Best Investigator Poems
Moonless Nights over South Sudan
heartless Moon, don’t tell me
that you weren’t looking
when soulless soldiers dragged me
from my mama’s terrified arms
in our village in Rubkona County
I know you covered your ears
so you wouldn’t hear
my screams piercing the fetid air
as those butchers dropped their pants
repeatedly ripping my body and soul apart
and I saw you cover your eyes
so blinded that you wouldn’t see
the stark horror reflected in my own eyes
the hot tears scorching my cheeks
sobbing for childhood forever lost
oh Mother Moon, Mother Moon
please cover your face
behind billowy black clouds
so that you can’t see
your daughter’s dejected, dead eyes
cowardly Moon, I forgive you
even after you turned your back on me
filling my days only with your dark side
as I sink deeper into a black hole
with no hope to guide me safely home
but helpless Moon, how can I blame you?
for you’re only a mere observer
powerless to defend me
feeling guilty for abandoning
your innocent children
Moon, you’ve witnessed it all before
the torn and bleeding
the tortured and maimed
all tied tightly to weeping trees
reeking of despair and pain
Moon, will you soon forget
my body dripping with bloody shame?
will anyone even remember me?
am I no one…with no name?
will you, Moon, mourn for me?
like you Moon, I am already ancient
over a millennium it seems
yearning for freedom…
waiting for death…
and I’m only twelve years old
Note: This piece is dedicated to all the women and young girls who have been abducted, raped, and/or killed in the secret rape camps in South Sudan over the past two years. According to a human rights investigator, many of them are held indefinitely, tied up with hundreds of other women in these camps and used as sex slaves. Those women who escape from the sex camps are the lucky ones.
09-29-2015
Contest: Must be Read
Sponsor: Silent One
Placement: 3rd
Poet Destroyer vs. James Gareth
Are you done taking your nap?
I read a few of your poems
You got it wrong, they are not crap
First I want to thank you, for the extra lap
Glad, I inspired another slam out of you
I'm not ready to toss in the cap
It takes a bigger plot to get me upset
Your ego fell into my poetic trap
While you came out of the closet,
wearing M.C. Hammer pants
Your headstone now reads "You lost it!"
The vulture's on your body tap, tap, tap!
On your corpse, they pile up their crap
"Sorry!" I zapped you with my taser gun,
zap, zap, zap!
That's what you got for raising your pen.
You hit me with words, like a gypsy queen
Don't want to be enemies, nor friend.
You say I am sweet like a flower.
No magic cure, no poetic power.
I can be as sweet as they come.
If by any chance you are the jealous one.
I'll tell you what,
does it matter if I kiss the ladies butt?
It's not your fault you are not hot.
I'll wait for you to leave the kitchen,
The heat in here is what you don't get.
Hang up your gloves, put away your pen.
Your words of yesterday, slowly rot.
I will take your Hakius.
Release them like creatures.
They sound like insults to Mother Nature.
What if? I turned over a new leaf
Will you stop saying, I'm the crooked police!
I will no longer be an investigator.
I have no need to destroy you.
I have no force like Darth Vader.
I'm kind of getting bored of this
I will read you later alligator.
"I'll be back!"
As The Terminator once said
(FUN) No feelings were hurt in the making.
If you are following
(read poem by JAMES GARETH--To the POET Destroyer)
I almost thought she was the one that made
Neil Diamond sings like a confetti parade
You know that sweet Carolyn thing, why not
She has the warmest soul, this sweet griot
This investigator of mysteries, and writer
Of myth and pale anthropological history
This lady, this encourager, this fresh sister
That brings a solace to each swift anxiety
This humanitarian, this dreamer, this friend
I say nothing when I read her poems again
Lest words reduce her to something defined
For words only say correctly that she is kind
And she drives the land from post to post
Bringing care and playing nurse and host
To every prayer balming pain, to each need
That plays her like winds play a reed
And make her sing her gentleness, sweet
And succulent songs, darling of gentleness
God, how your love in human form bleat
With ravishing light, and milky tenderness.
Retired now, the Government calls me a carer.
