"contradictive" poems
The female temple.
Hollow shell in the minds of men.
An autoclave
for a belly, a copy-and-paste mind
of blasphemies. A page
in man's contradictive bible. Just blondes and brunettes.
Just virgins and non-virgins.
Nothing more than breathing incubators.
I am a person, I have a brain, I say.
They smile at me with a condescending
wink. A nod. Good girl, well done.
They tousle my hair. Well fine, boys.
Watch me climb the ladder with one hand,
backwards, in heels. When I reach the top
I'll ram these six inch Louboutins
straight through your hearts.
May 24, 2014
May 24, 2014 at 3:13 PM UTC
Alabaster Archipelagos
Benevolent Beauty Beaming
Constructive Contradictive Creative Contemplations
Dante's Darling Dances Deliberating Denominatives
Effervescent Escapisms Endearingly Emerge Elusive Edens
Fantastic Flamboyant ******** Flamed Fabulous Fiery Flickerings
Gorgeous Garden Gim'memores Gaudied Garnishing Gasps
Heavenly Hues Humming Heart's Harmonies
Immortaly Impregnated Inspired Ideals
Jessamin Jargon Jacuzzi Jams
Know-how Knacking Knurls
Light-spirited Lovers
Merge Magnificent
Naked Nocturno Nights
Omnipresent Ousia Over Odeons
Palpitations Perfect Peaks Pi Paws
Quintessential Quality Quarrels Question Quarks Quietness
Rododendron's Richameters Rescued Raw Reeling Ruby Realms
Sentient Syllabic Sapfo's Splendidly Spirited Semantics
Turning Turner's Timeless Timeless Twinklings
Unified Undulatory Unsolved Unicorns
Velvety Venice Voyages
Wanton Wantings
Xsylophone Xsantiphas
Yearnin' Yuki's Yen
Zed's Zealous Zen-it-hall Zeppelins
Aug 16, 2015
Aug 16, 2015 at 9:26 AM UTC
Feelings deep, never complete
Crooked hearts, fallen thoughts
Lonesome girl, wrongful scars
Vindicated lips, ripped to the sewn
Fearing all that's let on it's own
Contradictive misconceptions
Shadows crept within perception
Lost between fingertips
Weakness then comes to grips
Hope leaks from the tell
Past that fell, begins to dwell
Freckled smiles, such a misstatement
Disappointment reaches eyes
Dreary sorrow, spite along the beloved
Nothing pushed; all is shoved
Diverted content, oppression left
Soulless veins are all that's kept
Feb 23, 2013
Feb 23, 2013 at 8:20 PM UTC
-They say my head's up in the clouds
The way I speak, think, some would label it as "loud."
I'm unable to deny; thoughts fuse themselves with my specific imagination
No retries, I simply cannot falter. This is what will finally earn me that craved standing ovation.
-First things first, don't you dare look down on me
That ill-thought notion in itself is just a tragic catastrophe
Refusing to put in effort, here I stand
Life ahead of me now? Not a single second planned.
-I'm a joke. A simple disgrace.
A huge understatement to say you hate the sight of my face
I've no excuses for my recent nihilism
I'm free but also bound; psyche imprisoned.
-But your disgust is irrelevant to this entire tangent
I'd do everything again with absolutely no regret
My "loud" thought process is simply contradictive
Parts of my mind nothing more than vindictive.
-Venial in it's purest simplicity
Certain situations exemplify my irrefutable superiority.
So keep it coming, your spited words don't hurt,
"Head in the clouds," expectations similar to dirt.
Mar 13, 2015
Mar 13, 2015 at 10:46 PM UTC
There is a machine
it's hands driven by no singular man
nor collective of men but by the subconscious desires of whole societies,
possibly by all mankind.
It's will; perhaps passed on in our blood
but I suspect a more devious actor at play.
The augmented reality of language ****** upon us in our youth
with such tyrannical force it makes the rule of King Leopold
hardly a murmur in the heart of darkness.
It's reason as noble as it is useful. It aims to connect;
to help share the eloquent, heavenly images
that reside behind our eyes in our most sincere and naked moments.
Noble indeed are the intentions of language but they deceive,
make it hard for our pupils to see what needs to be seen
thus we live as Thoreau has said 'lives of quiet desperation'
blind to what our hearts cry for in the black of our deepest silence.
We deny them in the name of acceptance and comfort
for the fear of failure wear upon us like a heavy robe.
These words they echo such violent doubt
and in days past I had triumphed this lingering hesitation
with holy regard as if it embodied me with some super power.
What lunacy, what madness I endured;
twisted about by the contradictive nature of logos.
No more shall I wear this weight upon me,
cast off the coercive syntax and again like a child;
I think in images.
I may still write, even speak in fictitious representations
but I shall live my friends,
live to see these fiery reflections of light manifested into reality.
Live so that I am not remembered in words
but in the hearts of other men...
Jan 27, 2014
Jan 27, 2014 at 9:36 AM UTC
****
It's seems like no matter how hard I vent
No matter how many words are spoken
How many words are typed
There is so much left unsaid
This is why its been so ******* hard to get over your ***
Please leave me alone ......
