It is man’s nature here to so deceive,
Success therein providing special pleasures;
For by slick wit alone one can receive
Grand benefits where work is not the measure.
For many, falsehood is but deemed a ‘fib’,
For some prevarication plays as art;
Perhaps from Eve evolved the term to ‘rib’
For every truth is yet untrue in part.
Deceit, assured, takes many different forms
For lies alone may save a true man’s life;
The poor may dupe for food or clothes to warm,
Young men may gull to bed a future wife.
Of truth or lies both have their consequence
Yet prize alone oft dictates the assent.
© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.
Loubert S Suddaby poems 