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Lies
Gary Langford
We gather at the table of lies,
prepared to pay anything if they're the main course,
convinced there is light in the deepest order.
Each of us has learnt to live on the dish of lies,
growing with the fear of truth's heavy hand,
all lieing for money, and more.
We rise and fall on the share-market of lies,
gathering in the offices of opportunity,
near the doughnut lawyers.
We pay the rites of flocked speakers,
high on the medicine and religion of lies,
refusing to sit long in settlement rooms.
We believe we are able to drive the engine,
wringing our hands if it doesn't start,
cursing the perpetrators of our defeat.
We nod at the latest speaker, words so pure,
they freeze and are, to lie is to forget,
to forget is to lie.
Each breath has a gentle side,
these are the acceptable lies, mostly forgotten,
compared to the force of rock throwing lies.
We are unable to forget the torment,
each truth brainy blue matter, each lie growing.
We pour ourselves out like sleepy tongues.
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