Saturday, January 22, 2011

the truth is not out there


if I could collect all the things I love,
put them on a shelf high above,
they would be touched by no one else,
I would have them there all to myself,

if I could push all these rocks from my way,
I would slip on easier through the day,
but I'd have nothing left to write,
nothing much to say come the night,

there is something hard to realize,
love is letting go of what we'd keep at our side,
trying to hold what wants to fly,
is as pointless as tears of regret from an old man's eyes,









truth is not a childhood dream,


truth is not an eschatological surprise,

truth is what's left when you subtract the lies,

this could be the moment when you rise.






3 comments:

Old Ollie said...

Sometimes truth takes me outside the Lee Tavern and kicks my ass.

Fisheye Lens said...

This one is really good, Dox. One of my favourites.

You gotta be able to walk away from everything when you spot the end of the world around the corner.

GravenRecords said...

Nice rhymes and poetic flow, 'dox. dox rocks cocks and likes his hamhocks with cream cheese and lox. this reminds me of a line from shawshank. it's a hard lesson and filled with beautiful imagery.