Best Interrogations Poems
A crowded table, all suspended in shock
The sound of the shot dimming to a ‘knock’
Only silence, except for the marching clock
The weapon still smoking; an anonymous glock
WHO KILLED THE EASTER BUNNY?
Loud cries arise from the elongated table,
Jack Frost is shocked, the Tooth Fairy unable
To speak whilst Santa is checking the stable
For clues on the erstwhile maidservant Mable
WHO KILLED THE EASTER BUNNY?
They searched for hours, called in C.S.I,
Panic set in, would the children all cry?
Sandman confirmed the bunny had died
Batman suspected somebody had lied
WHO KILLED THE EASTER BUNNY?
Guests were quizzed, interrogations began
The mystery unfolded when Santa Claus ran,
Grabbing the pies, he tried escaping in a van
But was stopped in his tracks by superman
SANTA KILLED THE EASTER BUNNY!
I am the vampire, is this thing on?
As I said I'm merely a pawn.
NOW you're recording? I am the vam--oh bother it all!
Must we do this in the bathroom stall?
Wolfman took the girl, anyway.
He's always out for the stray.
What was I doing?
Taking a coffin nap, with the possibility of snoring.
That's as violent as I got from head to toe.
Heck, I even heard Mummy might've had a go.
Can I go, now?
Well you got a bright light on me,
Of course there's sweat on my brow!
Wolfman, here. Did you get that?
Wolf--wolf, louder? What do I look like a bat?
I'm not a shrieker.
Not like that vampire. George.
Who's George? That's his name.
George The Vampire.
Boy are your background check's lame...
Answer the question?
What question?
No, I don't know a Linda May.
No, no, I was never at Creekside Way.
What do you mean you found her blood on my ear?
Lab work? Whatever. Talk to my lawyer.
I gotta run. Full moon's near.
It's a figure of speech! No not the running part.
I do LITERALLY have to run.
I meant the moon nearing.
So y'all best be fearing.
No, I didn't just threaten a police officer!
Just let me go before I turn a lot less nicer!
Mfmmrmmmummy...
Mhmm.
Mhmm.
Hm.
Hmfrmmkkrffmmkrffmmkrfmm!
Mm. Sorry. Could I get a glass of water, please?
Scratchy throat. Linda? 'Course I killed her, geez!
*Matt Caliri
*Halloween Fun
*(too much fun for a 20 line limit)
I thought I saw a snowflake in June
Perhaps, it was just silly daydream imaginations
Or were ongoing investigations really do
Upon further horizon inquiries
The sun ended interviews in blushing denial
And when heavenly interrogations finished
The sky was turning guilty blue
I’m absolutely sure
The clouds were somewhere amidst the cover up
Fortunately, a little pigeon squawked
And revealed something of the simple truth
That, there was a brewing
Conspiracy of rumors, flying
So I ruffled stoolie feathers convincingly
To spill the beans, out with his scandalous news
It seems a wintry prima donna
Performer of the coming season
In order to beat the ratings
Broke out early and was somewhere on the loose
Could it be
The very same stitch of ice I'd seen
A snowflake thespian
Acting out in the month of June
Then, I saw a glistening
Of arrogance pass right before my eyes
And tiny banner waved
Followed by the squeaky words “see you very soon”
I rubbed my eyes in disbelief
And then, my tongue was quickly unleashed
As I closed the case of any further flakes
From trying to make their premature Hollywood debuts
" EVERY MAN DIES - NOT EVERY MAN REALLY LIVES. "
~~~~~ *-* ~~~~~
LIFE
Always
Cease with DEATH
Fairytale ? "NO"
Deeper than BREATHING
Or even Survival
Scrutinize being within
Interrogations - scour ripostes
Peregrination - seek...life's defined
Life's worth-living when mulled - LIVE WITH ITS GIST!
Zena hailed from the Zeta Reticula star system and she
was bored with the military’s handling of her. Day after day of
interrogations and discussions for weapons or space travel.
barbed wire
she yawned wondering if it was
to keep her in or them
Psssst ¡
Did you know that the sublime petaled kisses
Of each could spin your heart to an aching mountain
Where worshiped on the pedestal of Earth
Such breath would utter your divinity
Ahhh ! I have collected these tremulous drops of passion
And coiled them in the blood of love
Stained their beauty upon the canvas of flesh
With such colours that could sigh; a wish
Have you dug so deep into your soul
That you found me in your own shadow
And there I walked constantly
The very light, which was cast upon your footsteps
All tremble before the interrogations of this tenderness
No spoken word, no touch in its body can contain
Yet precision unequivocal issues on my fingertip
And each vowel of love to be written in my breath
Come now, succour to this font, your main stream, my fountain
It is I, who by your parody remind you of heaven
So tell my lover to bring the fire
And in flames nestle us in the crucible of desire
Psssst !
