PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

And so for some reason, George and Lucille Bluth are my parents and we are living in a rather elaborate treehouse.  I’m not sure what happened to the old model home.  I must have turned into GOB since I was dating Marta or at least a chica Latina muy caliente.  I field many criticisms from a sister who feels I am unworthy of such love.  Apparently, we have opened up a restaurant and are trying to make our fortunes.  We keep losing money even though the restaurant is always busy.  An obsession with the truth emerges as we try to come to grips with what is going on.  I find myself trying to get down from the treehouse to investigate

So truth from a Bluth

Are we expecting too much?

Lonely view from top

A bookstore employee comes forward to reveal the truth.  The news channel is running a special segment on our family’s deceptions.  It would appear that the end is near  We huddle in the treehouse determined to find a way to overcome this latest adversity.  Someone suggests that we tell the truth and get everything out into the open.  The news anchor on the TV screen is still ripping into the integrity of the family.  Maeby is off in the corner playing coy with George Michael.  The news channel is now on a continuous loop of a news anchor tearing down our family

We concede the truth

but a Bluth don’t know the truth

lie we live too deep