#contradictory
- for my friends
Sally B.
and
Elisa Maria A.
⭐️⭐️⭐️
two poem titles ‘accidentally’ merge,
like twins whose bodies
inexplicably attach,
two differing themes, somewhat contradictory,
bend~merge~blend, and who am I to disagree, because
both were birthed
inside of me and no
muses-dare-to-be-bothered
to ask my permission
~
settle into my spot,
drinking the first mug
of you know what,
for no clarity in my possess
to the exact direction
these compromising contradictory notions
will take us
and
if you desire to accompany me
as we descend to ascend
to the end of this elegiac, rueful,
conception
~
my first incline
was to design
a poem of the absurdity of life’s
daily contra~sensibilities
the absurdity
that we provide protectective services to our “poli”ticians”*
who cannot find the will to overcome their
shame,
for never finding the money
to protect
OUR
children in their sanctuaries of learning;
**** them and their lying thought and prayers!
~
I tremble to control my rage,
for this bleeds into so many of these obvious indelicate
suppositions that the poem might awry,
but one more please,
~
is it wise, productive, to pay the
sports players, the rock’n roll stars
the millions they want /believe they came to earn,
recalling afternoons in the 60’s at Yankee Stadium
when the family units of my youth
could happily in unity
ensconce themselves in bleacher seats at the ball park
and even buy us each by a parental custodian
ALL
of us a seat+&,
a $1.00 hot dog with all the fixings,
for less than the magnanimous sum
of maybe twenty (!) dollars
~
here, I cease and think about elegance,
the tail side of this newly minted coin of
poetry
~
how we worship our bodies exterior,
unappreciative of inner workings so beauteous
and no one’s innards is not acclaimed,
prettier than the next?
the thot sneaks in,
that what ever the M.C.* you worship
made a terrible mistake
by not designing us inside out,
me imaging me admiring the contours of your
liver,
maybe, but whose to say the curves of your
these hearted words from
within, are
“better”
than mine?
~
there is much elegance in this world,
that goes unseen,
granting the anonymity of being taken
for granted,
which why the poets idolizes the fantasies inherent in
nat-ure,
(yes I know they nat-ed it after me)
this gift to us all,
where all unanimous agree
on the universality
of its
incomparably beautiful elegance
beyond anyone’s human ability
~
some of us flip a switch,
turn a faucet,
never wondering how these amazing feats of glory,
water+powet
just ‘happen’
to transpire,
everyday of our lives,
but not for all…
the elegance of the minds
that imagine and then create
the most elegant solutions
is it not contradictory
that the apportioned profits therof
be not at least in part be available to all/
for the greater good,
like our poetry is?
~here I cease~
pleasantly pleased
that one interior heart,
killed two titles,
So now i can get
my second cup
of you know what
and that is
wonderfully,
elegantly
non-contradictory
fini. nml
Apr 27
Apr 27, 2026 at 8:30 AM UTC
If the devil is in the details,
Then where is god?
In the contradiction?
The vague?
In the hate,
And judgment?
Maybe it lies in the imagination?
Or is it sitting up in heaven
Watching his creation
Go up in flames
Refusing to take any action?
Could you imagine?
©2024
Nov 26, 2024
Nov 26, 2024 at 6:52 PM UTC
You know you are unworthy & undeserving,
Beneath me, love;
And yet, with shame,
You feel the same as you have always
That heart - of mine.
It is kindred, and full of lust.
Hopelessly infatuated,
Though you know we were all wrong.
You can't help it,
And you assure me it isn't obsession
For you have known that,
This is not it.
Just painfully unrequited,
For all your faults.
Aug 5, 2024
Aug 5, 2024 at 9:13 PM UTC
Fools will paint with broad strokes,
Throw large loops,
And apply utterly meaningless labels
To the wide swath of subjects
Which they will not even try to understand.
Common man & academic-
There will be many who approach you
With the guise of knowledge,
Some through the visage of an education,
But will speak and show
Their teaching was not adequate
Lacking and inappropriate.
Character defects? Poor teachers?
And, you ask, where do I fit?
What do I know?
Evidently more if you have the will to ask,
The strength to accept the honest answer.
Jul 2, 2024
Jul 2, 2024 at 12:35 PM UTC
—in all of my ways, I'm not ashamed to
call your name. But so shameful of me to only
say a prayer when things don't go my way. Echoing
the final phrase, _"in Jesus name"_ hoping everything
magically becomes okay.
Seems when I'm in trouble, I only choose to pray
a spiritual prayer that day. And I'll go back to sinning
in about two days.
