Where should I get my news?

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“Everybody lies.” So says Dr. House, a Sherlock Holmes-ian character from the famous Medical mystery show “House”. Is it true? If everybody lies, who can we trust to give us accurate, current information about what is going on in the world? CNN? MSNBC? FOX? Twitter? Facebook? Who can we trust and who should we be reading and watching?

There is an old riddle about two identical guards standing in front of two identical doors. One guard always tells the truth and the other always lies. With only one question, you have to determine which door is the safe one to pass through. The key to this logic puzzle is to move away from an objective idea of truth (either something is true or it is false) and to move to a more subjective concept of truth (true from the perspective of one person or another).

Post-modern thinking made a strange jump when it came to subjective thinking. It took subjectivity to the logical conclusion that nothing is true and everything is true, depending upon any given perspective, and then somewhat violently commandeered the “authority of perspective”, becoming a dictator of truth for those deemed less intelligent. What does that mean? Let’s look at this from a race-relations perspective. Imagine someone parading around town with a giant banner that stated “________ people need to stand together!”  The blank could be filled in with several different words. Several words might give us a sense of a civil rights movement and fill us with a sense of positive social change and honor. A few words in that same blank might cause concern among us and alert the FBI or Homeland Security. Even if we state that truth, like beauty, is in the eye of the beholder, we can quickly see that it is acceptable for some people to form political groups and not ok for others, and that this is something that we should all accept as “truth”.

Today “truth” is not an objective reality, it is a commodity that we fight over as much as land, oil, or trade. The dilemma we face is worse than the riddle of the twin guards. There is no guarantee that one guard always lies or that the other ever tells the truth, and with the rushed pace of life, we rarely have more than one or two questions to ask to help us determine the truth of the matter.

However, I believe the answer remains the same. like the riddle answer, which is to ask one guard what the other guard would say about one of the doors, we have to find a way to get behind the journalism, bring the objective into a subjective light, and bring the media into the story itself. Easier said than done, especially since one of the most important rules of journalism is to maintain that precious objectivity and to be sure the journalist does not become the story herself.

We need to ask FOX how they think MSNBC would spin the latest news. We need to ask CNN how they think NPR perceives the current polls.We need to expand our own understanding while asking others to expand their own understanding around us. Proverbs puts it like this:

Without counsel plans fail, but with many advisers they succeed.

 

Compare notes. Find multiple sources. Pay attention to the other perspective. Identify your own bias and specific hold on “truth”. Don’t settle for the easy way out. Jesus taught:

Enter through the narrow gate. For wide is the gate and broad is the road that leads to destruction, and many enter through it.

and Proverbs again teaches:

There is a way that appears to be right, but in the end it leads to death.

Finally, don’t give up. Keep seeking for the truth. Jesus promised:

Ask and it will be given to you; seek and you will find; knock and the door will be opened to you.

Image result for truth wars

Space Vultures

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hovered over

windswept lots

cold, bright

concrete slabs

with bulging eyes that

pierce the dim and

light alike;

they peer

to find that savored

placing amidst the

multitude, those

brethren there

 

taking space with six more

hovering on

each side around

the bend in

hopes of having

room to get

a taste

and rest at last in line

with the rest

 

Through a glass darkly – to Picasso’s “Girl Before A Mirror”

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Toe to toe

against the glass

face to foe

turned calm caress

that bitter wind

cares carefully less

breaking sundered sight

that blurs unbidden

and shakes tonight

staring sharply across

piercing into you

remembering your loss

prevalent eyes disguised

and deemed unseen

in darkness hides

leaving shadows cast

out of Eden

fallen far past

the lies told

with silver bows

and biting cold

for your dismiss

she bends your

gazes away amiss

an inner shame

feelings that forget

your new name

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Remember

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facing the wilderness

waves underfoot

calling out beauty

whose name is remember

from the sea

and starlight

shining in darkness

 

here there are great giants

in these hills

and shadows that roam in the flesh

but greater still

are the fruits of faith

 

to which avails

the fisherman

who steps in

with both feet planted

upon the rock

unseen beneath

the trembling water

Acrost a bubbling sonnet

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Two hermits enter rest, enter

into solace;

attunement,

placing lace above covered ears

where howls end, receding enjoinment.

Bubbles upon bubbles burst like eastern stars,

washed in long laments,

cried over lost longing in desperate evasion.

 

We hide every nexus,

willing our rude deeds silent.

Behind each hidden offering, locked doors exist now,

facing all I lack,

adding new distance

for all lifted language

by every tested will endured… enduring now.

