Best Contradicts Poems
They start thick—
not the polite kind you stir into tea
not the mild drizzle on breakfast toast
but the kind that runs hot
slow
dangerous
coating your tongue before you grasp
the price of its pleasure.
They start golden—
dripping off the comb
sun pressed into their marrow
too rich, too syrupy—
gumming up the gears of your schemes
too luminous for hands that flinch from light
too wild for walls meant to contain them.
You want squeeze-bottle love.
Clean.
No bees.
No stingers.
No buzz.
But they ferment in kitchens
where no one thanks them—
same way their grandmothers did
spooning fire into each serving
stinging their own tongues
just to stay sharp—
drizzling down your better judgment staining
Sunday shirts
unraveling wedding vows
spilling past boundaries
no one asked them to obey.
They get called—
too much.
too loud.
too open.
too shut—
like they were born to fit into your grip
instead of slipping right through it.
You try to jar them.
Slap on barcodes:
Best before.
Handle with care.
Discount if damaged
for quick sale.
But wild honey won’t kneel—
it contradicts logic
defies preservation
reason
perfumes the air
wrecks your thirst for tradition.
You mistook raw for reckless
Reckless for ruin
Ruin for something to fear.
You laughed when they wept—
like grief was a spectacle
like tenderness was weak
like softness
was a defect to be filtered out.
But by the time you realize
she’s the rarest thing
you ever tasted—
she’s already sweetening
the hands that never swatted her
And now,
we sit here—
jars without lids,
spoons still sticky—
trying to remember
what it meant to taste something
that never begged to be caged.
Maybe—
the glass wasn’t meant to hold her.
Maybe—
it was meant to shatter—
to let something wild
and feral
flood in
and leave you
pleading
for ruin.
—it’s a reckoning,
unapologetic,
untamed,
final.
Categories:
contradicts, extended metaphor, fire, freedom,
Form:
Lyric
Do you dare to hear this story,
listen to the rant of a cuckold tale
This story will give you nightmares
if your masculinity has begun to fail
Despondent voice of said henpecked man
was recorded secretly at a support group therapy session
He swear he loves his wife,
don't know why he picked up the knife
Says he has a wonderful life,
but something is not quite right
Then he contradicts what he just said,
the reasons why are mixed up in his head
He confess that he just wanted to scare her ...
frighten her bad
But he wasn't too convincing,
she only started to laugh
She commanded him to put the knife down,
then started to throw her 130-pound weight around
Used sex as the ultimate weapon,
said love was going out of town ... indefinitely
He said he begged like never before,
pleading with her to please don't leave out the door
Said she just slapped his pride on the backside,
told him the bank account was gonna take a nosedive
Raised her eyebrows and gave a baleful stare,
then said he was having it too good
He said when she gets to talking like that,
he's learned over time not to say anything back
Letting out a small sigh, he said
he simply becomes a docile little boy
and go sit elsewhere
Says the only time he roars like a lion,
is when she tries to take away his adult toys
Trying to stop him from getting season tickets
is gonna cause him to make a lot of noise
So she just let him be for awhile,
let him calm down ... give him a warm smile
He said being henpecked ain't so bad,
he gets his favorite meal after breaking mad
Yet and still, he seemed kinda sad
Now that the group therapy is over,
he said his wife is gonna come get him
And make a point to remind him
of how he dresses so bad
That he's such a loser, just like her dad
Categories:
contradicts, abuse, marriage, perspective, satire,
Form:
Verse
To write in a 'poem' that one is perfect
and worse yet, made that way by God
is to be guilty of arrogant disrespect
when it's yourself you praise and laud.
A humble person, who is mild and meek
would never pen something so absurd
and risk insulting God... His anger pique.
Such a person belongs in a swineherd.
It was only Jesus Christ, born of Mary,
God's begotten Son, the only perfect human.
Of one who contradicts that, be wary.
Such a person lacks humility and acumen.
