Best Interrogated Poems
Sophie Scholl was raised a Christian in a Lutheran family
Born in the town of Forchtenberg in south west Germany
For standing defiant against evil with her young life she'd pay
In a country that was in deep turmoil and had lost its way.
She was a young teenager in nineteen thirty three
When a new leader offering hope, emerged in Germany
Adolf Hitler was an Austrian, who came to power
And for many it was the start of their darkest hour.
To unite the German people the Nazis held rallies
In some of the larger towns and all the big cities
But something dark and sinister was taking place
The evil Nazis were plotting to create a master race.
All the youth were encouraged to join an organisation
Hitler youth they were known all over the nation
Sophie and her brother together, with some of their friends
Turned their backs on the movement and vowed to make amends.
Word was getting around about death camps and persecution
Together they decided to form, a small non violent organisation
Known as the 'White Rose' who urged the people to renounce Hitler
They handed out leaflets telling the truth, about the Nazis slaughter.
One day at Munich University where Sophie studied as a student
She was seen distributing leaflets on what Nazi ideology meant
A janitor intervened and confronted her, and wouldn't let her go
She was arrested and then handed over to the notorious Gestapo.
They interrogated her to find out, who her accomplices were
But she wouldn't give them their names, as they tortured her
They charged her with high treason and sentenced her to death
To die by the guillotine and the date of execution was set.
They executed twenty one year old Sophie for making a stand
And they had accused her of being a traitor, to the fatherland
They eventually captured the others, five of them in all
And they too walked to their deaths standing proud and tall.
It’s people like Sophie who want to make the world a better place
And not supporting some twisted ideology like a master race
The Nazis were eventually defeated and their leaders tried
But not before Sophie and millions of other innocents had died.
Written 15th May 2021.
The Beheading of John the Baptist
Inside a dungeon, a man is shackled;
Where instruments are employed to inflict
Pain on him while being interrogated;
To confess to crimes, he did not commit.
Above, a damsel dances for Herod,
A gift of pleasure set by her mother.
In a stupor, he rewards Salome
With John the Baptist’s head on a charger.
Herodias’s revenge from a tyrant’s boast
Of lust for a child lives in infamy;
As John’s disciples mourn his headless corpse.
The living will demand answers from Christ.
And forgiveness for their faults without works,
And want acceptance into paradise.
***
References:
Matthew 14:1-12
Mark 6:14-29
Luke 9:7-9
Hello,
my name is Mr. Ratman
I've been injected twice
with an experimental vaccine
get nasal swabbed three times a week
i wear a rag on my face consistently
i get temperature screened
get symptom interrogated daily
i keep 6 feet away from society
i wash my hands until they're
the color of ripened cherries
Now they're talking booster shots
nothing will ever be good enough...
after all viruses by nature never
never walk away from a rave.
Is it really all about global health and well being
or is it about population control and profit
the N.I.H handed the Wuhan lab millions of greenbacks
father Gates was heavy into eugenics-planned parenthood
A rotten apple never falls far from the tree...of death
I just thank our silent God that its not a rectal swab.
Having decided on eggs and toast for breakfast, I sat, chewing vigorously, mindlessly trying to come up with a decent topic for some poetry. Nothing came to me, so, using the excuse that a poem can be written about anything at all, I decided on Eggs and Such. I fear the breakfast was better than my poetry. daver
12 big eggs
11 white one brown
a dirty dozen
3 large eggs
two whole one cracked
claw-like protrusion
butch egg
interrogated
cracked spilled his guts
hen house clamor
shotgun blast
wiley’s last heist
two over-easy
with bacon toast
mamma for dinner
easter chicken
delivers jelly beans
rabbit raisins
“Objects of Affection”
Objects of affection
drop like white marbles
from the sky
we love to look
to our heaven
for all kinds
of angels
all’s fair in
love and war
when faith
and belief
in a stronger
unified existence
that type of love, denied
trust
walks out the door
along a fine sharp line
sucked into that endless place
where the black ball
is dropped,
compartmentalised
life interrupted
for the unheard
taken down
by the unnecessary
silent swift intervention,
interrogated, eviscerated,
true autopsy, denied
what is love
to the alienated
gone AWOL alien
true fabric
orchestrated
by the external
as something other,
superficial,
the internal, inconvenient,
briefly recognised
worthless feelings
buried deep, the complex
compartmentalised
non-copacetic;
by the artificial copacetic
written off blithely,
non-evolutionary
the revolution de-loused,
time spent of no importance,
touch and emotions
clinically extinct
love
unknown
life
unrecognised
of unknown origin
unidentified
(LadyLabyrinth / 2023)
I used to live in France, near the Champagne region.