Did you hear of such sensuous velvet
Where on the etched sweat woke the beast in you
I gathered you there in pulsing darkness
Where my sanities madness would consume you
I am the penumbras deepest wanton
Upon the bed of crushed roses and thorns
Lay panting, my lips parted, my legs, open
A taught tourniquet of wrapped inside my visions
Such is the hunger consummate
To tear in desperation from the desperate throat
That lays before me with it’s arching back
And laid bare upon the soul I would devour
Each flash awakens in stroboscopic skin
Soft, gentle and seething rakes it fingernails through your mind
To shudder the darkest of tactile
And eat and drink its fill upon submissions brow
Come now, pass beyond the constraints and veils
It is I, who by your parody remind you of heaven
Go tell my lover of consuming flame
And of the shuddering night whispering our name
Nuthin’…..
I do it all the time…
been doin’ it all my life
y’know….nuthin’
Started early – as a kid
during Mom’s interrogations
“Where were you?”
“OUT.”
“Who were you with?”
“NO ONE.”
“Where did you go?”
“NOWHERE.”
“What did you do?”
“NUTHIN’”
As I aged doing NUTHIN’
became an art form.
For with age comes the pretense
of always “doing ‘SUMTHIN’”.
Oftentimes I have been asked
“what are you doing?”
My answer – “NUTHIN’”
Some people have a difficult time
grasping the beauty of “NUTHIN’-NESS”
I read recently that the Dalai Lama
meditates for five hours each morning.
He has achieved the highest level
of doing “NUTHIN’”
When I am “meditating” people ask
“What are you thinking about?”
I tell them – “NUTHIN’”.
They voice their doubts
saying it is impossible
to think about “NUTHIN’”
I tell them that it is possible –
to think about “NUTHIN’”
even while doin’ “SUMTHIN”.
AH – the art of “NUTHIN’-NESS”!!
To rest, unfocused, un-entangled,
in the spidery synaptic web.
So, next time you feel compelled
to strive for the peak of the mountain,
ask the guy sitting at the bottom
quietly contemplating his navel
what he is doing……
drop the backpack of life
and join him
in doing…..“NUTHIN’”
John G. Lawless
9/15/2015
A repetitive stamp on a passport
can expedite our joyous first meeting.
Love spurs a nervous heart
towards a new, unknown life.
Papers collected and shuffled,
we pray for official acceptance.
The gatekeepers eyes penetrate
with suspicious glares of denial.
The bureaucracy divides the masses.
A mother, a brother, a lover
denied access to greater connections.
Mercy is not spoken by the immigration clerk.
Phone calls, email, and goods travel across borders.
People are not granted such freedom.
What is the price to enter the fortress?
Only those with fat bank accounts enter this land.
I would risk prison to touch your warm hands,
clasp your sweet face between my palms,
inhale the tender aroma of your fine silk hair,
graze the soft delicacies of your smooth skin.
Where must we flee to share a moment together?
Free from the interrogations of the government forms.
Is there a place on this globe for lovers?
Where fences give way to fertile orchards.
dancing to the rhythm of my world
it helps me to ignore you and the force of the grip that pulls you
the rhythms heard are the medicines of my motion
it is then when i can truly be free even in conflict
my exclamatories become inaudible whispers
my interrogations become internal answers
there are no tears for they are abolished by laws of simplicity
there is such a thing in life....if you only let it in....
dancing to the rhythm of my world
it prevents me from the mighty clutches the continuously pulls you (back) in
the beats experienced are the elixirs for the sanity of my wearied mind
my heavy bellows become murmurs barely breathing
my inquisitiveness becomes exponential edutainment
there are no fears for they are abolished by laws of simplicity
there is such a thing in life....if you only let it in....
The very moment I experienced her attitude, she lifted me to quite an altitude.
Her perfumed demeanor and composure, was to me an extreme exposure.
It all started with a gorgeous walk..then followed a talk.
Her dimpled smile walked it's way persuasively through me, leaving me helpless obviously in the hands of an empress.
Intoxicated by her interrogations I was, rendering me drunk to be frank.
"Who wouldn't wish for this fish to be an everlasting dish?"
I continue to reminisce, as I miss a Miss in a metaphoric mess.
I addressed the young stranger sitting alone on a park bench:
"Hi, I'm Jason Bills." His handshake was firm, his smile uncertain
but warm.
"Hello, Jason. I--I don't know my name or where I am!"
And so began the odd but fulfilling relationship between the amnesiac
and my entire little sheltered Southern town. Enveloping him in
concern and love, we created "Jerry" and a life for him, making him
brother, son, friend to us all. We took pride in our--uh, invention--gladly
taking care of his needs and wants. He did odd jobs quite skillfully; we,
of course, paid him in cash.
