Untitled (Spoiler)


A clean sweep,
dirty tongued lies
dust panned
into a book.

Grand gets grimed
by fiction sold as truth.
He’s not half of the whole
his billfold bought.

The writer’s a ghost
The words are black
The spine will only hold
until the fiction rots.

©Susie Clevenger 2016

Real Toads Skyflower Friday

Comments

Kerry O'Connor said…
You express yourself so strongly in these lines, Susie. I wonder if we must reconcile ourselves to falsehood. This year has done a lot to shatter naivety.
December 23, 2016 at 4:07 PM
Anonymous said…
"What is truth"
December 23, 2016 at 6:30 PM
Anonymous said…
This is very powerful. Very strong wording. We really have to wonder about the truth anymore.
December 23, 2016 at 8:08 PM
Sherry Blue Sky said…
Wow, forceful, powerful, and right on target. I love that the spine only holds until the fiction rots.
December 23, 2016 at 9:54 PM
Anonymous said…
Spoiler alert: he's everything a writer fears: "dust panned " into our (history) book. This is sharp and clear without giving in to either rhyme or first reading.
December 24, 2016 at 4:37 AM
Anonymous said…
Truth unto itself is a conundrum. What is fiction is not necessarily false after all.
Though, it rots because that's only it can do.
There's a kind of passionate anger in your words and they ring like the last bell.
-HA
December 24, 2016 at 5:10 AM
brudberg said…
Sometimes truth is hard to find, but blatant lies are easy to identify
December 24, 2016 at 5:35 AM
Sanaa Rizvi said…
The writer’s a ghost
The words are black
The spine will only hold
until the fiction rots.

Beautifully haunting!!❤️
December 24, 2016 at 9:11 AM
Debi Swim said…
I guess most people believe what they want to be truth rather than the truth. We are in so much trouble
December 24, 2016 at 3:19 PM
kaykuala said…
The last stanza summed up the contention. There were the writings of dubious intent that one could not be sure. One just would have to accept such things in the real world.

Hank
December 26, 2016 at 1:24 AM
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