But let me rephrase, _"God loves you, and cares for you"_
whether I'm telling it to the crowd, or secretly trying to
remind myself. _"Don't envy another,"_ says an envious
colleague, after he congratulations them in an overexaggerating
tone. But when I'm home alone; it's either myself tearing myself
with tears, until my face is torn. Or punching the wall, then
after using the other hand to cope with a little ****
Actually it's a lot—a lot of the times I'm lost in empty
picture screens, till a quick satisfaction is found. Then after
washing the sins off, while staring in the mirror, and not looking
so proud. As the realism comes to light, as the realist sees their
misdeeds way past the dark.
Like a pick-up truck, hauling heavy loads of these burdens.
But we like to pretend our backs don't snack while forcing
to look like an always good person. In third person, we don't
see all the places you're hurting. But it takes first person, for I
to realise I'm inwardly cursing of those new struggles soon
to worsen.
To oppose another, being the face I choose during the day;
opposing my loving father. And in it feeling ashamed, and so
afraid to call His name; only when things aren't looking too okay.
But here's a glass to all __CC's,__ raise your voice if you know you've
been that type of way. Let me keep you in my prayers; perhaps
you'll learn to speak honestly by tomorrow, than with a mouth of contradicting yesterdays.
_...don't worry children,_
_your father still hears your prayer!_
Aug 19, 2022
Aug 19, 2022 at 3:33 PM UTC
there's no need to be alone
so long as someone wants you
no reason to be sad
so long as there's happiness to be had
not for you
not a need to be afraid
unless you live with your fears
one track one line, a straightaway
only left to shift the gears
not for you
this machine
this marvel of a beast
a prize itself
but not for you
Jan 12, 2021
Jan 12, 2021 at 9:37 PM UTC
If you can’t justify
The beliefs and actions
Of your own spouse
All that is left
Is a contradictory
Self!
Dec 13, 2020
Dec 13, 2020 at 5:37 PM UTC
that we may fall
to arms
blades sharpened
on the grindstone of hate
atlas stands
shouldering the weight
that their words
were willed to do wicked deeds
he weeps
at the long suffering
at length and still here
Nov 24, 2020
Nov 24, 2020 at 10:30 PM UTC
the sky is taunting me
so blue and bright
and i wonder how
it could be two things at once
Jan 20, 2020
Jan 20, 2020 at 1:20 AM UTC
First among many.
That was me, to you; the first from the last.
The last among many.
That was you, to me; the last from the rest.
Quite a nice position, wasn't it?
A woman of many talents,
of many stories that were too late told,
of hardships in silence buried.
A lifetime of rollercoasters,
of standing on a pedestal
and being struck to the ground,
heel to skull, teeth to pavement,
threatening to never let up.
Yet you did, and have not spoken of it since.
Do the words 'too little, too late' ring any bells?
Does the phrase 'less is more' still hold true?
In my mind, I see you in an ocean of darkness
Helpless, and friendless,
suffering in silence.
Yet, you're hardened by years of experience,
of hurt in the dark, of scars in the night.
You, an old dog,
and one of your oldest tricks --
licking your wounds in isolation,
willing the world to do its worst
as you weathered the storm,
one that you've already withstood before.
I can only describe you as an Inverse;
a woman who,
ignoring her own palms skinned to muscle, to bone,
built ramps and laid bridges
to give children enough space to run;
who, turning her back from a life of rejection and hate,
showered everyone with only gratitude, and love,
and everything that she knew she deserved but never received.
You, who brought words to life
in a language so deeply underappreciated,
have rendered the world speechless.
You, who have shown strength
in the face of adversity,
have rendered your blood weak.
A woman of contradictions,
contradictions of the best kind --
for even in death, we celebrate life.
Nov 2, 2019
Nov 2, 2019 at 4:10 PM UTC
bravery is but
another, fancy word for
painfully stupid
yet coward, is not
intelligent either. you
must balance the two
Apr 10, 2019
Apr 10, 2019 at 11:52 PM UTC
I am paradoxical;
an oxymoronic anomaly.
all my nightmares are made
of daylight,
but I’ll still sleep to escape
the darkness.
I am paradoxical;
an absurd abnormality.
it’s a chaotic peace,
loud with it’s bated breath
and bittersweet ring.
I am paradoxical;
an irregular oddity.
my counterparts are contradictory,
and I change to chance
the possibility
that opposites attract.
and we’re all just paradoxed;
argumentative attractions.
there’s no stopping at the end,
when the sun is low
in the soft red sky.
where my nightmares are made
of daylight,
but I’ll still sleep to escape
the darkness.
