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Jean Cocteau

The poet is a liar who always speaks the truth.

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The Boy Who Always Laughs

For Lio


Lio, the boy who always laughs
Went away the other day
None he took away with him
But one left:
His heart, the one he gave my heart

He told me he wanted to travel
Around the world
With the bees, the bread and a slight of Kimi Raikkonen
'I'm hoping to be a racer, ' he said
I said, 'Well you should be.
You're the driver of the life, this life you get
anyway.'

The sun gets brighter
When all men's dreams get bigger

And his, get larger
With each passing day

Just yellowen the sun in my sky
That has always been gray

And now, with his heart in mine
It makes my soul shine

It makes me
want to travel
around the globe
With the bees, the bread and his hope

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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.

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There Is This Voice That Always Speaks

inside me there is always this little voice
that always speaks
everyday

it simply sings
a song
that i barely know

like a little bird
inside my chest
every
morning when i just wake up

it sings of freedom
and love
it sings of being
true

it hints
about love
and
happiness

everyday
like the air i breathe

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Quatrain #292 - A poet is an artist who..........

A poet is an artist who paints images with words cast on the canvas of our mind
and uses expressions to make a point or evoke feelings of some particular kind.
A poem then is the handiwork of a poet who is usually inspired or otherwise,
being the medium through which he or she reveal themselves to peoples eyes.

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Speak the Truth

May the girl who speaks the truth
Expel a certain boy who is a sleuth.
His sentences were unclear as hell,
Open wounds ached and made him yell.
The girl attacked the boy, when the boy
Explained his state of affairs, his toy.
They maddened each other,
Forever and forever,
As destructive as each other,
Always and forever.
The truth brought sleep to hide from
The bustle of every day belief, they were calm.
Truth was a mad element
Opening fresh compliment.

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Great Poetry?

How could anyone ever truly
Define great poetry?
Factors are so many that contribute
To the way each person does hear-feel-and see.
The season, the day, the very time,
Along with each readers wisdom-knowledge-and mind.
A line read one day
May deeply stir the spirit
While the very next time read
The reader simply just can't 'get-it'.

Besides, who is to judge,
And who is to decide?
Who always speaks truth,
And who pray tell has never lied?
Let the one who has never struggled with emotion and word
Cast the first critical stone,
Let the pure, perfect poet
Read and write completely all alone;
Enshrined by himself
Upon his own empty throne.

After all, it is supposed to be
A bit (or more) of myth and mystery,
A little difficult to decipher, somewhat vague,
Meant to speak, but not brag.
For Goodness sake, it's poetry.
Not prose, not essay, and certainly not the news.
It's forms are many and free,
It's thoughts different and deep,
It's direction everywhere the heart can see,
It's origin, and destination, ineffable...

But to write, one must try, or die... such is the poems strength.
So, let the creator of words create.
With wild and wonderful words to decipher and debate;
And never let the beauty of it all
In trivial criticism suffocate.

What is great poetry though you still inquire?
I should have told you from the start;
(But, then you would not have listened)
Great poetry is always, and only,
Beautiful words written truly
From, and for, the heart.

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Jean Cocteau

I am a lie who always speaks the truth.

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Softly The Truth Speaks And Wins Over You

what? you wage war against the truth?
through all your wiles and lies?

you will be powerless
you will not win

you kick against the spikes
and wound yourself

you spit to God
you spit on yourself

calm down
and think

and listen, hear the truth
softly speaking

always winning over you.

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Always seek the refuge of the truth

You can neither touch it nor feel it,
Unless you peel the cover of falsehood off,
For 'falsehood is bound to perish by nature, '
And then you will get the truth with all its might,
Howsoever dark the night is,
A glow warm ends its monopoly,
Likewise a small truth challenges
The mighty empire of falsehood,
So never rely on falsehood,
And always seek the refuge of the truth.

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The Truth Is Always For Free! !

To shine forth through the dark with your love,
To shine forth the rain with my love,
To shine forth through the wind with your muse,
And like all the rivers that flow into the seas;
So, teach me only righteous things and,
I will follow you.
Come and touch my heart with your love,
Come and change my heart with your care,
Come and lead me on with the peace of your mind;
For, the truth is always for free! !
And, i need you to guide me on along this narrow path.

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The truth

The truth is what we don't see
It is the innocent glace across the room
full of admiration, love and pain
Secrets,
So many secrets hidden in one glance
We cover the truth with lies of approval,
so that no one judges us,
so we fit in,
but really, People will always judge us,
we will never fit in,
We dont need their approval,
All we need in love, happiness and peace in our souls
But the truth will never be known
Because were too busy seeking the approval
of those who will never approve.

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My Poems Tell The Truth of Who I Am

MY POEMS TELL THE TRUTH OF WHO I AM

My poems tell the truth of who I am
Perhaps it is not a happy enough truth
Perhaps it is not an aesthetically interesting enough truth
Perhaps it is not the truth you want or need ever
But it my truth
And if it gives you some hint of your truth
And if it makes you understand your life more
And if it makes you a bit less alone
And if it gives you something which is in some way good for you
I suppose then I should take perhaps some small satisfaction from it.

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Sonnet: Speak the Truth Always

Open your heart and speak the truth therein;
Let not your tongue utter its usual lies;
For bearing false witness is mortal sin,
And Hell is punishment if man so dies!