Please bother me?
Please
I'm so contradictive
But I swear if you asked me back
I'd cry and fall into your arms
I'm such a *****
Why can't I except you don't want me anymore?
Why can't I stop thinking about you?
Why does this hurt so much?
Did you really have to start this and end it so quickly?
Couldn't you have just told me how you really felt?
Why can't I stop crying?
These recurring dreams make waking up so much harder, ****
I don't want them to end.........
There isn't much I'd honestly say if you were right here next to me.
Because I'm scared now of your rejection
And even though you say I made you happy
Deep down I know its some ********
Or maybe its not
But its easier to feel like you hated me
Because I hate me
And you made allot harder to understand men
To understand you
Even though you were already so complicated to read
I just wanna touch you one last time
**** you
Slap you
Cry with you
I know there was something so much deeper between us that you weren't telling me
And now I'll never know
Just like these words you'll never know
Jan 10, 2014
Jan 10, 2014 at 11:58 AM UTC
A cloud of deception lingers on
Blind devotion and simple mindedness
Attacking evil they become evil
Building weapons out of unkindness
Their compassion is but a whisper
Their hatred a shrill shrieking scream
That’s heard from every mountaintop
Every valley in between
This wisdom is built upon
Interpretations of ancient words
It’s all so contradictive
And dangerously absurd
It’s okay to hate evil
Yet evil is a product of hate
It’s all in the name of some loving god
Who lacks the ability to tolerate?
The only thing I know to be real
Is that the enemy is the hate that we all feel…
Oct 13, 2014
Oct 13, 2014 at 8:19 AM UTC
Ego is top priority
if it isn't for me
then its for the fakes
the one who blast their stereos
and fluff their noses
whiffin' on a whim
better learn how to swim
learn to catch their falls
in a continuous call
back home is where they run
because no life starts with fun
Mama screamin in agony
just to push you out
so you can deliver her joy
but is it for her, or is it for me?
I know it seems shallow
but your too blind to not see
The plastic thoughts
that make up my forehead
gathered and strung out
like a stream of city lights
sitting below as I look down on
all the ones who float around
seemingly lost in the world we took over
Its the human species who is the virus
the ones who hone in and take with out asking
Is this mine? money is the answer
if you got no dinero
then you got **** for answers
Everyone has **** too bad its not tender
yours is so bad it could knock out the lenders
but again, **** is not the answer
so you better save up
and buy all the world up
and drink it all from a shiny cup
and then throw it all up
and do it again and again
for we all are alcoholics
winning a race
against ourselves
in a sin of thought
its you who bought
that necklace
that pretty dress
that watch
that new phone
that mansion in the hills
that ugly ******* poodle
But what does it boil down to?
the classy environment
we are all accustomed to?
Try and wonder what is truly rich
for its heavier than gold cinder blocks
and large jewelry rocks
Its what you have deep in your mind
I have one, now you try to find
if you adjust the lifestyles
the lavish everydays
than maybe you can be rich
without working a single day
I really don't work
and I'm pretty happy
but give me diamonds
and then we'll see whose truly happy
Feb 21, 2011
Feb 21, 2011 at 6:42 PM UTC
What is a poet if not a victim?
For he seems to be the only exception to a world of goodness.
Oh, what better way to depict him, than his own victimization?
What is a poet if not a child?
Granted, some are aged, but they all whine.
What is a poet if not broken?
He does mention his glass shards on the frequent.
Do keep in mind that he will never be doing fine.
What is a poet if not psychotic?
For him and all his kind appear to be mad.
What is a poet if not sad?
Spoiled minds of the depressed kind truly are poetic.
What is a poet if not contradictive?
For him, it's quite addictive.
What is a poet if not guilty?
For he may not always have the ability to plea innocent and play the victim.
What is a poet if not old?
Granted, some are young, but they're all wise.
What is a poet if not whole?
He is full of courage, he is bold.
So tell me, how is he not whole?
What is a poet if not sane?
Sure, he may be vain and a little odd, but he does write with utter sanity.
What is a poet if not glad?
He writes of love and purple lips.
Though his happiness may dip, he truly is a joyous soul.
What is a poet if not a fool?
He does accuse and misconstrue.
What is a poet if not a man, just like me and you?
Jan 31, 2018
Jan 31, 2018 at 7:28 PM UTC
A Blue bird flies
in a flock of red fellows,
and he is the only one
to notice the Difference.
He sees,
but all is in black and white.
He understands,
but does not Know
Why.
He hears,
but there is no sound.
He feels,
but there's no touch.
...Not love...
This is not love he feels.
This 'thing', this, new
'feeling' that is indescribable...
An Ampullae of Lorenzi of some sort
What is it??
It is not love; No,
Not love.