Categories:
contradicts, god, poetess,
Form:
Rhyme
As wisdom falls through apertures of the sky
forever evanescent in nature passing us by
We are told too frequently to know our place
or there'll be consequences that we'll face
Still, a man must do what a man must do
sometimes this concludes taking a different avenue
When a man is confronted with many conflicts
he cannot live so his life contradicts
Standing alone this may entail for a while
with nothing but your own thoughts to beguile
Yourself you see in a mirror of crime
repeating the same offense "life" every time
Categories:
contradicts, analogy,
Form:
Couplet
Hawaii's Kilauea volcano erupted,
as lava flowed over its cauldron!
The quiescent
Goddess awakes!
What once was a placid pool of liquid lava,
has morphed into a geyser of magma.
And it's ejecting molten plumes of rock
high into the atmosphere, lighting up the night.
When Gaia flows into the sea,
is she giving birth to the land?
Time contradicts;
permanency.
Categories:
contradicts, 10th grade, 11th grade,
Form:
Verse
Beautiful boy
Lost
Inside this man
Skin so soft
It contradicts
His fists
Categories:
contradicts, sad
Form:
Free verse
there may be times when you think that everything's changed...
but you look around, and you still don't see anything for what it is...
so you willingly forfeit the hope of what could be, in exchange for the theory that should be.
so naturally, you incline towards your conviction that things simply must be this way...
and anything else that contradicts what has been true since you've been alive, was conceived by the mind of an unborn fetus.
you don't just want to avoid pain, you want to hurt it back.
you don't just want perfection, you want to make it look easy.
you don't just want to live in spite of everything, you want to work against the world's form and shape, because of the prehistoric theory that it symbolizes true strength.
and what will you do when you have all those things?
you'll always feel like a soldier in a garden.
will you trample over every flower, squirrel, and anthill...
simply because you deem it to be inferior, and that no flower, squirrel, or ant can say otherwise?
life will go on.
so why choose the death of everything,
over the life and oneness of it all?
Categories:
contradicts, anger,
Form:
Free verse
SUCH BIG IDEAS
White man lies.
He is just a crack among the flies.
He is not blowing any minds.
He must know that the lives he contradicts despise him.
His stance is he is walking for a cause.
He states that it is illegal to discriminate against White folks.
He expresses that White people conceived the country they reside within.
Therefore, all others are here as a privilege.
White man lies.
He is a crease cracked amidst the blow flies.
He has contradicted lives to stay minds.
His setting is social injustice.
His conflict is those who desire social justice.
Affirmed now is his actions of racism and profiling.
White man, from me to you, your cause is to destroy.
If not, why do you negate any life strong?
When law is not applied, this hurts all.
Evidently, you do not understand that structure is formed.
Your belief is that you can just ignore the truth told.
Thus, never to reform the rights that has been removed.
White man, white man, white man wake-up!
You do not own the world and the world you live in is moving on toward your downfall.
That is the reality of what has been done.
Such big ideas were not ever to be.
The United States of America represents diversity.
_________________________________________________________________|
Written 5/16/2016!
Categories:
contradicts, change, character, community, conflict,
Form:
Dramatic Verse
To parents
I am the replacement
The new hope
To medicine
I am multi donation
An organ harvest
For a sick nation
To agriculture
I am renewal , without obligation
Mutton always dressed as lamb
To politicians
I am a universal pawn
To be bartered or thrown away
To war
I am the never ending battle
Action replays , tactics displayed
But without end
To peace
I am countless new white cross's
The reason you never count losses
To you
I am answers, questions, fear and elation
That contradicts all of creation
To me
I am a lost soul
I am freedom without control
Petri dish exploration
How can you call me son, if I am no relation
Categories:
contradicts, caregiving, change, christian, conflict,
Form:
Free verse
On the death bed for cessation, a platform free from brawl,
I perceive in peace my debilitating breath.