My favorite Notre Dame cathedral is not the one in Paris;
Rather it is Notre Dame de Rheims.
After many battles, Jeanne D'Arc helped the Dauphin Charles
Be crowned the king of France there.
There are many statues in France of Jeanne D'Arc.
Most of them show her riding a horse with sword held high.
I've see that image in many Places in the north.
My favorite statue of her is in Notre Dame de Rheims.
She looks to be standing a vigil in her armor
With her battle flag posted behind her.
I've also been to Place Jeanne D'Arc in the city of Rouen,
Where the British tormented, interrogated, and immolated her.
It didn't look like a sad place, but I felt sad there for her.
I don't know if she really heard angelic voices,
But her story always inspired me--
Probably the only non-Biblical saint that ever did.
Marveling
interrogated exclamation
of this sweet and bitter immense tickling loneliness
hard labor
plastified by diverse molds
deep filigree taste
in exhaustible muscle
mind that climbs and rolls
with a battery of titanium
In this loneliness of automation
free greetings of the denture
kind and inocuous farewells
that evaporate and disappear...
travelers of sealed spirals
where beginning and end
ciclically superimpose
recite the myth by memory
and unable to define their flame
exist when they think
dye when they sleep
vibrate when they love giving
plunge serene into the full void.
The Bad Priest
In Lyons (I think it was Easter, 1438),
I was a priest and somehow can recall
the dim church, the heavy clouds of frankincense
and the knights and the peasants lined up for communion.
I chanted the magic words
and did the magic gestures but
instead of the wine becoming the blood
of our Blessed Lord,
it changed into piss.
I was not ready for this.
Inside the chalice,
the reflection
of my own most hideous face -
I poured my face onto the floor and
a thousand rats writhing in a sea of worms
destroyed my last pretense of piety.
The congregation – the whores no less than
the assassins – knew that I was one of them
and could no longer hide the fact.
The stained glass windows crackled and shattered,
the church crumpled into rubble;
and we all shrieked
as the earth quaked
and God was deaf:
to the sobs of the amputees.
For the unforgivable crime of sacrilege
the ecclesiastical tribunal interrogated me
under the direction of the Bishop.
Those Dominican friars, those Domine Canes
(bloodhounds of the Lord), figured I'd sold
my soul to the adversary and when they
put me on the rack and hung me up backwards
and hammered each ankle and elbow in turn,
I saw that they must be right,
for they showed such tender concern
for the state of my soul.
I confessed but still had to be tortured again,
in order to confirm the first one.
The Dominicans wanted to burn my genitals
to get to the names of family members
who might be party to this conspiracy,
but in his mercy the Bishop forbade them.
I had to prepare myself for being burned at the stake:
There would be no merciful strangling instead.
I could pray for the grace of God,
but I knew I wouldn’t get it.
I could not even look forward to oblivion
as I regarded that yellow shirt
printed with the Devil's signs
that I'd have to wear on that
morning of shame and buckets of ****.
My friends will ask for my forgiveness
as they set the straw afire.
Will I be a Christian then?
Humpty Dumpty's job was an important one he knew
a secret service agent looking for clues
sitting on the brick wall as a lookout man
as the kings parade caused horse traffic jams
Looking around for any suspicious suspects
he looked up and down, right and to the left
not seeing anyone looking to kill the king
he let his guard down not noticing anything
Before he knew it he felt a mighty shove
falling down he cracked open showing gooey substance
with the kings parade coming to a quick halt
running over to poor Humpty wondering who was at fault
Most of the kings men picked up his pieces of shell
trying to piece him back together which was sheer hell
suddenly the towns baker showed up with a huge shovel
saying I'll clean this up without any trouble
So they let the baker have poor Humpty's remains
who used his yolk and egg whites but not his brain
whipping up lofty delicious cakes, pies and souffles
Humpty's unfortunate death sure made his day
Which led the kings men to be highly suspicious
as the baker always thought of Humpty as mighty delicious
anytime he had seen Humpty Dumpty passing on by
you could hear the baker whisper I need him for my cakes and pies
So they interrogated the baker who was a nervous wreck
and after 48 hours he broke down and confessed
saying he was real low on eggs that fateful day
and climbed up behind and shoved Humpty without delay
Finally the case was solved and the baker sent to jail
while poor Humpty's remains were in cakes that were for sale
Humpty's best friend read his eulogy not believing he was dead
sobbing he exclaimed, man he was an awfully good egg!!