At first, we asked few questions, since he so quickly became nervous.
Then, after a few weeks, the town's conscience reared its accusing head,
demanding that we make an all-out effort to awaken his past. Loved ones
surely were grieving and searching for him.
We weren't very subtle. We probed and prodded: "Any memories,
even vague ones, of family? Past surroundings? Profession? Hobbies?
Religious faith? Problems that might've traumatized . . . ?"
By then, "Jerry" was trembling, almost in tears. "I--I just don't
remember--ANYTHING. I'm sorry!"
We promised, "Okay, Jerry, no more interrogations! Some day soon,
maybe we can contact authorities to help us discover who you are.
Surely you, deep down, want to know."
Jerry's smile was gone. The next day, so was he.
Tonight's episode...
When rumor meets reality,
what truth shall shake loose
as your body surrenders
to temptation rising?
Resolved to perform
interrogations and coercions
that land on agreeable moments.
Snapping like orchestrated jazz
and toe taps.
Your body produces a rhythm
that vibrates a zip code
so imagine how it feels next to you.
You bring out Q and Ray in me.
I'll be as good or as bad
as you need me to be.
Resist if you must, but don't deny
the third yes.
Surpass glass ceiling type heights,
I insist on it.
Make angels pay attention
as I keep you uplifted.
Proclamations of emancipated thrills,
yield to a hero's will, and I'll save you.
I promise I will. If not this time,
then next episode, somehow,
someway, even if it takes bubblegum,
paperclips, and a shoe string
I got you.
Trucker Duckie
His P.I.C handle is:
TRUMP DOGG
Road incorrecto políticamente
rolls his 18-wheeler Hogg
Transporting border illegals is the
Primary cache crop haul
Outfoxing blue Smoky Bears
is his favorite Duckie call
Just like the Big Don,
dodging the Law
is an artful peddle scam
Switch-the-crate bait con
got no pothole flaw
PB skippy traffic jam
Peanut Butter monitor logic
cuts thru the
Police Bandwidth radio static
Bribery spread
at designated Weigh stations
Brown bag of bread
evade freeway interrogations
Trucker Duckie
Always travels by moon shine,
making bourbon barrel loads
of bluegrass buck-y
Like his casino hero call sign
flare flashing: Bankruptcy!
Trump Dogg roadside emergency
turns cartel bad breaks
into right exit strategy good lucky
Trucker Duckie
Speed bumps license plates Kentucky,
prison-issued
from his silent partner, badge Stucky
He’s a Tenner-see Deputy Dawg,
with a wager wag tale gambling vice for the Pence
Vouch barking for the top Dogg,
‘cause he don’t straddle no moral Interstate fence
Trucker Duckie
Steering wheel of fortune,
escape artist extrordinaire
Just like his idol, Moscow-loving millionaire
Trump Dogg
dodge trooper tickets
from Fresno to Flagstaff
Catching the 22-mile marker road draft dare
Trucker Duckie
That 10-4, Roadrunner good buddy
is a Wile E. Coyote illicit cargo stud-dy
An asphalt pirate debonair,
who rolls dicey with Flo-rida billionaire flair
*P.I.C denotes Politically InCorrect.
Incorrecto políticamente is the
Spanish translation of Politically Incorrect
— Romantic Warrior
QUESTIONS….
They thought my
dinnertime inquiries
about their days at public school
were interrogations, investigations
pursuant to suspicions of misbehavior,
missing homework, dissatisfaction or
deeply hidden traumas needing parental
intervention
I must have seemed imposing and
invasive, annoyingly aggressive as
I peppered them with questions, ignored
their heavy sighs of resistance, their impatient
rustle of reluctance and refused to accept
their silence as they hid behind their mother
like Black Bear cubs in a forest making sense of
dangerous smells
Unhappy in my marriage
all I wanted was to know them,
understand their thoughts and dreams,
share in every new adventure, in every exploration,
in every damn discovery and in the daily new
delights that only thoughtful kids delivered,
full of bright and shining promises taking flight
toward the future, making me really glad
to love them, making me glad
to be their Dad!
Of cold hands, of cold feet
Rage lies in thy heart
No one could understand.
This world is an oblivion filled with innocence and dishonesty.
Of feelings and of truth
Lies are the only truth.
Beholding thy warmth of rage,
And rage flows through thy veins, no one could understand.
I am a face made of lies,
A mask made of smiles.
Truths are asleep in my eyes,
And only thy heart knows why.
Questions, interrogations
They are crap of my mind.
Feel them, hate them,
And now you’ll see it as a surprise.
Feelings are of unreal
And truth hides beneath my feet.
Still I won’t show these things.
Because it’s the only way they won’t be in pain.