless all of us – me and you–

With humbleness and fortitude,

Change up complacent attitudes.

*

Reject the falsehood of rapacity,

And speak against evil mendacity.

We can not remain dumb and docile,

Nor shun the true Tao of the Gospel.

In Truth plus Love we find capacity,

To have both Goodness and Veracity.

*

We all are tempted to deceive,

And often tall-tales we will weave,

In our attempt to change or woo,

a “someone” that we’re hankering to,

Convince to our skewed point of view.

And I say, “skewed” because my eyes,

Are often blinded to the lies

That I can tell the whole day long,

To keep from saying that I’m wrong.

I like to think I’ve got the facts,

and those who disagree are lax

in proving things that I don’t take to;

And so, I swear ‘til I am blue,

That I am always right; Not you!

The problem is?  That isn’t true.

*

It is so easy to convince,

Myself that it’s okay to mince,

The accuracy of my quarrel.

The problem is? It isn’t moral!

*

We love to praise our own virtue,

Even when wrong, I’ll vanquish you.

And if we tell a lie or two?

So what? Aren’t we entitled to

Our own self-serving point of view?

My lies don’t hurt or effect you!

The problem is? That isn’t true.

For lies and lying hurt us all,

Which has been obvious since The Fall.

Today lies are in full free-fall,

We really must get on the ball,

To right the wrongs and testify

That Truth must live and lies must die.

*

To think we can crush someone’s dream,

To merely win for our own team;

Or that to save sculpture or fetus,

We’ll worship guys who lie and cheat us.

If we keep serving fame and gold,

We’ll find the center can not hold.

For whom we serve, we soon become.

For good or evil, we’ll succumb

To what we’ve hitched our wagon to;

We’ll be the lie, if we shun truth.

*

It’s time that we were all more honest.

Let’s not put up with all this nonsense,

Of fudging on the whole of content

or taking words out of their context.

We take one part and misconstrue.

The problem is, it isn’t true.

*

Our airwaves flow with fierce locution,

That fills weak minds with hate’s pollution,

And falsifies truth’s attribution,

With shallow lies as substitution.

We all must ask for absolution,

For making lies our contribution.

To fix our problems and confusion,

There are more ethical solutions.

Let’s all enhance our elocution

And stop this wreck of devolution.

By Holy Writ or Constitution —

Let TRUTH lead us in REVOLUTION!

*

So, as I look around me now

I’m truly shocked that we allow,

The people who are charged to lead,

Lie only to protect their greed.

We honor lies and even flatter

The liars and their fibbing patter;

As if the truth no longer mattered.

*

And when I’m super skeptical,

Is when they claim they’re ethical.

We all know Truth is black and white,

Hence, lying just is never right.

No matter when, what, where or who,

We all should have to tell the Truth.

*

When lies and liars are our leaders,

We’ve elevated bottom feeders

And said that somehow we forgive them,

Because we hope our cause outlives them.

But thinking this is so perverse,

That all throughout the universe,

There’s not a god or creed agreeing,

That can to falsehoods grant well-being.

So, all those prayers and thoughts we do

To Gods who see us through and through?

Those prayers are like cud that sheep chew.

God promises that He will spew

From out His mouth, all that’s untrue.

For in Love’s Eyes, it’s not our gains

That will forever long remain,

And hands that sleight,

Won’t see The Light;

For One Day, Love will make Truth, Right.

*

God is not mocked by lies and liars;

He expects us to go higher

Than thinking we can get away

By choosing evil for today,

In some vague hope, Good will ensue,

Despite the fact, it isn’t true.

*

It really is, in fact, medieval,

To think Good ever comes from evil.

Our lies make us much more primeval

And there’s no way for a retrieval,

Of goodness, once we are deceitful.

There has to be world-wide upheaval.

To make the playing fields more equal.

From palace steps to rich cathedrals,

Let Truth ring out from house to steeple!

*

We tell ourselves our cause is just,

And so lies do not matter much;

If later greater good is served,

Then all will get what they deserve;

And then we’ll bid the lies, “Adieu.”

The problem is?  That won’t be true.

(Lies feel so good when I crush you.)

*

For lies are catching, like disease.

When we have learned to, with great ease,

Accept the bullies who deceive;

We’ll never rise above the sleaze.

