I'm a wreck.
I'm a fat mess.
I'm angry at the world.
I'm screaming out for someone's help.
I'm longing for something more than this.
The truth is...
Truth Be Told
Do you believe in things the way they are
Or the way you want them to be?
The fact-based former example is truth.
The latter is simply a false story.
A student who says two plus two is four
Cites a mathematical truth.
However, a politician may lie
To get you in the voting booth.
Facts are accepted, not created.
Truth is discovered when the facts align
Or when faith becomes your reality
In matters religious and divine.
Truth can be unvarnished and naked
Or hidden to require a sleuth.
But beware: Truth can be stretched
Or shrunk to a grain or half-truth.
In short: Seek truth
Whether old or a youth.
The Whole, And Nothing. But...
Truth is like beauty; A thing to behold
In the twinkling eyes of another.
It cannot be bought and it cannot be sold,
Only found. (With no small ’mount of pother.)
Truths can abound when one runneth aground
In the silt-ponds of pure observation,
Where truest of truths are in simplest of proofs.
‘That there glacier has suffered ablation.’
So I package some ‘true’ in corporeal stacks;
“Things-I’ve-learned” somewhere here, ’midst the racks.
But it’s still filtered through the penultimate gaze;
‘Where there’s wound, cannot honesty heal it?’
...Or perhaps Truth’s just cud; dili-gently re-grazed...
(Well, at least in this form none would steal it.)
’Course, the true Truths are facts.
Not these flim-flam abstracts.
Truth’s objective. We only reveal it.
In the end, I defend, whether bland or uncouth,
Be it real, or ideal, or just rumen,
The fact that we think we can define the truth
Is none-the-less ’cidedly human.
flowers in the garden
crumbs of dirt
clawing at sunlight
they wither away
never revealing their
petals to the
the ones left
parade their beautiful
You make me so tired.
Last night I dreamt that I loved you
Running into you causes a rush
of adrenaline that leaves me low.
Talking to you drains me of articulation.
Crying for you leaves me alone.
Knowing where you are spawns a thousand
plans to get there, none of which will work.
Last night I dreamt that I loved you
You make me so tired.
So here it is...
I have travelled much,
seen many things ,
manipulated and finally disheartened.
and I am no expert,
but no one is, not at the truth biz.
it’s a depressing endeavor,
the truth biz,
more wrong turns than right,
more black and shadow,
and not a lot of certainty,
and for what?
and for who?
and what in the end,
we have to show for all that torture?
tone down your expectation,
you won’t get any E equals MC squares here.
not crisp equation,
that you can neatly,
put on a get well card.
in fact, for much that we can say,
us in the truth biz,
the more you try to shove things,
compacting, dismissing exceptions,
the more you stray.
perhaps this is what truth realy comes down to:
don’t expect to get a straight answer.
then again, in the truth biz,
we literaly wrote the book,
we generalize and stereotype the crap,
out of this universe,
it is mostly dark, you see?
and there are these shiny things?
i guess that in the truth biz,
we get a bit lazy sometimes.
it’s probably a cobtributing factor,
all those giants who lend us ,
nice shoulders to stand upon,
why, i’ll admit it,
we could’ve done a better job.
but that’s the bar that’s set here,
over here at truth biz,
you should see some of the bozos,
we got working on it,
but that’s what we get,
it ain’t pretty,
it’s sad and unsatisfying,
and we’ve pretty much,
just came around to the same conclusion, over and over.
so here it goes:
life is so-so. it isn’t good or bad,
it could be worse or better,
it comes to an end,
there’s some speculation,
about what comes next,
we’ll get back to you on that one.
so done with life.
reality is change,
it is constantly in flux,
if you caught a contradiction here,
so did Perminides, one of those giants..
so yeah, it’s all change,
but it's full of patrerns.
think of it as an endless roll of wrapping paper being pulled straight into a paper shredder.
well, you may find some,
although satisfaction is a fleeting moment.
though satisfaction is a fleeting momentis although satisfaction is a fleeting moment.oment.
and even if you get some,
it is not important,
in the grand scheme of things,
yeah, that’s right,
here in the truth biz,
we look at things on a cosmic scale,
at least sometimes..
god, my mouth is dry...
god. MY mouth is dry.
great, well...the big guy,
let’s tie it with reality, then:
the universe is in change,
and it is constantly being created,
it was not a one-off thing,
so god or the gods or the non-god ,
death sucks for everyone,
that can’t wait for it to come,
but we don’t know,
if the next stage gets one star or five,
zero...nothing comes from nothing,
what do you get? nothing!
