The irony of honesty E-Book

Robert Grant

• Herausgeber: Books on Demand
• Kategorie: Poesie und Drama
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 66

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2023

Beschreibung

We are a species divided. Split into so many different groups and subgenres, that it's hard to keep up. Gender, ethnicity, age, culture, religion, political stand point...our economic status, education level, sexual preference, food allergies, music, film, hair cut...dog or cat? The divisions are endless. One of the only things that all humans have in common (apart from bodily functions) is that we all lie. People rarely want to hear the truth, even if they ask for it. If you were unabashedly honest, people would hate you for it or call you a sociopath...Which is overwhelmingly ironic. This new collection of poems discusses the idiosyncrasies in life and how most people (including him) dishonestly deal with them.

Leseprobe

Contents

Tick...tock

An about town tramp

The Irony of Honesty

Fruit fly

I see you

Wet Wish

Boot

Stoned - 1

This Dance

True?

Liar

Hum

Leave it

Star boy

Old Rambling Man

The Kid and the Crane

Hole

Nip

Lady

Lump

Lucky little fucker

How I met NYK .J. SWEETEN

Re-Lapse

The Exchange

Here

Poo

CBD

You know who you are

Beer

Right now

Juggle

Drunk

Bubble Bum

The curse of our time

Tree - 1

Tree - 2

Muscle Memory

Futile Nobility

Deafening

Kids these days

Ruby the Knife

From time to time

Oh My

The comedian

Kamikaze

Not going to say

Now I'm thinking

That's dark

The business side

You and you

Burnt

lost

Book Launch

I'm In

Wash back

Drunk Chicks

Weight

Idiot

5 Quotes

In description

Where I find

Masturbation Wins

True

Sunday evening

Fame - 2

Baby on brain

Daddy Says

Exterior drinks

Older

Bad taste

Sanity of the bum

Run

He's coming back

Circle

Glorious

Actors

Your boss said

That Night

Time loop

The hair metal kid

Doom 2.0

Church bombs

The madness of fashion

Panic

Industrious Waste

The Myth, the...

I see you

Nod fade

Muse

3am Disney

Check, Check

Mirrored in Morning

Out with the old

She ends it

Under God

Dictionary

Coffee morning for fathers

So Smile then...

Slur

Spike

Lump - 2

A place for dreamers

"Very few, want to hear

the honest truth

...even if they ask for it"

(Robert Grant 2023)

Tick...tock

I will outlive the crows,

but not the trees they

taunt me from.

Will outlive the bench

on which I'm parked, but not

the cracked stone beneath it.

Son will hopefully out run his

father, but the life of experiences

will run longer in that memory.

Hippies will always outlive the

dogs that they are walking.

Both events as single motion.

One beginning to another and so on

to new sons and daughters, temporally

running faster than their parents.

As the new appear, the tree grows on

and crows teach their chicks to

catch worms, simulating wing flaps.

Countdowns commenced on bent arms

as if something different is being arranged,

in some altered universe.

An about town tramp

I walked mile upon mile until I was so tired

that I sat down next to him and he to me,

as we tried to unravel this mess.

Watched some homeless people selling

things they'd found on the street. A Granny

looking down at a horde of children, tutting.

Crazy people talking to themselves through

mobile ear bud apps, that make them look

insane whilst arguing the air.

As we sat and rested, our collective mind

grew tired of listening to the native tongues

...blanking it out as if it were fire.

Getting the flow of things before us, our

mind filled with weed and jazz...as we

thought of great things to write.

Then got to thinking about drinking and

singing...dance turns to a parade of

halted things, in a splinter of now.

Momentarily broken by a tall disabled man

staring at the morning sun, being ushered

into the shopping mall by his father.

A mouldy drunk staggers past from

yesterday’s rain, "DO IT" he screams

drawing looks from a public that doesn't see

him.

As we are projected from this Berlin stoop

to the coffee shop window opposite, the

tattered eventually becoming me.

With straightened out eyes and taste

back in mouth, I finally accept that we and I

are just as much a part of this landscape...

...as it is of us.

The Irony of Honesty

I lament the lies I've told.

Regret repeating what I

seem to constantly repeat.

Embellishing my life to that

comfortable point between.

Most see this, some fault,

a psychological problem to

be solved with me. When, a

reflection is closer to the truth

within the life they are living.

Life itself is a lie. For the concrete

slab beneath your feet, if held above

your head, determines if you

are inside or out. Rain to

perspiration, lies becoming truth.

For it is not only me that does this.

Not only you either. We all can't say

we've never lied, we all can't say

we remember fully, don't embellish

just a little, when jovially chatting.

People who say they have never lied

are not to be trusted, for they are the

abnormal, the lying deniers, only fooling

themselves that they're pure of heart

and free in minds pink eye.

For only the narcissistic would think they

have all the answers, never leaving anything

up to chance. They can't understand that

it could be, at some point, they're tripped

up by someone else's lying nature.

As they tell you whose philosophy they live

their life by, not grasping that they've rather

missed the point. They, as most people,

don't want to hear the honest truth, even if

they asked for it in the first place.

Fruit Fly

A fruit fly dies

in my wine and

I'm forced to feel jealous

...for I don't think I'll go so

comfortably drugged.

Drifting in a world of

endless wonder, waiting

to find out the answer to

the ink blot love, amongst

a world of disorder.

I see you

...presented with a view that doesn't

change, situations seem rested in

yesterdays. He sits.

Contemplating exactly what is meant by

more people becoming temporal,

misunderstandings left unexplained.

As loud people on louder televisions, blare

out words in a language he can't knowingly

comprehend without wincing.

When anarchists stand with spray paint

cans rather than sledge hammers, as

musicians sing more trendy than good.

Whilst influencers lie about their influence

and wealth, allowing children to dream of

being as talentless as possible.

Not remembering that this all happened

once before, naturally will do again, so

paraded as we all are to move to the future.

Forgetting, when possible, that we've seen

this all before, proceeding to take a deep

breath and thoroughly enjoy the view.

Wet Wish

A man stands in the rain, holding flowers,

looking at his watch. Finally realising that

he's not getting laid tonight, he knows that

everything he thought he'd heard about her

was wrong. Depressed with the amount of

effort, expelled into this, he jumps into the

river. Floats downstream to find simplicity.

All this occurs as she rushes through the

night, to meet this man she has feelings for.

Fighting every doubt with every ounce of

her body, she says that he is different from

the rest. That she was wrong to doubt his

advance as immature. For he just might be a

romantic fool, waiting in the rain with roses.

Not seeing him there, she throws herself in

the same river. Wants to float down to a

place that will wash away her correct

assumption. On this perfect night...from

tryst to lovers, from foolish to trusted,

washed away as photo on tide. No dancing

of vibrations in light for the lonely ones are

divided.

The torrent flows enormous, sweeping

them to opposite banks. They finally arise to

look upon one another with confusion. Only

to see the other scurry away, in order to live

out life with other spouses, children and

dreams...whilst wishing they'd washed up

on the correct side of random.

Boot

He screamed and stamped his feet