Contradiction in A-F Minor




Featured art by Janine Machiedo. Click title image to visit her studio.



Listen to Suggested Audio


Depeche Mode “Policy of Truth”






Factually speaking, I’m fiction
In actual fact, I’m one huge contradiction


I’m a gentleman, manners impeccable
Born and raised to be ever respectful
Treat others how I would expect to be treated
Celebrate their victories even when feeling defeated
Give a multitude more than I take
Feel free to mark my words as not a single one is fake
Should I choose to break formation, then I’m always forward facing
Simply letting off some steam, do so prior to departure from the station
No more placid than I
Little ruffles this fine spread of feathers
No more sincere a friend ’til the end of the never
Pass up on judgement, turn down the decree
Give the benefit of doubt unless hounded from me
A man of my word with courageous conviction
Contagiously chipper in delivery of diction
Should you question my intention, then I’ll answer on the spot
Nothing pre-rehearsed as time to spurn is one thing I ain’t got
Not to say I do not practise patience ever saintly or appreciate importance of restraint
But tragic fate is only ever but a final breath away
And should I die, do so before such time as I awaken
Then my soul will carry on, make no mistake
Ever willing spokesperson for the very blindest faith
Nothing whatsoever token, every leap with timeless grace
Smiling at strangers, my profile is never once endangered
To see the truth declared, just look me square in the face


Factually speaking, I’m fiction
In actual fact, I’m one huge contradiction


I’m a picture of human decay
I’m a wrong ‘un with no right of way
I’m a sick little puppy for sure
I’m that ominous door in the floor
I’m the window that taps on your pane
I’m the acidic sting in the rain
I’m the parasite burrowing deep in your brain
I’m the number one son of numb pain, every membrane insane
I’m the sum of your worst fears combined
Never one to pass up on a stint of killing time
Got penchant for slaughtering lambs
Breaking their necks with my bare bloody hands
Born to be wild and no way nature’s child
All about the hunt and ever set to defile
I’m the sick cunt bleeding on your sneakers son
Under starters orders… run fat boy, run
I’m the hired gun for starters
Every hurdle you clip
As you dip for the line
I’m the live wire you trip that goes boom
Try and give me the slip and you’ll soon come unstuck
Will sink your battleship without the giving of one fuck
It’s all duck soup to me, you see
The darkest of hearts in the art of the bleed
Proceed to concede and I may just go easy
But don’t you dare double deceive me
So many ways to split and skin a pheasant
Not one in particular particularly pleasant
I’m the pain running parallel to every swell of pleasure
I’m the noose at very end of final tether


Factually speaking, I’m fiction
In actual fact, I’m one huge contradiction


The best of me lies in the centre
Should you make it this far, then may wish to pitch tent here
I’m passionate you see, no more passionate than me
Said passion is enraptured every last time I am seen
No such great mystery exists within me
Treat me as you would expect to be treated and the innermost of passion be entreated
Lift me up and I shall elevate you even higher
Look into my eyes, recline in ever thriving fire
Put me to the test and I shall pass each one respectfully
Get the best from me and I shall write off all the rest of me
Dress me for success and nothing less than magic you shall see
Life need not be tragic and death not quite so suggestive see
I’m a child in thinking man’s body, though oddly this side of me plays coy inside of me
Always within, alas so seldom seen
This is the key to the fairytale magic in me
The fiercest protector, the Hannibal Lecter, the crashing high tide and the dashing white knight
The dignified creature my grandmother crowned as a king among men
Fighting tooth and nail for the unholiest of grails to trend against the bitter end
I am mortally wounded, yet still I persist
And if there ever was a story, then that tells it
The best of me lies at dead centre
Therein lies the one true happy ending never-ending through the never


Fictionally speaking, I’m factual
In actual fact, I’m one huge contradiction
A clam shell unfurling to sell pearls of wisdom, no charge
Rebellious heart with a story to tell any lent ear that cares enough to listen
See me ever clearly, share forevermore in this crystalline vision
No need for taking notes, making provisions
For the greatest contradiction is there ain’t no contradiction
Make of that precisely what you will of own free will
I stand with stature great in very blindest faith you will






Richard Charles Stevens


Keeper of The Crimson Quill




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