What is sad is that sometimes the truth fades into the circumstantial.
You can’t tell a story and have it stand as truth,
even if you have a bit of this and that as proof,
even if your witnesses…
This nicely turned out poem could be entered as prima facie evidence in a number of circumstances, but the gaiety and wit gleam brighter when considered with Exhibits A, B, and C in the Case of the Tragic Mishaps.
I had hoped to offer these exhibits into evidence at this time, but fear I must ask for a recess. I trust a mistrial is not declared in my absence.
The Complete Works of William (Cheese) Whisperer, Abridged.
Commentary by Firecat Lovechild; Deletions by Adeline.
Friday the 13th was an unlucky day
In the world of Cheese and Thunder.
Whispers described how many Y!AP guys
Had wound up six feet under.
This prophetic verse was touched with a curse:
The victims were dropping like flies.
Firecat read of her fate (it was last on the slate)
And was filled with a wild surmise.
She charted the ends of colleagues and friends,
And with a chill dread realized,
That the debonair Cheese, with a laugh like a breeze,
Was a witness to every demise!
The combustible cat couldn’t leave it at that,
Fearing a walk in the park,
She stifled her scorn, because the runes warned
She’d be felled by a question mark.
Firecat assessed the acts that transgressed,
Operandi, means, and conditions.
Completing the puzzle, she wouldn’t be muzzled
But spilled out her wild suspicions.
Was her string cheese theory valid?
Or was it full of holes?
Was the Cheese gouda or a muenster,
And was he on parole?
Cheese smoothly explained that he wasn’t to blame,
But a victim of circumstance.
Every clue that accused could be defused
As the hapless workings of chance.
Firecat’s in a worry that she may have hurried
And the wrong guy was sent to the pen.
Don’t base sentences on speculation –
And read the title again.
I am a determinist, a cynical idealist and an existentialist. I don’t know if reality is real, no one can save the world, and every five minutes the scripts in our heads rewrite themselves. But I believe in truth, the only truth I have and that is what my heart knows. I speak my truth, apologize when I have been wrong, and I do not hold my friendship for “ransom” or any such power games.
I am called jealous and psychotic because I say when a good person posts a poem in a pernicious and obnoxious manner (29 four part sections over weeks) I am stating truth as I see it, which is against TOS guidelines. We must all kiss butts in here, and kowtow to dictatorial “pals”.
O No, Not Me Babe!
this is going to sound very stupid, yet i imagine the first time I got here into the Egypt section, i replaced into asking a question about….i think extremely embarrassed to assert this…yet…it replaced into… Saeed Saleh! Then i got here around the Lebanon section, and that i stayed stuck there. yet presently, i began turning out to be a member of the Egypt section because it must be extra energetic than Lebanon. i do not recognize many people in any respect from right here, even though it must be exciting in this section 🙂
A very intellectual poem. I do have a few interesting true stories to tell, but fortunately they’ll never have to be told in a courtroom.
I am a CW lover and I will shout that from the rooftops.
“and what my heart knows”.. How much heart has Solace shown to other people? Pretty spare pickings.
I cannot comment on your poem – it is eloquent but I do not know all of the factors involved.
theres three sides to every story. yours, mine and the truth.
Pretty good. You should repost it without my initials–you might get more responses.