# September Challenge: "Contradictions"



## Chesters Daughter (Sep 1, 2015)

The prompt for this month's challenge, as chosen by Terry D is: *Contradictions*

You are free to interpret the prompt in any way you wish, though of course, site rules apply. If you are unsure of the challenge rules please read the 'stickies' at the top of the board.

We are continuing to allow optional anonymity this month. You may post your entries yourself, or, if you'd like to remain anonymous, you may PM your entry to me, *Chester's Daughter.* If you are posting anonymously, please indicate in your PM which board, public or workshop, you desire your entry posted on.

Kindly make sure your entry is properly formatted and error free before you submit. You have a *ten minute grace period* to edit your piece, but anything edited after that will likely see your entry excluded from the challenge. 

As usual, if you'd wish to protect your first rights, post your entry in the *workshop thread,* *and post a link to it in this thread. Failure to do so runs the risk of your entry being disqualified.

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Do not post comments in this thread. Any discussion related to the challenge can take place in the Bards' Bistro.

Now that the 'like" function is again blessing us with its presence, we respectfully request that you refrain from using it until this thread has been closed and the poll has been opened.

This challenge will close on the 15th of September at 7pm EST.*


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## Boofy (Sep 2, 2015)

*Thirty Years On*

Conscious of the truth,
whilst lying through our teeth.
Two clashing opinions,
both of them believed.

And it’s called doublethink
when we tell ourselves
that something should be sold
and that same thing should be shelved.

I’m very outspoken
and I can’t stand clichés.
I admire my son’s faith
and hate it when he prays.

Average Joe for parliament!
He’ll speak out for the masses…
He’d have to go to Eton first
and take some middle classes.

It’s a fact, The War on Drugs
is sad but necessary,
and that Alcohol Prohibition
was futile in the twenties.

The key to doublethink, a skill
we daily utilise,
is to train ourselves in Crimestop
and stop using our eyes.

And stop using our minds as well,
For if we manage it,
we can speak sweet ignorance,
an unrestricted bliss.


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## rcallaci (Sep 2, 2015)

*Paradox*

Paradox


fiddle diddle in the middle
time and space is quite a riddle
quasars stars and quantum strings
solar wings and quarky things
endless seas of nothingness
emptiness and somethingness
fiddle diddle in the middle
time and space is quite a riddle


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## Thaumiel (Sep 3, 2015)

*The Ironic Bubonic*

_Poems aren't physical, man,
 they encompass our souls_
 said the wannabe poets; 
 writing tomes 'n' scrolls
 of fluids flowing,
 of words subliming,
 sometimes rhyming.
 Just to win an award
 on a writing board
 or nod and applaud with useful critique
 to help them win the awards they seek.

 Writing huge revelations
 as internet sensations.
 Ignoring new forms
 as a poet conforms
 to their own feelings
 however revealing,
 not the rhythms of others.

_Poems aren't physical, man,
they encompass our souls
_while shiny new baubles
fill all the holes.

 Their work hits the ceiling,
 becomes unappealing 
 to their sisters and brothers
 of other wordsmith mothers,
 while the shiny award
 now falls to another.


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## Nellie (Sep 5, 2015)

*Turbulence*


The devoted aviator
needed no mediator,
"I love you, now please calm down
you're my wife, not a silly clown."
our marriage vows, "for better, for worse"
were becoming the first curse.

He soared in his vain glory 
with a lofty, gallant story,
his limited visibility
dimmed good sensibility,
flying to the other side
was the prominent way to hide.

The nuptials are too turbulent
now upon on our final descent,
his forlorn visual approach
was something he refused to broach,
this stormy marriage hovered
as I was re-discovered.


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## aj47 (Sep 5, 2015)

He Likes Me Not


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## ArrowInTheBowOfTheLord (Sep 6, 2015)

*Paradox of the Undead*

Ghost soldier, pale as death,
You go forth like a grim morning.
You drink from a black-red cup.
You died because you wanted to live forever,
But, wanting to die forever, had to live on.
Ghost soldier, pale as death,
Wonder at this—we are all a little like you.

Necromancer, wise and proud
See how you stand suspended!
One hand, cold and crushing, grasps one side
Another, warm and wonderful, grasps the other,
But by fighting both, you have succumbed, and fallen. 
Necromancer, wise and proud,
Wonder at this—we are all a little like you.

Skeleton, small and shackled,
You walk without legs.
You see without eyes.
You speak without a tongue.
Is it foolishness or faith?
Skeleton, small and shackled,
Wonder at this—we are all a little like you.


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## Gumby (Sep 6, 2015)

*Everything's Gonna Be Alright*


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## Fats Velvet (Sep 7, 2015)

*words splay - we cant.*


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## Crowley K. Jarvis (Sep 7, 2015)

*My Queen 

*Your gaze alone could lead armies
gladly charging to their death
if only for the smile of your eyes

Treason for a lock of hair
murder for a kiss
what they wouldn't do for you
is a very short list, my queen
I hate it. 

