Post Truth Poetry

This is definitely a light-hearted poem for those that are easily offended! It contains several references to a mysterious past when presidents, prime ministers and heads of state were seen as international leaders that spoke for all of their people and not just for the minority that got them elected. That was a time when telling the truth, questioning absurd accusations and trying to avoid tribal reasoning were things that we all aspired to, even if we disagreed on details. It was a time when the complex was not deliberately obscure and when to work hard to get something right was seen as a sign of artistic integrity rather than a proof of lack of talent!


Post Truth Poetry

I may have to accept to live in my time

By assuming truth to have no sense

And by abandoning use of rhythm and rhyme

With disregard for grammar and tense

Then, maybe, my words will become true art

And I will cease to be called an old fart


I’e never really been a follower of fashion

And certainly not one of great dedication

As a youth, I believed in some stuff with passion

But mostly at times of self-medication

I used to think that a life international

Was as enlightening as pursuit of the purely rational


I now understand that all that was an error

And, like a show trial before Mao’s Red Guard

Or at some, middle aged, inquisitional terror

I will recognise the sins in my own back yard

I will promise to become terribly tribal

And, in passing, ignore any laws of libel


I will also now write with gay abandon

And accept the new meaning of that word

No structure or method will now be planned on

And I’ll avoid the comic and the grossly absurd

As Zappa once said, I’ll be a monger of trends

And write verses or lines without any ends


I’ll honestly welcome  this New Age of Reason

When long-dead poets will turn in their grave

What I have done, thus far, may be considered treason

And a disgusting way for the old to behave

I might even start saying some new-age prayers

And kicking the disabled down logical stairs


My poetry will be a true revelation

Not like the trash of a Larkin or Joyce

I’ll dedicate my work to some weird conservation

And destroy my seemingly classless voice

I’ll try to speak with a street-wise tongue

And emulate the uneducated young


But let us return to this post-truth notion

I cannot be sure if the expression is British

Or whether it comes from across the ocean

In any case, for the moment, its usage is skittish

Apparently truth is no more to be sought

And plural realities at school must be taught


I’ll have to write to the Royal Mail

And ask for some friendly advice

From this service that should never fail

For people for whom the postman knocks twice

Thus I may finally recover my youth

And discover true meaning in a world post-truth