When we start down that slippery slope,

To gain back truth, we’ve not a hope.

We claim the fall out, we’ll undue.

The problem is, that won’t come true.

It’s not so easy to make right,

The wrongs we do for gain and might.

Once lies escape Pandora’s Box,

One never can turn back the clocks.

Once lying has become addiction,

It’s hard to tell what’s fact or fiction.

We think we will, but we can’t do it.

The line’s perverted; we can’t true it.

*

Let’s start today and take it slow.

Admit there’s things we do not know.

But if we don’t, we have to try

To keep from justifying lies.

If you help me, and I help you,

Together we’ll accept the truth.

And that means we won’t know a lot,

But still we can do what we ought.

*

If we say “Can”, instead of “Cannot”,

We’ll save our neighbors and the Planet.

Wholeness is plausibility,

But not by prideful falsity.

The problem isn’t clarity;

It’s just our fear of verity.

*

By letting liars have their say,

We’ve lost our souls and lost The Way.

We must stand up and must refuse,

To let the lies become our views.

*

It’s up to me and up to you,

and in our own hearts to undo,

this tendency to twist and skew

what simply isn’t really true.

I know it feels good, through and through,

To have our team fill up the pews,

And to believe that we’ll accrue,

Rewards no matter what we do.

The problem is?

It isn’t true.

*

We have to call out all the whoppers,

‘Bout how the rich are treating paupers.

We have to quit our foolish praising,

Of those adept at coarse evading.

We should be shocked at the audacity,

Of perilous and rank mendacity.

What has gone wrong in church and nation,

To cause wide-spread prevarication?

*

The Truth be told, a lie’s a lie.

No wiggle room to comprise.

Each one of us tends to pursue,

Just what we want to think and do.

We tell ourselves that we’ll get through,

And THEN we’ll find new points of view,

And uphold good for me and you.

But we forget the why or how to;

And just like Pilate asked The Good Jew:

“Why not let people crucify you?

Our problem is?

 So? What is Truth?”

*

Tomorrow never comes unless

Today we choose to do our best;

For yesterday is plenty proof,

That lies will never become Truth.

The Path is narrow, and The Way,

Is only clear for just this Day.

Choose Goodness, Love, Humility.

Choose Kindness and Veracity.

And if we tackle this World’s sorrows,

Together we can make tomorrow,

A Time that’s better through and through.

What once was crooked, will be trued.

*

I hope today when I’m enticed,

To make my lies seem like they’re nice,

Or when I try to win or score,

I’ll stop to realize that there’s more,

To being all I’m meant to be;

And I will pause and take a knee.

Not worshipping a flag or book,

But truly taking a hard look

At what is meant to be my role,

In seeking wholeness for my soul.

And that means doing the hard labor,

Of scorning lies, and loving neighbor.

*

And on my knees, I’ll look inside

And realize that I can not hide,

From Truth and Love and Light and You

And that whenever I try to,

I pray that Love will win and woo,

With Words that lovingly undo,

The falsehoods in my own worldview.

*

Today I draw lines in the sand,

For with True Truth, my soul must stand.

Let’s fight the fight, Friend; me and you?

And Right will Win,

For Love is True.

*

Let’s all to others, grace bestow.

Accept there’s much we do not know.

In Truth and Love we all should grow.

The low made high, the high brought low.

And to a Heaven on Earth we’ll go.

The answer is?

May it be so.

© Jane Tawel 2020

This Heart -a poem

This Heart — a poem

by Jane Tawel

“Chasm” by Swissendo is licensed under CC BY-NC 2.0

This Heart

By Jane Tawel

September 7, 2020

*

This heart,

I can not hold.

Its beat escapes me,

Like the sound of a diffident drum.

*

And yet, I long to look somewhere,

to find the source.

In my mirror, perhaps?

Or in the stars or skies, 

or someone’s smile?

In the crevices of my childhood,

awash with bits of benevolence

amidst the scars 

deeper than the chasms of remembered wounds?

*

Or does this heart move and bleed apart from me;

a willing and unwilling partner,

a sometimes pacemaker of my soul,

keeping alive that which measures the motions 

echoed timelessly and in my time,

 in the clefts of consciousness

 chalked with crumbs

of stories, myths, and songs?

