Newbiggin by the Sea Creative Writing Group

How can one really see the world without despair
The cynic would now be wont to say,
That nothing is at all what it seems
Not one thing is clear, un-muddied but perverse,
Spin crashes loud on every side.
The din so un-melodious, all truth sinks beneath its cacophony
So at the middle of this universal spin, the bald unsullied fact remains,
No one believes, spin is real at all, it is just another fantastical game which bored people play
For sure as these shifting sands of, may be, surrounded by the, if and but
With a large dose of, perhaps not, just for good measure,
Prove their own downfall, in the un-acceptance of its hype
For we are become as disbelieving as those masters of spin who feign gullibility rare,
For the ambiguous, and so deftly disdain, therefore, in truth I concur.
I could not possibly comment......