Why Poets Lie Too Much — Thus Spoke Zarathustra

A disciple asks why Zarathustra once said poets lie too much. Zarathustra bristles at the demand for reasons, then admits the charge is true. He is a poet too, so he is a liar as well. Poets know too little and are slow learners, so they dress things up. They sweeten their wine until strange poisons grow in the cellar.

They love mystery, grass, and lonely hills, and think nature whispers secrets meant only for them. They hang gaudy puppet gods in the clouds in the clouds and call them divine. Zarathustra is tired of the inadequate posing as real. Poets stir their water to look deep. They want to be reconcilers, but he sees them as half-and-half mixers. Their spirit is a peacock sea of vanity, always hunting spectators, even buffaloes.

He cast his net for good fish and pulled up old god-heads instead. Sometimes he found pearls, but often only salt slime. He is weary of poets old and new. Yet he sees a change coming: some poets may become penitents of the spirit. The warning stands. Lovely words are not wisdom, and applause is not depth. Ask what is under the music before you trust the singer.