6-24-18
Blue eyed girl of Pacific Ocean.
You are blue eyed girl of Pacific Ocean.
Like me through face book of heaven.
Being interrogated I have seen your naked beauty of Pacific Ocean.
Where enjoying only blue water and blue eyed girl of heaven.
See Beauty of your undressed hidden spherical dia.
Where enjoying intensity of beauty reaches to bottom of pacific.
Beauty of brevity is so specific.
Tolerance not to be measured
Not to be magnified.
Enjoyed only blue marbled crystal floats in Pacific Ocean.
Where blue water flows beneath my waist to a motion.
Saroj khan[sakha
In the whirlwind of your presence,
I was spun through the mangle of your gaze,
Interrogated by your grilling smiles
Each question a probing dagger in my mind.
And when you turned to walk away,
My heart hung heavy with the weight of a green willow,
Its branches reaching out in sorrow
For the love that nearly took root within me.
I poured my soul into the cup of your being,
Almost loved you beyond the bounds of reason,
But you slipped through my fingers like sand,
Leaving me to drown in a vale of tears.
I struggle now against the tide of my thoughts,
Each wave crashing down with the memory of your touch,
But why did you come at all,
If only to fade into the mist of my dreams?
I reached for you with all my might,
Eyes betraying the lies of your absence,
For you were never truly there,
A figment of a heart's desperate imagination.
You never existed, yet your absence reverberates
Through the hollow chambers of my soul,
And I am left to wander in the shadows
Of a love that was never truly mine.
Form:
Plane has landed
Interrogated by customs for hours
Back on the plane again
*My first bash at this
I doubt that it exists my epididymis.
It quite mystifies me my epididymis.
Onan had one,too,I guess an epididymis.
But what he did with his epididymis
Was not considered rightidymis.
Now Onan and I have a pact:
Don't ask and don't tell
About the fact
And when interrogated as to its whereabouts
Deny everything.
She's a young mother of two
dated knuckle heads, immature.
Two kids in tow from deadbeat dads
saggers using kids as pawns for sex.
Be a man, be a man, be a man,
Drop that attitude not your pants.
Raise your daughters and your sons
not your brows at honey buns.
Moonlight dinner at the lake
they courted wee hours in the night.
the crescent moon their candle light
maybe she found a suitable mate.
He's a man, he's a man, he's a man
no attitude or sagging pant.
raised his daughter and his sons
not his brows at honey buns.
Driving a white Mercedes Benz
he couldn't stop his obvious stare
her dark shining beauty, checking out his ride.
She said "pull over to the side"
can I have your number, if you dare?
Dinner and a movie, a third date
a short, red, sexy dress, she waited
high heel boots, leopard print
A cute couple, away they went.
Before the date could even begin
interrogated by her parents.
well mannered, mature, well dress
he's got it all together.
no non sense,10 years her senior.
He's a man, he's a man, he's a man
no attitude or sagging pant.
raised his daughters and his sons
not his brows at honey buns.
To talk about non proliferation is latest fashion
In which indulges each nation
Treaties talk tall on this issue
But the offenders they cannot sue
Commissioners of this forum before BBC
With a bland wooden face speak like sissy
They are offered Nobel peace prize for
non-performance
Though they have not interrogated offenders even once
The drama of hypocrisy goes on and on
And nobody the demise of peace moans
The world is literally on the threshold of nuclear
holocaust
And yet UNO about non-proliferation boast
Plutonium and uranium can fall in the hands of
terrorists
Who are on USA'S most wanted lists
The saddest thing about NP is double standard
Because nobody keeps here his word
The nations who most vehemently NP dictates
Are themselves nuclear states!
Can’t we put nuclear energy to peaceful purpose
Instead of making it a universal curse
PANCHOLI NANDLAL KANJIBHAI