oh, i’m sorry,
I got a flashback of ‘the life of Brian’.
always look on the...
look, i’m getting tired of this.
maybe this is part of the truth.
some guys over,
at the classics department,
say that everything is Logos,
or in other words:
everything has a deeper neaning.
oh..you liked legos when,
you were young?
why then and not now?
aren't you the same person?
i think you still do,
like Legos, i mean.
or you are possibly,
not the same entity, you recall.
here in the truth biz ,
keeping true to yourself,
and not hiding things is a big thing,
hey, i LIKE legos too.
i just feel bad,
that when you buy them today,
they come with a plan,
and in the end it looks so good,
that you don’t dare take it apart.
well..until some parts get lost,
and only then you start,
doing your own thing.
such is life , eh?
we make plans,
see our life on a nice track,
then the wheels start coming off..
i think you don’t want the truth.
you just want me to tell you,
it’s going to turn out great,
and give you advice,
about how to turn your life around.
you don’t care about the srars,
you don’t care about art,
you don’t care about love.
all you want is for me to be a ‘daddy’,
and figure EVERY thing out for you.
oh, and you want it to be,
an easy read!
go back to the start,
i made no claim that this,
is what i can give.
i’m sitting on a taxi now,
the website gives what i write,
all kinds of problems,
i’m dead tired and my day,
is just starting,
no amount of coffee,
is going to fill that hole.
you want the truth?
i can’t handle the truth!
i just can't!
it’s just a bug in the system,
a self-replicating annoyance,
that keeps popping up,
in my sleep deprived mind,
especially when it’s all gloomy,
which is why it often feels like a...
like a draining tub.
the truth is a draining tub.
there! I quit!
to my little sister (my truth)
if everyone who loves me
everyone who held me, comforted me
i would stay for you
i would hold you, comfort you
i would endure such a world
to be there, to love you
i would do that for you.
i would stay.
(one day maybe i could do it for myself)
if you went to hell
and i went to heaven
and everyone i love went to heaven too
i would leave
i would spend an eternity burning
trade heaven for hell
just to be with you
even if i couldn’t touch you
hold you, comfort you
if you didn’t even know i was there
i would go in a heartbeat
it’s not a decision
not a good or kind choice
it’s the hook in my heart that pulls me
between you and the struggle
you and the suffering
you and the world
(even if it were a choice
i’d choose you over anything.)
if the world held nothing for me
i would stay.
The TRUTH is, it’s really Benny Hill we’re watching. But we can’t say those words. Not around Mom. She’d NEVER let us watch this.
Jack sneaks up here after Gene goes to sleep, and Leesha is smoking and bullcrapping with Gramma and Aunt Lori. Mom and Dad are in their room down the hall. A cool thing about living at Gramma’s, it’s a big, long hall, so they can't hear us, and it’s a pretty big room here. Jack could spend the night up here if he could ever just calm down and be cool about it.
Only me and Jorge and Jack know the real truth about Benny Hill that we got going--that we got a SECRET PASSWORD that lets us get away with it. I thought it up. Like Mission Impossible. Now we can talk about Benny Hill RIGHT IN FRONT OF MOM.
We can even plot our strategy of Jack coming up here at 10pm, turning on channel 13, and now we can do it in BROAD DAYLIGHT down there. She doesn’t even have a CLUE! I just changed the wording. Instead of “Benny Hill,” now we just say, “Billy Mountain.” I substituted "Billy" for "Benny," and "Mountain" for "Hill." It's working!
I walked right by her today. She was just sitting in Gramma’s dining room chair. I went, Hey, Jack, you want to come up and watch Billy Mountain tonight?
Jack looked at Mom, then looked at me. A laughing attack was coming on. He almost blew it. But he got control and he goes, Youuuu betcha!
Mom said, What’s Billy Mountain?
What was funnier is, she was genuinely curious, never even suspecting something bad.
I said, Ohhh, nothing. Just a funny new show.
Yeah, added Jack. (He had a handle on himself now.) It’s this guy, he’s pretty funny, all right.
Jorge was there. He also got it. That’s how come he smiled.
Mom kept asking. Her Nostramomus was coming out. She wanted to know what it was about. We were living it right out on the edge.
We told her it was just, like, a variety of stuff. Gramma bailed us out, believe it or not. She said it sounded like one of those old “variety shows,” and Jack jumped right on that one, agreeing all up and down and giggling his butt off almost, but that was that, we can talk about Billy Mountain all we want down there now. The coast is all clear.
