What's True?

Lao Tsu told me once to follow purity and there, across from Jeffry, was mucky. The thoughts shared only opened us for blood-letting and we carried no bandages. We knew what we believed. Following our teachers was harder than first thought, while strangely easy.
     You can do what you believe in,
     but not everyone agrees with you.
Hope died when they put Woody Guthrie in the mental home.
He couldn't be blamed after so many years believing in Liberty only to watch her bound and gagged.

Have you read a newspaper? I am told that the ones living around me ought to be watched with the skeptic's eye,
and to believe in The Cause;
that Social Media needs a strong embrace so that when things go wrong, I can complain to everyone at once.

Things are fine, see? Trouble is, I mean, what's not fine, is how frequently we're told all is awry. If things truthfully were so bad, I would not find out in HD Television.

The mad man on the street, fingertips burned orange from rolled cigarettes without filters; his high cheeks bright red, his beard covering his weathered jowls; only a failure wears clothes that dirty at his age; warned me that yesterday is lost, so forget about it and move forward, but don't look to tomorrow, because it is only a fantasy. Yesterday is now a ghost and tomorrow is only two-dimensional.