Posted on August 21, 2012


The eagle ponders if it will find prey?
Can the worm elude feeding the beak of the early bird?
Or the fly, the forked tongue of the frog
Will the hunter fall into his own trap?

Questions I loathe to ask
Try as we may none can escape destiny
Though we temporarily live in fantasy
Chameleons thriving without consistency

Self-deceit is the soap box stand
Conceding to the truth considered bland
Telling lies so grand
The truth will one day crash-land

You are a brilliant politician
The truth to you; an extinct dinosaur
The snare of time lies in wait
Weaving an intricate web of deceit

Soon there will be no retreat;
like soot thrown into the wind
It soon finds home: our second skin
Hopefully it won’t be too late


Posted in: Poetry