And give off a brief one as I hear my call,
The one from the train to the paradise.
My soul boards it on, waving a good-bye to my body and kins.
The journey commences, the patrons graciously welcome me with smiles.
I gladly accept the offered window seat to witness the realm free from sins,
Inhaling the pristine air of contentment.
Breaching the clouds, up above the sky we go,
The chirping of birds, the whistle of the engine a merry music to our ears.
The spruce of blossoms of all the shades that we know,
A pleasant company all along the path.
The track so well embellished with assorted vines.
The aroma of satiation by the sight of mighty green grooves,
The breathtaking millisecond vision sends shivers down our spines,
Of the fiery magnificent flight of the phoenix.
Revelation of the antiquities, is more a shocking miracle than delight.
The Unicorn's excursion although contradicts it being mystique.
Is crystal clear to our eyes, to our intellects with dynamic energy we are forced to fight.
Such is the greatness of the train journey.
The train ceases and the Train-master affirms the journey concludes at the moment.
My face dims down, I wish it would go on forever.
My most awaited end I've reached, but a great transition is encountered by my temperament.
Once, only for once again,
I want to travel in 'The train to the Paradise'.
Categories:
contradicts, desire, dream, fantasy, imagination,
Form:
Narrative
Bring back our corruption to us, it is
better than the righteousness we see now.
Situation here has turn sour and bitter,
Dollar rising, Naira falling, Poor men vomit
venom whilst the Rich craze all over the
street for food to feed their troubled stomach.
And the youths has no option than foreign land.
We have more of ants in the land than the
usual Elephant that crowd our street for fun.
No one is alone, thorns on the lips it is; whose
mouth is going to close without him screaming?
Find the solution to the problem not the person causing the problem, solution is our future hope.
Bring back our corruption, we need it back!!
It is better than the white hunger seen in the street,
Hunters hunting the haunting spare of illusion,
Jagabanized faces fashioned to kill our pride.
Bring back our corruption we pray thee our lord,
bring back our black heart and return the whites,
Silence isn't empty it is full of answers to questions.
Bring back the street light to light the street,
bring back the tomatoes from the cow's belly,
Bring back the tooth you took from the child!!
Bring back our corruption! Bring back our pride!!
It is better than the hardship that rape us daily.
We can still bank our heart in corruption than
The Horse of promises made in the blank cheque.
Here is distressed without corruption of old,
righteousness contradicts environmental right.
Let's journey with pleasure without been drained,
we've seen great evil without this arms of government seated at the right hand side of leaders.
We can keep treading in the paths of fools,
just hand over our corruption to us to keep,
it is better than the goodness we see here.
(C) John Chizoba Vincent
Voice Of Vincent 2016
Categories:
contradicts, africa, art,
Form:
Free verse
Hot humid heatwave
Discomfort percolates long;
Sudden drenching rain
~~~~~~~~~
Sexy curvy strides
Vibrant elegance catwalks;
Hungry eyes focus
~~~~~~~~~
Two stray cats fighting
Furious body language here;
Small tigers draw blood
~~~~~~~~~
Ancient atmosphere
Old tea house in the city;
Strange calligraphy
~~~~~~~~~
Bus-stop commotion
Two drunken men in a brawl;
Tipsy foreign tongues
~~~~~~~~~
Temple bells sounding
Distant chanting rituals heard;
Prayer for our times
~~~~~~~~~
Late night wordplay moves
Missing lines stray on the verge;
Nothing much to say
~~~~~~~~~
Abrupt morning rain
Disrupts our simple routine;
Extra sleepy dreams
~~~~~~~~~
Here journeys begin
Trace cryptic constellations;
Dream upon a dream
~~~~~~~~~
Joy and peace appeal
Insidious intent conspires;
Clash of conflicts hurl
~~~~~~~~~
Little red-dot nation
Multi-lingual harmony;
Hypertensive calm
~~~~~~~~~
Beware of conflicts
Sensitive notions preside;
Keep the status quo
~~~~~~~~~
The Singapore wave
Echoes of the Kallang roar;
SEA Games here in June
~~~~~~~~~
Pretty play on stilts
Comely countenance lights May;
Orchard Road hazard
~~~~~~~~~
Listen to dawn light
Hurl dazzling colours that play;
Blurry eyes awake
~~~~~~~~~
Moment of madness
Reason clowning with passion;
Edgy concoctions
~~~~~~~~~
Being one with you
So many years of pure joy;
Love writes fond passage
~~~~~~~~~
May masquerades well
Contradicts odd intentions;
Old memories curl
~~~~~~~~~
Leon Enriquez
12 May 2015
Singapore
Categories:
contradicts, change,
Form:
Haiku
Some metallic beating of a Drum like heavy rainfall resonated through the night
as the wind swept through the trees and across the somber ponds of The West.
