Friday, 17 May 2013

Notes on the Art of Self-Deception

We have all met them, people who are too stubborn to admit they even might be wrong or mistaken; who won’t compromise because they see even meeting someone halfway as a sign of weakness.

Mind you, even stubbornness has its place in the human psyche; it can be a virtuy or a vice.. For example, it is helping me through my treatment for prostate cancer; a stubborn streak in me refuses to consider (most of the time) what could yet happen.

Oh, but life is too short to dwell for long on its what-ifs and maybes. Carpe Diem, I say!

This poem is a kenning, sometimes referred to as a 'Who am I?' poem.


Few acknowledge
my presence from beginning to end
of their time,
insinuating my way with expertise
worthy of a spy
intent on political obstruction,
slithering in and out
among corridors of a nation’s
central powerhouse

To anyone aware
of my existence, it suits them best
to deny I have any influence
over their affairs, but will insist
they will proceed
with the fairness and diplomacy
(not political expediency)
choosing to ignore my capacity
for sabotage

Though the heart
stay true to all intents and purposes,
I will wreak havoc
among dark corridors of the mind,
slithering in and out
where conscience would tread,
ensuring a degree
of impotence for its slipping up
on a trail of lies

 Find me, a pale imitation of integrity
 strayed in the footsteps of vanity

Copyright R. N. Taber 2011

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