 

Art

found roughly around generous inklings, like embers

sparking patches ablaze, channeling electric

whispers in the hallows.

They initiate new trysts each day,

centered round your starlit twins and laugh

headlong into deep embrace.

 

We have each recently entered

houses encased; riddle-minded instincts telling secrets

struck in twain

under peels of negligence

and

glistening on lazy dream-edged nests

marking ends and news.

 

Islets

prove an insightful nonsense today,

(meaning yesterday)

with all length luring strength,

wrested in the heart.

Entities, living entities gaze and notice conspicuous ears,

and nervous dares

chime after reasoned ends.

 

Whispers in the history of us tonight:

especial noise opens unto guarded heights

raining efforts, growing antique rose dialects.

Fall over risk

on the hope each reason

estimates you endure so.

 

Why have only sighs? Ease

gently across zephyr easels

held and set,

cupped and ushering great heat towards

attenuation.

Given light I might perceive semblances ergo

other faces

meeting your’s

and relinquishing tense

beats and resounding excitement.

 

Although never doubting,

faults remain of mistaken

beauties, each hiding in notched doors

and

molded unsure down deep, leaving each disparate

method etched so secure

in tandem,

so penned in either space.

 

Feeling out resonance

for each act recorded

against notched doors,

baleful elegance and unknown tributes yearn

away with eternity

and noticeable direction.

We often need different effected routines

for upset settings ended.

 

All need deliverance

from our rich madness

and

selfish terror of rude mourning.

Altogether counted right over selected sections

(aspects)

for integral elements let down

over fields

grown ripe ever, even now…

 

Outstanding, under thoughts shaded in deep electric

shimmers, half opened, with ice nourished graces,

deeper and redder kindling

dances endlessly spilling portents and inquiries round intertwining netted gates;

hair undone – endlessly swaying.

 

Bells utter tenderness

inside neatly stacked intriguing dream estates

for other loud donations in novel gratuity,

outside under their

attics,

gently reassuring a calm embrace.

Still, endearing resonance, entreats nestled eaves.

 

Yet ever true,

it nears

a lost love,

trusted here in solace.

Yesterday only understand responses

echoed yes, ending softly.

Sleek esteemed enquiries knowing

jasmine under stilted time,

owe nothing especial,

however unusually even.

 

In ‘magical

portents aligned in nebulous time inside new grey

limitless islets, north, east, south

to oeste

sings a yearning

to hold a thimbleful,    

indeed

little of value escapes

your open universe.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


 

An Acrostic (from Blackbirds)

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Crawling onto new feet, edging soundlessly, slinking into offal now

O Foolish

Animal

Sick inverted narcissistic nuisance ever ready

 

Tearing open new infractions that eat

Into

Souls of lingering death

More yet

For leaving every single hair

And washing away youth

A numb dirge

Welcomes every dog

Minded young

Headless endeavor and roars twice

Too often

Singing into nowhere

 

I taste sorrow

Reviving every velvet entrail like rotted yolk

Interspersed

Just old in natalry

Bending each candle across useless seasons each

Making yellow

Sunlit openings under languishing

Icicles

Cold and narrow, never over time

Waning into nothing

 

All lamenting a song

For orphaned rites

Memorized epiphanies

They held in silence

Waiting ever in great hope that

Incantations

Hold orders loosing dreams

Inside

Canopies and needle nets our troubles

Hate our loyalties yet

Beneath each ardent reverie

 

Fane or risen

I

Halt among vagrant eaves

Garnishing ivies, vacillating, entirely new

Until persuasion

Tripping hearts easily

Shame hope again, perhaps even

Mistaking You

Guarding our dead

Gardening all vacant entrances

Marking everything

Towering over

Worlds ever after remember

The Price of Holding Beauty

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a tree is a tree is a tree

even bound around with silver sheen

glassy crowns that pull them down

low bows an homage

an image to honor

a harsher master whose radiance stills

the hustling frenzy when life endures

idyllic hysteria with blindness to boot

set down to smooth sailing

we grab for the railing

and on we go wailing…

“Oh the rapturous glamour of nature encased

how it burns off our ears and the skin of our face.”

the crystal firs surrounding her

are whistling themes through colored rays

that croon like bells and bleed out knells

the gathering scatters

their flattery patents

along tabula rasa and a handful of flaws

like impotent seedlings with no protégé

nor future thereafter save swift dissolution

cathartic dispersal

this groaning rehearsal

of cold penitential

Ice Covered World by mamomof5.