Good thing they don't know the truth of this, what we're doing. That blond chick just got her skirt ripped off. Accidentally. Yeah, right. She’s just wearing those thigh suspender thingies that British girls wear. Benny Hill does the salute at her. He looks like we are, like he's seeing something he ain’t supposed to see. Except he's a GROWN UP so why's he just doing that?
Here comes Jackie, Jack says. He means the bald guy. We watched the credits to find out. We just had to know, who's that bald guy?
Oh! Here it comes! says Jorge in his whisper-yell. He can do it. I can do it. Jack can't. No way on him.
We brace ourselves. Can't wait.
Benny Hill slabber-smacks little Jackie on the head, bald head, smack-smack-smack.
There it is! I whisper-yell.
Jack yelled too, but WAY too loud. We CONSTANTLY gotta remind him.
Shhhh! You want 'em to find out THE TRUTH?!
What truth? he says.
That Benny Hill is Billy Mountain!
Oh, yeah, he says.
The Truth of A Lie.
Truth itself is relative.
Only told by those who live.
Truth for one is but a lie.
Leaving some to wonder why.
To the victor goes the spoil.
The defeated only foil.
After all they are who write.
History for which we fight.
There is always truth in lie.
Like the birds are in the sky.
Lie alone cannot exist.
Because from the truth they twist.
There is but one truth in life.
One that will lead to no strife.
Everything is but a lie.
How I know that makes you sigh.
Truth is not something that's said.
Or carried along the dead.
Truth is something that you find.
In the recess of your mind.
You will not find complete truth.
Sitting in a diner booth.
For that truth cannot be found.
Until we are heaven-bound.
Humans lie it's their essence.
They won't have acquiescence.
So you ask me what is truth?
Like there is such thing as sooth.
For there is no truth from lie.
Even as they wander by.
Truth is something that you chose.
Based on voices of those whose.
Are the loudest.
What is the Truth?
I think you have misspoke. Pontus Pilate actually said, “What is truth?” and that is altogether a different question. By adding the article, you've merely kicked the can down the road, so let me explain.
Aristotle held that, “ If I say a thing is such and such, and it is, I have spoken the truth.” Correct in its way but facile, so please now imagine a table. All tables have a similar form and function, features that Wittgenstein might call “tableness.” Some tables of course will have more of these features than others, or as he put it, “A robin is more of a bird than an ostrich.” I understand that both have feathers, but think about birds and you'll get what he means.
Language contains only labels, pointing towards certain objects about which we have some consensus. Think about it. Verbs describe actions and nouns are concepts, and dictionaries merely exist to record the current consensus on meaning.
So if you're not sure what a table might be, look in Websters and you'll find a definition, but what does that have to say about truth. As Nietzsche put it, all language is metaphor, its various meanings more or less shared between the people who currently speak it. How close that sharing depends on what noun is in play. We can agree about tables, but what about the abstract concepts like love or justice? Your truth is true just for you? Let's leave Aristotle and his facts, returning instead to Pilate and what is truth?
In the material universe, there can only be probability. As Hume so cleverly asked, “How do we know the Sun will rise tomorrow?” It has such an excellent record of coming up, we can have expectations about tomorrow. That makes for strong probability, but is that the same as truth? The universe could end overnight, and no more Sun tomorrow. Our so-called scientific laws are only mathematical models approximating real world behaviours, eith some more accurate than others. As Box so beautifully put it, “All models are wrong but some are useful.”
The same is true on any empiricism. There are for example facts in history. The French Revolution started in 1789. That is a fact in evidence and clearly true, but what was the meaning of the French Revolution? Now we're inot opinion.
The Greeks believed there were absolutes. Truth, goodness and beauty they called the transcendentals, perfected outside our universe with only types and shadows seen within our world. To understand what this means, I suggest you google Botticelli's Venus Arising and study her eyes close up. A Neo-Platonist, he set out to capture Absolute Beauty, and you will find he got very close, her eyes are drawing you with a sense of home and safety, of peace not as we describe it (the absence of conflict) but more like the Jewish word shalom.
Of course, if Jesus was the Son of God, then Pilate was badly mistaken. God, if He exists at all, must surely exist beyond (before) our universe where there can be no atrophy or decay, or how would He be an absolute God, and such a place, being perfect, would have to feature perfect truth, goodness and beauty. Christ, by coming from there to here, expresses Botticelli's intention, the Absolute coming through the curtain to enter our time limited and decaying world. The, as Jesus pointed out, you would have truth, though expressed as a person and not an idea.
If however there is no God, then there can be no truth, only probability and what we hope are good enough approximations to keep us going, decay and death the only remaining certainties.