Truth’s Obit

In this grand age where truth is but a rare guest,
rarely invited, often shown quickly out,
lies all dressed in Sunday’s best doth manifest,
spreading their gospel but sowing seeds of doubt.
facts are passé, and fictions in request,
“Believe what feels right,” the loud masses do shout.
in wisdom’s stead, we’ve crowned only loud and crass,
truth’s obit penned with hashtags, sadly not class.


MTB – Ottavo Rima

21 thoughts on “Truth’s Obit

  1. The meaning of truth has changed in recent years, Reena, with so many people talking about ‘my truth’, which isn’t the truth at all, just their own interpretation of events, which is expressed well in the phrase ‘lies all dressed in Sunday’s best’ and ‘truth’s obit penned with hashtags, sadly not class’.

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  2. I think the problems come when ‘truth’ and ‘belief’ are interchangeable.

    Good poem written well to the form

    ‘lies all dressed in Sunday’s best doth manifest,’
    Great line and I love the medieval tone.
    Good one.

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