Pilate once asked of Jesus, "What is truth?"
The Magus asked the same to a school teacher on an island.
We've yet to get an answer not forthcoming.
Andre Rand grants an interview one day,
Changed his mind the next day.
Where are the bodies buried?
Maybe I'll tell you, then maybe I won't.
We all like to play games, don't we?
We've problems keeping the narrative straight.
What with alcoholics & junkies & all
With sudden razor sharp memories clarified when sober,
In minute devilish details too bizarrarie.
Yet can they ever be reliable?
What happened with two blondes that vanished in Aruba?
How many did Henry Lee Lucas kill?
Two hundred? Three thousands perhaps? Or just fifty?
Who was the real Jack The Ripper & who wasn't?
The Jury's still out about that one.
Same goes for the Boston Strangler.
Any certainty that this guy really got caught?
Or did we get lucky?
Devil's in the details with the Herman W. Mudgett case.
Not everybody knew exactly what in his Murder Castle.
Too many holes in the plot involving Osama Bin Laden.
What with the Navy Seal Six invading his compound.
None too eager to find out what the real story is or was.
West Memphis Three finally let out scot free.
The courts were unwilling to retry the case.
Too complicated they say.
Perhaps too unwilling to discover what really happened
In the Robin Hood Hills.
Already known about the three boys & their deaths
But the narrative got corroded with Satanic Panic.
Take a look/see at the unsolved:
Black Dahlia, William Desmond Taylor, Jon Benet Ramsey
And most famously The Monster Of Florence.
Let's not forget that Lizzie Borden bit.
Nobody wants her hanged yet shunned her they did.
Perhaps in the back of their minds,
Maybe she did kill those two.
Same goes for Casey Anthony.
She's not exactly truthful herself.
But the haunting question still remains:
How did the little girl die?
Any relations to any above mentioned?
It's all about the spinning of the truth.
A matter of perspective.
Every war is a propaganda.
It's the turning a trick or two in untruths unknown.
It's all about the control of the narrative.
Who gets to tell them?
Solving them produces migraines,
Instigates nervous breakdowns,
Not to mention destruction of reputations elsewhere.
We all want to tell stories around campfires
To disturb our sleep for good or ill.
Pretend that crimes are ever so easily solvable.
Many versions of Sweeney Todd are caught & executed.
Now we go back to sleeping comfortably, nicely, & safely.
Believing all is right with the world & with the universe.
We all like that, don't we? Why we like playing games?
To date, there are many various versions of the truth.
Countless versions of lies & deceit easily dispensable.
Not to mention multiple speculations
Extrapolated between fact & fiction.
Just take your pick of any you like.
All readily available in some vending machine
Installed somewhere in Schenectady
Or most likely in the cybernetic confines of the interwebz.
However, few words to the wise & perhaps to the foolish:
Beware of the disappointments ahead.
Disillusionments can be catastophic
When facts monkey wrench your truth.
Could, & would very well be another urban legend.
Sometimes, a pinheaded prick,
Presumed, & believed innocent,
Trips up getting caught in another scene of the crime.
Very likely guilty as sin already.
Heard the Devil's laughter in the dark background.
"Joke's on you, sucker," he said.
I returned with a retort: "Laugh it up, asshole."