I love you 
so does every living soul
I am a man among an army
a blade of grass upon the path
trampled underneath them

I must deny this in my heart
am I a warrior strong
to challenge spartans for your love
I am not worthy
nor desirous


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## Chesters Daughter (Sep 13, 2015)

*Sacred Sister Goes Boom (Mature Content)*

Hubby has her up on a pedestal,
her superb superiority 
evidenced by indented knees
perpetually bent 
in mock supplication.
Yet, he can't see 
she's no better than we,
gaping fractures in her facade 
escape his observation.

She's of no caliber
and sports a bosom as barren
as an empty chamber,
yet possesses a muzzle able 
to fire bullets forged 
by bias and bitter bile.

Six suddenly fatherless children
were a source of amusement
for their parents' past thumbs down
toward the thermostat
had left her stone toes cold.
She cheered and jeered 
as Mama and her spawn
had to pawn 
all to survive
somehow making sweet sister
more alive.

Self-proclaimed reborn servant
sullies meeting house aisles
with her arrogant stomp
as her voice haunts hymns
descrying sin
while her lips and mind
add to the damned's din.

The gospel according to Brute:
"Immigrants should be escorted
to the border to be deported
and their festering fetuses aborted;
all economic pariahs
disallowed to procreate 
no matter religion or race.
(She shows no prejudice as she hates)

Brethren and their wives
doomed to menial work
should be deprived
of life's smallest perks,
their woes are not her own."
No way will she open her pocket,
but remains despicably amicable
to ripping her eye from its socket
instead.

Catty gossip surrounds her
in a noxious cloud,
always whispered, never aloud,
for surely none were as good as she
who worshipped Jesus so fervently.
However stilted her catechism may be,
she brandishes her crucifix justifiably,
yet solely in the eyes of brother and she,
for our Father has no part 
in such travesty.

Retreat from deceit
in not an option,
prevarication is up 
for closed adoption,
can't publicly blemish blessed skin
shrouding evil lurking within,
as the bill of sale for her soul
is signed with the sighs of fools 
she has fooled in her flock.

Her eyes cast down
(as her essence shall be)
in feigned and demure purity,
a veil to keep little brother unaware
for wool-weighted eyes
never dare
to see what's really there:
dug deep within cursed flesh
lies Satan's candy-coated snare.

Alas, folly he does not know
as hubby pushes her pedestal to grow,
and soon he'll have her
touch the sky
his opening eyes 
wondering why
she shies away from God,
Who does not spoil 
nor spare the rod.

His mouth will droop south
hanging in disbelief
as she tumbles down
hard-hitting hallowed ground
only to be sucked below,
for Hell's where sinners go.

One who attempts perjury
before the Lord
will be fairly afforded
infernal room and board.

After years of going whole hog
to be his seeing eye dog,
I won't collect the particles
of my mate's fallout
when the true nature 
of his sibling
is brought to light
and she's hurled into Hades

to learn Firsthand
the meaning of smite.


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## TIG (Sep 15, 2015)

*Honeycomb*

Your beauty was the wrong thing to surrender,
and entranced by its innocence
I set my mind to make it mine
Day by day I plundered its reserves,
drinking deep as if addicted, immersed in you,
and greedy for feast that lay before me

You mistook it for something deeper,
something stronger and more noble
than I was prepared to give.
You spent the days smiling,
floating on some filigree of hope
whilst I practiced my excuses

We dipped honeycomb in cold beer, and you laughed
at the sweetness, saying that I was the best thing
after honeycomb,
but I was thinking about how the sweetness
soon becomes so sickly

Years later, you seemed to have forgotten what I did,
the way I treated you like nothing more than dirt,
and you mentioned that day and the honeycomb,
and I replied
to hell with the honeycomb,
I only want to get into your knickers

And ironically
that was the first time
I didn't lie to you


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## Mutimir (Sep 15, 2015)

*The Warm Winter Sun*

Gleaning through this life,
Without oversight,
I complain about the repetition,
Like a tame creature of habit,
And when my spirit buckles,
I fail to feel safe or secure,
With my rising temper,
I feel a soft touch of the Winter sun,
Sitting, smiling on this trip,
Unbending but not unknowing,
That nothing is certain,
Except the warmth of a Winter sun.


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## PiP (Sep 15, 2015)

They fled in thousands and then millions
displaced nations migrating like winter birds to sunnier shores.
Their winter; extremism, religion, oppression, politics
A contradiction of freedom beyond our comprehension
Our bubble
Our life
Our World.

Their flight to freedom beyond comprehension
Their bubble
Their life
Their world

A fearless army of refugees
marching to the Promised Land of democracy.
Possessions of no value…

TV blares in my bubble.
Images fill the screen,
Mothers clinging to babes
Crying children
Fathers helpless
Children dying…

Channel change.
And yet…
Sad brown eyes imprinted in my memory
Screams will not be silenced.

Eyes closed- flashing images imprinted forever
never to be forgotten.


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## Chesters Daughter (Sep 15, 2015)

*Anonymous submission:

**-co.veil.aunt, une.duel.eight-*


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## Chesters Daughter (Sep 15, 2015)

This challenge is now closed.


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