Jan 31, 2019
Jan 31, 2019 at 9:27 PM UTC
In Greek mythology, the god of love, Cupid,
is the counterpart of Thanatos, the god of death.
You’re probably thinking, that’s an odd pair.
The Greeks were all about odd pairs.
Are you really surprised?
Because love is contentment and happiness.
Whereas death,
Well, no one really wants to talk about that.
But these obviously contradictory themes
Are more similar than we think.
One, At some point we’re gonna experience either.
Two, you don’t want to experience either on your own.
No one wants to die alone
Nor have unrequited love.
And three, the sensations of both are eerily similar.
Now I know why you take my breath away
And why my heart palpitates
whenever I see you;
The same sensations that someone gets
When they’re having a cardiac arrest.
Falling in love is like being on the precipice of death
Maybe that’s why they call it “falling” in love
Because when you fall from something,
You will splat on the ground,
With your insides out there for someone to see
And you’re wondering
if they like what they see.
Aug 9, 2017
Aug 9, 2017 at 5:45 AM UTC
They say they love rain, they seek shelter
They say they love sun and open umbrella
They say they love wind and close windows
They say they love light, but have darkness inside
They say they love nature, but they stay in city
They say they love me, now what they are upto?
May 30, 2017
May 30, 2017 at 4:14 AM UTC
An intrinsic detail on the tip of my nose
A fork in my tongue with no words to say.
Just shady tress and shady things
Less confusion and more hope for me.
A tear every now and then to shelter my eye
A body in my hands and no personality
A hair on my head that falls every hour
The last moment of my life turns around.
I don't want you to see this other side
The grass is greener here
The restriction is protective, the pain is adamant.
You aren't the only one, keep your head down
Pull up your pants while I put my charm on.
Sep 16, 2016
Sep 16, 2016 at 12:25 AM UTC
Lately I feel
I am being crushed
between tectonic plates
of Impossibility
The advice of those around
contradictory and senseless
The constraints offered
leave no possible solution
Then I see
that it's not me
The game they gave
has no salve
I'm in the wrong game
This game is actually
Theirs
Aug 24, 2016
Aug 24, 2016 at 5:57 AM UTC
So close yet so far
So thin yet so fat
So kind yet so horrible
So pretty yet so ugly
Why are you so contradictory?
So warm yet so cold
So positive yet so negative
So alive yet so dead
So happy yet so sad
Why are you so contradictory?
So tall yet so small
So right yet so wrong
So even yet so odd
So simple yet so complicated
Why are you so contradictory?
May 27, 2016
May 27, 2016 at 3:20 PM UTC
Take my flight away from me
Remove the pride I own
Sell it to the world you've concluded
To be a reality I need to know
Persuasion into a kind of love
Trying to build a bond
Then take it away from me again
And closing up my doors
Take my traits away from me
I'll like to see you try
Because till the end of time
I know what will remain mine
Seal up my doors
That was opened for you
Seal it good
Don't let me through
Because I'm locking myself up
Safe and sound
In my own little world
Without you around
*I will never speak again
Even if I do
It will only be the things you want to hear
To fulfil your contradictory*
May 22, 2016
May 22, 2016 at 3:32 AM UTC
"We fight war for peace!"
Contradictory.
"Their evil won't cease!"
Based on what I see,
You bomb these countries,
Making refugees
Who just want to flee
This whole travesty.
People helplessly
Leave all these cities
Because you destroyed
Everything they've known.
With sinless lives, you wrongly toyed.
It seems "their evil's" not alone.
Mar 3, 2016
Mar 3, 2016 at 11:42 PM UTC
Sorry to trouble you,
but there’s something I ought to tell you now that you’re here.
If you came here looking for an interesting poem to read,
I’m afraid you’ve come to the wrong place.
Why?
Because this is not a poem.
This is not a narrative detailing a certain someone doing something in a certain time and place.
This is not a series of lyrics longing to be converted into music.
This is not a picture made up of a thousand words – or thousands for that matter.
This is not a fancy epic or tragedy or comedy bound by the treacherous laws of stanzas.
This is not an ode to a pre-existing memory – or several memories for that matter.
This is not a set of verses born free from the daunting laws of stanzas.
This is not even a collage of pre-existing poems mixed and matched to the heart’s content.
Simply put – this is anything but a poem.
Even if it was,
I doubt that it would be the kind of poem you would want to read.
You would most likely find better poetry somewhere else.
Here, there is no narrative, no subject matter and no context.
Therefore, if this was a poem,
it would be about absolutely nothing and have no meaning whatsoever to anyone.
That’s why I’m telling you that this is not a poem.
That’s why I’m advising you to look for a real poem elsewhere.