This is just black and white to the rest;
in a two-tone world
This/His Difference
is much easier to comprehend
once comprehended(perceived/grasped) beyond just/ the/ 'weakness'
of being
"different" (seeing that you're different isn't the problem. why are you different? if you are "so" different, there must be a reason. a blue bird sees the diff in a b&w; world not bc of the color, but because of capacity. capability. power. 'force'. Emily saw she was different. and identified. when she speaks of telling truth on a slant and gradually, it's due to the incomprehnsible ability to take in of "the people". she locked herself up bc others didn't get and will chastise her. she was a blue bird who noticed she was blue in a black and white world filled with red fellows. it was easy for her to see bc all were so blatantly different. dramatically different. blue versus red in a black and white world. below is going to explain that now, in times of the same dramatic differences, people wear different clothes. they think they are of all different hues and colors of the rainbow in a black and white world. it is much more difficult to understand what this 'feeling' is when it can't be diffcultly yet blatantly seen in a black and white world of blue and red birds. especially when 'power' pushes all to find individuality yet manipulates homogenization).
When a blue bird flies, in a flock of red fellows,
all who wear clothes of hue, and texture.
brightness and scale
cashmere and rubber (these lines above are supposed to have 2 things that have nothing to do with the other...shows how 'much' there is to add to....materialism for identity I guess)
in a multi-tone world
Spoon fed a (false) (all-known) (media-passed) vision
and encouraged a sense of "self difference" of indifferent similarity (to the next(fellow)) (supposed to be a contradictive. feel, "we are all so different, in the same way")
The blue bird's view is much more convoluted now (raw it down)
hard to see and understand and comprehend a difference when we are all made the same
hard to see and understand and comprehend a difference when we are all told to be different, but made the same.
Aug 15, 2015
Aug 15, 2015 at 9:31 PM UTC
I’ve been wondering
when and where life began;
into the deep pits of depair,
or the consciousness of a ‘given life affair’
I live an epic tale of a broken mind
hungry, lonely,
a feeling of somebody owning me
I’m living but I ain’t breathing
for my consciousness is contradictive
I’m conscious of the faith I inherited
but not of the present of my heritage
I’m conscious of the peace The Lord died for
but I’m captured in a world of escapades
I’m conscious of the freedom I believe to have
but it’s obvious the darkness of anxiety is what I have
I’m conscious of the love and light
where the silent moon brings out a glorious night
where in purity I can smell sunlight
in paradise where I feel the highline.
Jul 2, 2015
Jul 2, 2015 at 10:26 AM UTC
It has been two weeks and three days since I last saw you. Four hundred and eight hours since you looked at me for the last time and told me you loved me. Emphasis on the past tense. It has been much longer than those twenty four thousand, four hundred and eighty minutes that I have known you are no longer in love with me. The one million, four hundred sixty eight thousand, eight hundred seconds separating us still are not a good enough representation of this distance. I lost you, I understand that. I lost you ten days ago. But when did you lose yourself? When did I lose myself? And where exactly did we go? (However, there is no “we” anymore).
In these timeless yet ever so slowly passing days, I have searched. Searched for the answer as to how you were able to scream at me through the telephone, but not man enough to show your face. The answer as to why you pushed the truest, deepest love straight from your arms, out into the abyss of utter solitude. The answer as to when that four letter word started to become nothing more than wasted breathes. And wasted time. And as I search, I heal. Contradictive, but inevitable. No longer are your hands around my neck inflicting involuntary pain and no longer am I able to kiss the very poison that nearly destroyed me. I am free. Sure, I may be in a state of oblivion but no longer am I the dirt you walk home on after betraying me with her. I was strong enough to stop drinking my own blood from your palms. Those filthy, sinful hands of yours that forgot, just for a second, the way they fit into mind. But one second can feel like a ******* eternity if you want it to, and you did. You let those hands feel her in a way you used to only do to me once your parents’ bedroom door was shut, and the light turned off. And you were never man enough to live up to it. Those sins, that ******* disgrace. “Hurting you is the last thing I wanted to happen.” I’m ******* sorry for believing you never would. You’re so good with words, did you know that? But are you so good that you’ll start to believe your own lies? ENOUGH WITH THE DISHONESTY. I stopped kidding myself a long time ago. You’re not mine anymore and I’m not yours!!! Yet I’m still so infatuated on you. This delusional, not-at-all you. I want to save you, but I saved myself instead. I’m seventeen days sober but eternally hungover. And as you can see, it’s a never-ending cycle. I’m running in circles contemplating all that you have done to me. The hour hand and the minute hand never meeting up. I am dizzy and I am broken and I am alone but I can finally breathe again.
Nov 8, 2014
Nov 8, 2014 at 3:28 PM UTC
it's a dizzying impression to see one's own depression
no class or task or master can us for that prepare
that contradictive dissonance, that roguish thought of insolence
rejecting solemn peace of mind and peeling psyche bare
nerves, synapses, signals sent? what ** depression, whence!?
it's to me no mystery, a consequence of sense
a side effect of our accursed proclivity to care
better, then, to not, and give to death concession
the tragedy, the folly, the angst, our depression
Aug 30, 2016
Aug 30, 2016 at 12:28 PM UTC
Contradictive concepts,
The mental flows in depth,
Into society, why me,
Hate things, I see on TV,
Confuse the kids,
About sexuality,
Pedophiles treated safe in society, quietly
We building silent wars,
Against this **********
New age ammo,
Hockey mask and black excursions,
Jun 27, 2022
Jun 27, 2022 at 2:19 AM UTC