We speak in circles to appear profound.
Our logic wobbles, yet we stand our ground.
.
We color words in ideological hue.
Then swear the tint itself makes truth come through.
.
We point at straw men, watch them burn with ease.
Declare our virtue on the social breeze.
.
A sound bite dances, dressed in formal wear.
It struts through headlines, basking in hot air.
.
What’s substance now, if phrased in clever jest?
The form is worshiped, meaning dispossessed.
.
Ad hominem, our daily bread of spite.
A tasty feast where reason loses sight.
.
We sculpt our arguments with plastic grace.
A smile can hide the cracks beneath the face.
.
Emotion rules — the crowd will cheer or boo.
For truth is dull; they want a bolder view.
.
We weaponize the clause, distort the clause.
Applause! Applause! We never mind the cause.
.
Our graphs and charts perform a masquerade.
They bow to bias, empirically unfrayed.
.
False syllogisms waltz across the floor.
They lead the blind to claim they see much more.
.
We duel with data mined from murky swamps.
Each swamp, of course, is where belief still romps.
.
Oh sophist, patron saint of every spin.
You teach us how to lose and call it win.
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We say “both sides” while hiding in the smoke.
The middle burns — the audience the joke.
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We love our tribal logos, neat and bright.
They glow so much we never see the night.
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And through it all, intent becomes disguise.
We sell mistruths, then buy our own supplies.
.
But under rhetoric’s perfumed deceit,
There lies a hunger simple and discreet.
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To speak in clarity — to shape a thought.
Free from deceit, unbent, unsold, unbought.
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Let language serve to forge the lucid flame.
To name the world, not gild it with acclaim.
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For truth requires no costume, mask, or fight.
It stands in humble syllables of light.
.
And should we seek to truly solve, not sway,
We’ll drop the tricks — and plainly say our say.

…

DCG