I HATE ALL OF THESE LIES

acrosty, addiction, poems, Writing 201 poetry, , , ,

This poem, written as my third assignment for the Blogging 201 Poetry course, (an acrostic poem, with trust as the theme, making use of internal rhyme) amply illustrates the reason why I like writing nonsense. It is far less painful. It could do with editing, but I have sweated enough blood today.

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I plead for release, please leave me in peace

Heartrate increasing, from your unceasing
Artful assertion; co-ertion your game-play.
Truth is a stranger, a danger to habits that
Eat at your body and feed on your brain.

And as you relate, berate and dictate
Life is swallowed by your seedy need:
Lies abound, and love makes no sound.

Only the need
Feeds your fevered mind

Truth has no answer to youth’s foolish folly when
Heroin wraps you and sucks at your sap
Every intention for future abstention
Squashed by the fever that
Evil creates

Lost by your words as they grate and deflate me
I despise all the lies that fly into my head
Every dead morning I wake with a longing
So dreadful each day: I plea for release.

© Jane Paterson Basil

47 thoughts on “I HATE ALL OF THESE LIES”

    1. That is officially the most mis-spelled word in the English language, and even knowing that I still mis-spell it on the word-processor, although not when I write it. I’ll go back and edit. Thank you for your positive comments. I’ll frame the ‘A’ and proudly desplay (Oops – silly me) it on my wall.

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  7. Wow, this is a powerful poem and nails the subject and the assignment right on the head.
    “Truth is a stranger, a danger to habits,” “Lies abound, and love makes no sound,”… really very good, all of it!

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          1. Focus is a good thing. My kids, now grown still remember me challenging them to remember the F word… focuuus! I still have to remind myself to follow my own advise! I think this course is helping me to focus as well. It is definitely helping me to write, and not just on scraps of paper to be forgotten.

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            1. Ah,yes those scraps of paper… where have they gone?
              Which reminds me. I left my abusive husband about 8 years ago, leaviing most of my possessions behind. At a later date, he dumped them outside my new home. The only things that were missing were the poems I had written about his various forms of abuse, which I had forgotten to take with me. Oh, dear, he must have found, read, and then destroyed them. Ha!

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    1. Thank you. Sadly, it’s my specialist subject. Not all battles are lost, though, and the person who inspired this piece will, in truth, have been clean for a year on the 9th March. I’m optimstic for his future.

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  12. Reading this is like am listening to my favorite classic- “Killing me softly by Roberta Flack” 🙂
    my words don’t seem enough to carry my emotions after reading it…very nice Jane, really wonderful. thanks for sharing 🙂

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