rid of the truth

Poem #82 from a series of poems drawn from the imagination and collected as: a Bachelard reverie.

Back to Bachelard and me – Introduction


everything he said
came true

realization came
only gradually
and it was apparent
in hindsight
that when he was younger
he sometimes made mistakes

but with maturity
came clarity
a certainty of voice
of expression
that he could not suppress
and
over time
he knew

at first
he set tests for himself
made outrageous declarations

concocted
random utterances

streams of consciousness

all true

his questions
became
philosophical proofs

idle speculations
the basis for further
fruitful
investigation

it became noticed

sensationalized

nationalized

he started watching
behind himself
and peeking
around corners

he said he had become paranoid
that he felt
people were watching him all the time
testing him
exploiting him
plotting how to use him
discussing him on television

it was true

only in his thoughts
unuttered
did he feel safe

he went for a day
locked and alone
in a room
without once speaking

he felt almost faint
with relief
that he had not spoken
a true word
all that day

he spent another day
identifying the corners
of a plan

he said

I will hold
a news conference
for the press of the world
to attend
to hear me speak

when all were gathered
he announced

I will tell you now three things
that are true

I am going away

you will not know
where I have gone

you will not follow me

I am able
to speak lies

he left the podium
and walked
alone
out of the building

he returned
anonymously
to his home

and was not troubled
again

that
is the truth


© Frank Prem 2017

Bachelard and me Poem #83: a basket (for his lady)

281218

09/02/18

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6 thoughts on “rid of the truth

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