Just listen to your conscience and speak;
Your evil words will one day God’s wrath reap;
John Celes is a doctor in his peak;
And God, his Friend and Guide who loves him deep.

No man is cleverer than God you know;
His justice, honesty prevails on earth;
To these ideals as doctors, we must bow,
Until we take our earthly life’s last breath.

Just speak the truth until the very last,
And do your duty to your God steadfast.

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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

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Now I Know The Truth

You think yourself so smart,
Then you are dumber than i thought.

You still gonna keep on this lie,
And say that you love me,
I won't believe you no matter how you try.

You promised that i always be yours and you will be mine,
But i cought you in the middle of your crime.
Now i know who you really are,
You were just a dream that was so far.
Now i know the truth,
The truth i always knew.

You pretended to be someone you are not,
Someone: good, decent, someone who really cares,
Someone who knew me alot.

But now i know the truth,
The truth i always knew.

I can't go on in this stupid game any more,
Can't go on and pretend that every thing is OK,
So now i'll close that open door.

I can't go on, after i knew the truth,
The truth i always knew.

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The Truth, The Whole Truth, And Nothing But The Truth

Witnesses in trials in the US are asked to swear
to 'tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth'.

It is impossible to tell the whole truth. Only God is omniscient.
It is impossible to tell the truth. Human beings, like church stained
glass with the sun, always filter the truth, We can only project what
we are, the particular rung of frequency on which we are perched.

*********

Defense attorneys exaggerate and select because their first duty
is to their clients. Prosecutors withhold exculpatory evidence
and send innocents to jail because scalps on the belts are good
for their careers.

In our political system, the higher one goes, the greater the number
of corrupt judges. Those who have honored the truth the least
ask others to abide by higher standards than the judiciary.

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The Truth In Thomas Gray

Long years ago I had this dream of fame
That mine would live on as remembered name
That people would remember me and say
A legend once a legend still today.

But I think quite different now than I thought then
That I'd know fame and outlive other men
And now I know it matters none at all
Before we walk we have to learn to crawl.

And who could disagree with Thomas Gray
His elegy alive and well today
'Those paths of glory still lead to the grave'
And man to immortality still a slave.

It matters little to you when you die
Your fame that lives on you cannot enjoy
So enjoy life why worry about fame
And treat all people equal all the same.

Longfellow wrote 'It is not always May'
And the fairest rose in garden yesterday
Today it's petals scattered on the ground
And other roses blooming all around.

In my younger years just west of Millstreet Town
I yearned for fame and riches and renown
But now I see the truth in Thomas Gray
And I look at life in quite a different way.

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To Tell You The Truth..

to tell you the truth..
&
to tell you the truth bluntly
he expects a comforting word
whenever he opens email
on posting his creation-
once in a while he gets it for works
'not masterpieces' in his view-
the sterling works go uncared-for!
the mind dejected, winds up his interest
the gloom sets in his heart-
thinks the world is very cruel
and a great riddle beyond him-
none about him has the taste-buds
for the dream-receipes made of lovely words-
who cares for a poet with dreamy eyes
fashioning thoughts on intricate moulds?
he is lonely, so lonely with his monitor
and the ' clucking ' keyboard
that translates his thoughts from finger-hits-
even a word or two of kudos he rarely gains
jump and die within him with none to lend ears-
leave others-relatives or friends-
o how he yearns for a pat off the eyes of one
on narrating his poem in full blast of enthusiasm-
destined not to be, he is almost in tears
deprived of a breeze from the heart of his dear wife!

-sundaram chandrakalaadhar.

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Lies have become the truth!

Not easy to cheat someone,
When we try to hide the fun of an offense,
We have to be careful and alert always,
Our actions should be monitored and concealed,
From the scrutinizing eyes of the loved ones,
Or the friends or the authorities,
The same lies have to be remembered,
Must memorize the lies to repeat,
At no point can afford to make a mistake,
What a frightful and tiring life it is,
When we try to cheat and lie, wearing the masks,
Eyes can't be met. as Something pricks,
Words are hard to come, as our tongue twists,
Hearts start to race fast, sometimes sweat,
Lying is not an easy task, when the burden felt,
life of lies worth or not, it seems to benefit,
those who have the desire to taste the fruits,
acquire and keep those as heavenly secrets,
deep in the silence and rot as not refrigerated,
life of lies is not easy to live, must act,
immaculate to the eyes of those suspicious,
once secured the trust and confidence of the innocents,
life of lies is great and lies will become the 'truth'.

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I will write a poem that will say the truth

This poem I will write and it will tell the truth
The candid truth, the whole candid truth and nothing
But the miserable truth
And this will hurt you and all of you who consider me a friend
The words are carefully chosen and the
Lines screened with so much introspection
This poem will tell you who you really are
No holds bar, no second thoughts
No consideration at all that you may hate me
I, who want, always to be loved and be popular
I am tired of lying and telling what is not in my mind,
I will now write the truth about you and the whole world,
This poem will hurt you and this world
And the whole world will be angry about me writing this poem,
This poem will bring you into harsh awakenings
And this will surely shake you and hurt you and you will never
Talk to me again and you will wish me ill and you will curse the day that I was born.
This poem will make you hate me forever but for one thing
I still have no courage to show it to you, perhaps later when I am
All ready to be despised, hated and finally discarded from your minds.

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