TRUTH BE TOLLED

To tell the truth, the truth is not.
Our facts are cooked in the author’s pot.
Sprinkled with bias, half-baked to perfection,
Reshaped and spun to give them direction.
Packaged just right with a meister’s flair,
Then put in print or on the air.
Polished and colored for dramatic effect,
Published in places that once earned respect.

You can’t accept the written word,
You can’t believe what you just heard.
It may not be a lie, per se,
It’s just not true in every way.
If you’re naïve, you’ll be misled --
For what is meant, is not what’s said.
And all throughout the public stage,
Masking the truth is all the rage.

Superlatives that don’t apply
Are used to sell the things we buy.
Journalists report the news,
But spice it up with slanted views.
Our pols are loath to tell the truth --
They can’t see past the voting booth.
And those in whom we place our trust,
Tell only what they think they must.

Truth leans to the left, or slants to the right.
It’s right in your face, or plain out of sight.
The facts come in versions, so you get to choose
The ones that fit best and match your own views.
And if you can’t find the truth that you seek,
Try changing the station or tune in next week --
‘Cause what’s true today might not be for long,
Someone, somewhere, will tell you it’s wrong.

This “truth” we’re fed won’t make us free,
It’s layered in obscurity.
It’s up to us to sort it out
And that we can, I often doubt.
For you and I have different eyes --
Where I see truth, you still see lies.
Our hope lies in our honesty;
First me with you, then you with me.

--  George M. Gingerelli
© July 10, 2005