A heart may be, as one for all and all for one,

for heroes, villains, and all children born?

*

This heart, hidden in

The girth of eternity — 

I want to wrest it

From my chest

And see there in the last moments,

 the pulsing light of

That organ that best encompasses

The meaning of myself.

*

Not half a brain between us;

my heart and I yearn,

Not for grand ideas or vast knowledge,

But for the scratched-out wisdom

That comes only

With the pain of loss,

The shortness of the season,

And the hope of love.

*

This heart

That throbs foolishly

without sense;

calls to me to free it from

the prison of myself;

opening up riches

from my chest

to bleed its treasures elsewhere.

© Jane Tawel 2020

.

The Emptied Cup — a poem

 

Cups

“Cups” by Bsivad is licensed under CC BY-NC 2.0

 

The Emptied Cup

By Jane Tawel

July 18, 2020

 

*

I felt a great need to share something,

Encouraging, hopeful, or good.

And I racked my mind and rummaged my heart,

And kept telling myself that I should

Find a quote or a saying that would lift people up,

But I found when I looked: there was naught in my cup.

 

*

You know that cup? –the one we all drink from,

That carries our feelings and all that we think of

The world and the people and what might be “out there”;

The cup of our hopes, and our dreams, and our doubts here.

But my cup was plain empty – not a sludge or a dross,

And I asked myself, “Why should I give a darn toss?

No one needs me to rise to this challenge.

No one needs me to weigh into the balance,

Between good and evil, or fear and hope;

I’m obviously empty. I’m one big dumb dope!”

So, I took my cup into my closet and moped.

 

*

I sat in the dark and licked at my bruises,

And felt sorry for me with no insights or muses.

But then a small voice, like the first drop of rain,

Asked me to look in my cup, once again.

And I saw that my cup was still empty and clean,

And I said to the voice, “what the snap do you mean?”

 

*

The Voice said quite faintly, “Dear child, don’t you see?

When your cup is quite empty, I can fill it with Me.”

 

*

And I realized that only by draining my cup,

Of the self-centered dregs that had filled my soul up,

Could I let the world’s true needs and hungers be shorn of,

All the fears, hates, and selfishness hollows are born of.

And only when I know how empty I am,

Can my cup then be filled by the wise Son of Man

Who taught us to drink from true worth’s living spout,

That is found only when we pour ourselves all out.

 

*

It was only when I learned that I’d always fail,

If I thought my small cup was some great holy grail.

And I’m happy today, to report “I got nothin’

To pour in your ears; or your minds to be stuffin’

With beauty or glory or humor or thinking,

I can’t share any nectar the gods’ have been drinking.

I just have this void vessel with nothing inside,

But the good news is it has been drained of my pride.

So, it’s ready for you to fill with your own needs,

Your fears and your longings, your joys and your deeds.

Today with an empty cup I have been christened,

As a chalice who finally can just love and listen.

For that is how my empty cup will be full,

Of the things that will last in an eternal soul.

 

*

 

There is an old poem about cups running over,

And living with joy in green pastures forever.

My cup runneth over. No evil I’ll fear,

And Your goodness and mercy will to me, be near.

A table’s before me, Your Way will I go,

And with Love and with Peace, my cup will overflow.

Forgotten One Walks – a poem

70655461_2163692977067992_8623810768590077952_o

 

 

Forgotten One Walks

By Jane Tawel

July 14, 2020

We’ve forgotten The One Who comes and Who goes,

The One Who has places to seed.

We have hidden ourselves

From The One Who once walked

And talked in The Garden with Eve.

 

And when I say, “we”, I really mean I,

For I have boxed up with a bow,

The One Who has elsewhere, His fishies to fry,

And other cosmoses to hoe.

 

But as ever as far and away as The One

Seems to be just to me on this day,

The nearness of All that is faithful and true

Will be close to my heart when I pray.

 

Ah, The Garden, with serpent’s cool lies, has been marred,

And we walk in the heat of the doom,

But The One that created the fields and the stars,

Is as close as the child in this room.

 

Look around at the love that you see in the places,

Look inside at the love you can find in the faces,

Crave your forgiving and for your forgiveness,

Hold in your hands lightly what you think you possess.

