Lies

Lies-

 

They rest in nooks and cast their pale latitudes-

Slowly upon the floor,

I cannot run away from their image they show me,

As they fall between the cracks and rest in their shadowy holes-

I still see their lines.

 

If we had understood perfect geometry,

The lines, shapes, discombobulated,

Measurements, or UFOs-

Would fall into their place,

Piece by small inching-

Foot,

But I cannot help save to think we,

Don’t really have a grasp of the concept,

Because-

If the semblances confused their grace,

And danced away from what we thought-

The symmetry-

Geometry as we know it-

Would fall away,

And we’d discover the-

Ruinous tragic holes,

That are part of their depiction.

Those shadowed spirits,

That tell us lies,

Would eat into our notions,

And cause-

The most nefarious,

And humiliating rendition-

As they glide through the holes,

Into us-

Tearing down the structure of our lives-

And the symmetry as we know it-

Would come to nothing-

Naught save for lies-

Nothing but-

These odd semblances-

UFOs,

Contradiction,

And drilled little holes-

Into our perfect facades.

So be these . . .

 

Lies,

Lies,

Lies,

Lies,

Lies

Lies

Lies

Lies

Lies

Lies

Lies

Lies

Lies

Lies.