Paradox

In the paradox of what the hidden is clear
in the paradox of how distant is near,
in the paradox of who you are and seem.
in the paradox that tells life from dreams
I have stopped seeking words.
silence is far more than we know.
the contrast that steps in from bounded hope,
In the despair that lies untied in ropes.

Perception

I cut a truth in two,
A half I kept from self
A half I keep from you,

Suppress the sadist inside,
as I cut little incisions
and make truth from half lies
with an alchemist's precision

Deny either of us two,
the whole as it is true,
I have cut it in equal piece
for fragmenting unease.

The truth is brittle as it is
too strong to survive with the weak
and too stark too outraged
to subtle down with the meek.

The wedge is thin.it divides,
the line between true lies
there is truth, there is deception,
but the devil called perception?

We have sold to the devil,
There is no good and no evil.
It is defined as per say
Infinite in many ways.

What was half a lie
half a truth became
and further twisted and turned
and truth and lies were the same.

There will be truth, there will be deception
what becomes of perception?
and then there is wrong and right
but what's left to decide?

then we termed 'Belief'
Laws, religion and lack of it.
All carnage of the psyche
split and as perceived.

We free our own devise
of virtue and of vice
and sins have become petty crimes
with convenience of times.
Soon they will be mundane,
but for the paranoids and insane.

There are wars and there onset,
arguments and unrest
outcomes,grim gore grief.
never death of a belief.

There is truth, there is deception
What a curse is this perception!

I had cut a truth in
equals of two
as one it was defined
now it is sublime

there is half a truth
half a deception
and triumphing rest
is the evil good perception.

Consistency

I just figured out the lack of it . Consistency, I find myself incapable of it in most encounters that I have had with life. I have been told off and on that I work in spurts, that I can not sustain even the quintessential traits that come to me as an individual, that I am so changeable.

'Rubbish'

Had I been inconsistent and changeable I would have taken to the expectations of an ideal characteristic quite easily.Is it so hard to figure out that the inconsistency is the consistent trait I have? I work in spurts, that is a constant pattern.I find writing prose a tough task, I end up being so inconsistent in making my point.
Did you figure out what I just meant to say in this post?

Perhaps

It is, is it?, will it be?
No rule in its propensity.

there is no fate,
no date,
just a stagnant will,
and to save the face,
'Probability'.

Digression

Constants are natural misfits, sustenance is a struggle,.
In the wake of stability, instability grapples.
why stick to the point?
why tread a course?
Why trace patterns?

they end in chaos.
Instantaneous Impressions
and flings with all that is reason
and why not askew, soon to turn.
Why are they Digressions?

All disorder, in order and place.
Digression is that,
Symmetry and classification
familiarity to trace?
Digression is that.
Survival is fine
but still a phase.
that is not Digression?