Poetry Contest 2

I am making another poetry contest, this time against Lexicaholic. Entry time is two days and the maximum number of characters is 2,000. I will let my opponent start.
Good luck.

Invariably the senses seek their succor,
Willing words to be written in rhythmic staccato.
Impregnability makes of all senses a stupor,
Leading us both off into a wild imbroglio.

Leery I am of engaging against a wit,
Which would work a response against me.
Intrigued anyway I to my page words commit,
Necessitating an echo unto my cacophony.

The contender sees fit
To attack with bull****
Leaving me empty and dry

But do not be fooled
With rude attitude
He will be the one to cry

I will smite him with fear
Send him into despair
Grabbing the prize in the end

And with this I go
And trust his lingo
That maybe he will turn red

Now it's a fight. Bring it on.

A Debater's Complaint
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Why draw knives where laurels would serve?
What reason for such wrath?
My opening must have struck a nerve,
To lead us down this path.

'Twas not my intention to offend,
With words implied or said.
To boast is but one poet's end,
For what cause should I be red?

Now let us renew our debate,
On terms far friendlier than before.
If it your wrath will mitigate,
I pledge to offend no more.

Sharpened words be laid to rest,
Like blades bent in a foreign war.
Let each of us rise to meet our test,
Lest we each the other come to abhor.

Silly Little Rat-Monkeys
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Silly little rat-monkeys never get things done.
They dream of amazing things,
But get lost in all their fun.

Poor little rat-monkeys nest by the bay.
Looking to adorn some wings,
And fly so far away.

Sad little rat-monkeys never had a chance,
The sun went red,
Now all of them are dead.
Too lost were they in their romance.

It
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You only say it,
Never mean it,
Meant it,
Never.

You only play it,
Never be it,
Been it,
Ever.

You only wanted it,
Couldn't live it,
So I killed it,
Better?

The (Non-Existent) Perfect Lover
-------------------------------------

When you are in love
Remember to consider
The facts about her:

Is she a smart one?
Is she even beautiful?
Are the two balanced?

If when asked about
Illegal aliens and
This is her response:

"They need to come back"
And show us all their death rays."
She's not smart enough

If her make-up is
From organic vegetables,
There's no hormones,

Better than Foreplay,
And has no carcinogens,
Not pretty enough

But if your lover
Is perfect in every way
Well then you are gay

When I was young I thought I was always wrong,
Then when I was old that I was always right.
But what I should have been told all along,
Was that I ought not to assume clarity of sight.

The butcher knows slaughter, the baker knows breads,
The children know laughter, no worry in their heads,
The lawyer knows technicalities, the doctor knows techniques,
And everyone's realities are shaped by what knowledge one seeks.

So when arguing listen and after listening speak.
There's wisdom to be found in the sharing.
And if you find more than you ever planned to seek,
Then less foolish we'll be after the baring.

The Wrath of Con
----------------------------
As I toil through this web's site,
I struggle against threads like a fly,
That in Anansi's trap does espy,
The spinsterish predator's dread bite.

But surely now one thread is unspun,
For this fly has found his release.
Soft words carry him on the breeze.
No arachnid's maw bled this one.

Despite the will of eight shaking fists,
He who is me may now fly free,
And be rewarded for acting contrarily,
Through a series of fate making lists.

The motions are ended and the moment upturned.
With a red languor the spider wrought its defeat.
In surprise the arthropod finds itself spurned.
Unexpected cleverness has spoiled its treat.
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I thank my opponent for a fun and novel debate!
Now please vote Con, I think that'd be great!