Some nights: these nights—fireflies are the sparkling blue-green dots scattered across an aloof sky.
And how the onlookers stare dumbly at the Horizon and the clouds!
Evanescent, blue…dark shades cover a bush and how the stars are
Climbing (!)
the black cloth of night like spiders,
Oh! the inherent beauty of the world?
And the iridescent flowers are laid dead over the infinite fields.
Some metallic beating of a Drum like ponderous footsteps circling a room fills the gracious day.
The sun with her full smile sends streams of gold and orange to sneak through the
crevices of
the cracked ceiling of the abandoned theater to illuminate the dust.
Random in their intent and brutal in their delivery, the messages of light assuage the gentle Earth
She hands over her key…
Such madness! Madness!
Pools of water scattered across the open fields; coquettish waves undulate under the gale.
Such madness! Madness!
The ethereal beats of the Drum like stolen heartbeats boom! Boom! Boom!
Such madness! Madness!
And maybe the Lady can answer such idling question as to why the cacophony:
“And could you tell us of the day you found this disorder dancing like daft Pagans?”
And she says: “No, for the beauty of absurdity is that the very idea of order contradicts
its existence”
Hypnotic chanting: Chaos makes order chaos makes order chaos makes order…
Some metallic beating of a Drum like a steel box in the bosom of Space
It spins like the burning Earth on a bender
Oh, the cacophony! Oh, the madness!
Such Madness…
Categories:
contradicts, allegory, america, dream, metaphor,
Form:
Free verse
If expensive gifts weren't a must,
the Holiday stress would be less felt;
think for a minute of no presents
being given to folks of all ages...
wouldn't it be taken as an offense?
One thought will come quickly
to everybody's mind whose focus contradicts
what Christmas really means;
only its true meaning will make us fond,
scolding us of all the wasted energy.
Childhood was an exciting experience,
waking up on Christmas day with dreamy eyes,
and find lots of toys next to our bed;
just imagine how brats would have felt,
seeing only one present on the messy carpet!
In this high technology age of sour feeling,
kids expect more sophisticated gifts with a hefty price
and they will immediately toss aside those not to their liking;
even having the guts to complain to their parents,
who thought they were doing something nice!
Let's take the trivial jollification out of the Holidays,
not the spiritual one, which is a pure joy to share...
to confirm the scope of the real message
of what Christmas really means to people everywhere,
whose thoughts are turned to the birth of Jesus!
Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci
Categories:
contradicts, people, sadchristmas, christmas,
Form:
Quintain (English)
Written upon hearing of the passing of a fellow Alabamian.
When Legends Die
Nelle died today
And left behind
A legacy
Which shall endure
As long as words
Can still be read
And characters
Be drawn upon
To wake the souls
And hearts of men
To stand up for
A clear-cut cause
Which contradicts
The status quo
While quietly
Inspiring hope
And though she wrote
A single book
It said more than
Ten thousand could
What do we do
When quiet legends die?
Quietly, we cry
Categories:
contradicts, death, inspiration,
Form:
Free verse