But, no matter what I say,
you wouldn’t listen to me anyway, would you?
I made it clear from the beginning that this is not a poem,
but you read it through to the end regardless.
Why is that?
Why would you take the time to read something about absolutely nothing?
Were you curious?
Did you just happen to stumble upon this while minding your own business and decide to take a peek out of curiosity?
Or were you bored?
Were you feeling desperate to find something completely different from the poetry you would normally read?
Either way,
this was never meant to be a poem waiting to be read.
And yet, in spite of that,
you read it anyway.
For that, I feel that the least I can do in return is say this:
Thank you.
Nov 5, 2015
Nov 5, 2015 at 5:08 PM UTC
If my bed was bigger would you have laid with me
Will you excuse the squeeze in the place of comfortability
Our bodies close, replace our blankets with the heat
flowing, mellifluously reverberating, from within
My heavy mind, spiralling in self abhor
Dawdles on a pillow, simpering with decay
Solace I discovered in your arms instead, taming the uproar
The bane of your predicament, your spirits sway
The twilight of distraught tickles the hairs on my arms
But now comes the noon of melancholia.
My Ivy legs cripples your limbs, the bruises I see- constellations
Contradictory you lament, the cries a synergy of appoggiatura
A long time ago, you asked for my hand
Belittling the shards in my bossoms
Dismissing my remonstrance; to Hell with it
“I can bear it, I know I can.”
But you couldn’t. No, you wouldn’t
Your body has began to gnaw
The dilapidated bed creaks, your temper peaks
“I’m out, loving you isn’t the law.”
Sep 7, 2015
Sep 7, 2015 at 1:32 AM UTC
Drove away, broke the breaks
Closed my eyes... where am I now?
Perhaps I've sailed
too close to the sky.
Rowing and rowing,
unminding the splinters.
To bleed just a little
And bleed more and more.
If I'd fly an airplane,
I'd explore the seas
To chuckle underwater
watching a submarine burn.
Went a little insane
or so I was told.
Said they'll build me a fortress,
but they'd call it an asylum.
They'd always visit
when most are fast asleep
Running back and forth
as their tails touch the floor.
I love how their eyes glisten,
clustered stars in a black hole.
But they only saw me once
through the window on the door.
Freed at last!
Or so I thought.
They gave me shelter -
the finest they had.
Pinpointing I was happy
whilst their words deny
So mute the sound,
see how they open their mouths.
Maybe I was stable
so they let me be.
But the more I stay,
the more I drift away.
They may see the goodness,
but I only see the sins.
Crawled back to my asylum -
the place where I should be.
Apr 7, 2015
Apr 7, 2015 at 11:39 AM UTC
I dont want simple;
Feed me yourself in silver spoonfuls.
I want simple,
Lie to me,
and tell me
I am not an Animal.
I am an analyst-dissecting details.
4Am fresh snowfall
I will remain capable!
Make first new footprints,
in a circle...
Till I reach the middle.
I will remain incapable of
Tying my shoes.
I am a participant in social warfare.
Looking forward:
Possible encounters &
Spring Rain.
Fantasizing both in measure.
All I am to you is what you see, and
What you hear,
smell,
touch,
taste.
All you are to me so far
Is what I see, and what I hear;
So i am looking very hard,
And I am listening very closely.
I want logic,
Tasting honey when I ******
I want harsh confusion,
Complete absence of logic in it's essence.
Kissing a part of you that potties.
Now,
I can remain content in chasing my tail; I sleep balled up on top of the ocean, my clothes and fur strewn;
Chewing paws in strange positions.
I want contradiction, an
Assurance of the Devil & a
Total disregard for ghosts.
Constructive chaos:
Dress like ghosts on Acid and
Wear rollerblades.
I want my resumé to read:
>works well with others,
>great fighter, &
>An outstanding Lay.
I want to leave behind dreams,
I want to rent a room in your
dream bed&breakfast;,
Sometimes sharing yours, but always paying rent on time for mine.
Sometimes
swinging an axe against a rough stump,
Craving lemonade and
Spring Rain.
Part of me wants to grow old and
Mad, and sit by rivers; I could smoke ****** from a wizard pipe for my
Sore joints.
( I am alright with the possible outcome of Alone. )
[ I would rip my hair out,
Glue it to my body, & become
A boy in wolf's clothing. ]
I want creative destruction,
Mayhem,
borderline Mind ****
Learning to pick the banjo half-decently.
That Deliverance tune.
And walk around ski towns
Scaring the **** out of some tourists
And other antagonists.
Jan 25, 2015
Jan 25, 2015 at 2:53 PM UTC