Seek what you find, find what you abandon,

Naked and needy, become Second Adam.

 

I don’t walk alone, on this planet bright blue,

I’ve been given a help-meet, and her name is “you”.

We’ve been cloned in the image, the Imago Dei,

And though The One has other places to play,

The Truth is, One’s only one human away.

 

We’ve forgotten The One we’ve cast out to Above,

But One’s only a heartbeat away, when we Love.

And I’ve found that it’s only my heart being hardened,

That prevents The One walking with me in The Garden.

So, today the real question is– do I truly desire,

The kind of relationship that Eve had prior,

To the mistake that she made when she thought it would work,

To believe that obedient love could be shirked,

With The One Who had made human beings co-creators,

In a world meant to grow ever greater and greater?

 

Every day I have failed and I eat from The Tree,

I believe all the lies that this world’s all for me.

But this world is for Us,

And this world is for Tao,

And to walk in The Way of the Here and the Now;

For it’s really not true that The One’s out there waiting,

While this world is destroyed with our greed and our hating.

The One is as close as our enemy’s hand,

Or the hunger and thirst of the neediest man.

The One hasn’t left us. We have asked to take leave.

And our absence from Love causes The One to grieve.

The Spirit, it comes and it goes like the breeze,

But to those who Love others, are given the keys,

To a new Secret Garden where the real work is done,

And we walk in the Light and the Love of The One.

 

Let me open my eyes

And stop searching the skies

For salvation to come far and yon.

Let each sister and brother,

Be First Father and Mother,

and Our Family walk once more with The One.

 

Love keeps us together

“Love keeps us together” by jgwong is licensed under CC BY-NC-SA 2.0

A Short Poem of Encouragement

IMG_7202 3.jpeg

(Jane — where she is)

 

 

If This Is Where I Am

By Jane Tawel

July 9, 2020

 

 

If this is where I am, today

Then I need not choose where to go.

If I am here,

 then I am who

I can be best,

and I can know

That even though I have some fear,

This place I am is enough-true,

To get me through

And help me grow,

Into the self that I should be,

Just for right now,

Just I, myself, and Thee.

 

When our living moments meet us at the day’s designs, then we are created anew into what we have always been most able to be.   Enjoy Living Who and Where you are today,  ~~ Jane

 

Vicissitudinal Hopes – a short poem

Vicissitudinal Hopes

A Poem

By Jane Tawel

May 6, 2020

hope_by_burythereckless-d6vz97y

Similarity breeds stagnation.

Longing for variation,

We risk brave adaptation,

and flip-flop dire causations

to beat the slippery slope.

*

Vicissitudes sire transformations.

With some slight alterations,

We make real permutations,

In our most dire situations,

and learn to cope.

*

Since first the World’s foundation,

And each soul’s true gestation,

We always find relation,

To Love and Love’s creations,

So hold fast to hope.

 

Stay brave. Keep loving. Be hopeful.  ~~ Jane

#3 Poem in “In My Room” Series

#3 In My Room – A Sonnet

By Jane Tawel

April 22, 2020

For those of you who may have forgotten your Middle School English Class, A Shakespearean Sonnet has 14 lines written in iambic pentameter, and rhymes every other line until the last two which will form a couplet.  (You’re Welcome. haha! ) Every once in a while it can be rather a fun thing to try to put form right up there with function, and I thought I’d try it in my series of In My Room Poems.

Windowsill

“Windowsill” by Star Guitar is licensed under CC BY-NC-ND 2.0

 

In My Room -#3

By Jane Tawel

April 22, 2020

 *

Smells of sage, mint, lavender seep white walls.

Though not for fighting, there is one sharp knife.

Aprons hang like church or temple prayer shawls,

In this room I’ve served in– glad days, good life.

*

Colors much too bright for rooms more mellow,

Impart an ambiance both bold and right.

 Vegetables and fruits recline –red, yellow;

Oven’s warmth melds with sensual delights.

*

There’s salty, bitter, sweet, and savory,

There’s cool and heat and hot and mild and cold.

This room has hosted mealtimes flavory,

And laughs and sorrows here have all been told.

*

I need no place but this to be rich in,

Ambrosial with memories — kitchen.

*