Now I ask you what could be fairer?
They pay me a few dollars to look after my better half.
They explain that I save them the cost of employing staff.
Well, I won’t tell them, but they could have saved their money,
He won’t have a cook or a cleaner or nurse, he is such a honey,
My dear hubby refuses to have anyone in the house.
So, they could have kept their money, but I am being quiet as a mouse.
In days gone by I had a job of responsibility before I retired,
I did the job well, worked ethically and was sometimes wired.
Before I became (I guess you could say) a domesticator,
I was actually a licensed private and commercial investigator.
Thousands of covid-19 infected patients die everyday
Dangerous the virus I believe it just on hearing way
Where are the dead bodies? Where are their families?
I do not know actually; who tell me about these please
We know thousands of peoples die everyday overall the world usually
It's easy if imperialist politicians count some from them in this covid-19 rally
I'm not the investigator, not I'm the charity provider
Yet wanna know- comes from where the pandemic server?
Someone replies me it's a curse for sinner from the creator God
Someone advises- it's natural plague, over it do not think a lot
As a theist I believe God creates everything only for beautifying
I disbelieve that God destroys His creations for own angry appeasing
Conscience is the true power of knowledge; if we had conscience
Excess thinking would be fruitful in our inter relationship about worldly sense
It's our world, come, leave the myth of religion, try to save it as God's beauty
Save all with the nature, spread humanity with love killing political hypocrisy
29.03.2020 Chattogram
FUNNY ALPHABETS FOR KIDS
A to Z, each is an alphabet
Twenty six letters in the set
Arits ate Apple, Almond, and Apricot
Brown Bread, Butter, Biscuit Bought.
Crate Contains Corn, Cucumber, Carrot, Coconut
Dates, Dumpling, Drumsticks, Doughnut
Elevator, Escalator Enabled Entry Exit Easy
Fine Fancy Frock Fits Fantastic Fairy.
Ground Growing Green Grass, Goat Grazing
Haunted House Horrible, Hound Howling.
Intelligent Investigator in Isolated Island
Jovial Jockey, Jubilant Joker Jocund
Kangaroo Knows Karate, Kite Kidnaps Kingfisher
Leopard Lifting Left Leg, Loud Laughter
Monkey Managed Molasses. Muffin, Melon
Nursemaid Needed Nice Nankeen not Nylon
Owl, Ostrich, Otter, Octopus, Oyster on Outing
Parrot, Parakeet Picking Pellets, Peacock Pecking
Quick, Quick ! Quiz Questionnaire query
Rushing Rhino, Running Rabbit, Rodent Rat Rivalry
Snake Scares Scorpion, Swan Sips Sour Soup
Turtle Tastes Tortilla, Tiger Trains Turkey – Troop
Unicorn Using Unusual Uniform, Urban Uncle Under Umbrella
Violet Vase, Velvet Veil, Vegetable Van, Vacant Villa
Wasp Waving Wings, While Wild Wolf Wanders
Xerox, Xenon, Xylophone, X-Ray, X’mas
Yellow Yolk, Yummy Yogurt, Yak Yawning
Zero-Zillion; Zoo: Zany Zebra Zinging
, 101 in A Row Contest - 7
by Poet Destroyer A
Our local Church is falling down; it’s in total disrepair,
Father Murphy is beside himself for no one seems to care.
The coffers are near empty so there’s need of volunteers
to refurbish what neglect has caused over many years.
But a call from Father Murphy didn’t quite have the effect
he believed would offer him support, the way he did expect,
for on the day that he proposed to have a working bee,
the promised helpers on his books had whittled down to me.
And I am not a carpenter; a sparky or a plumber.
If he’s looking for a tradesman, he won’t find no one dumber.
I listened to his explanation and his fears that our dear Church
without a huge influx of cash will leave us in the lurch.
Father Murphy stated fetes and card nights hardly even rate,
and lately there has been so little dropped into the plate.
And no amount of threats can intimidate his flock,
and then the room went quiet when we heard a knock.
Opening up the manse front door there standing face to face,
is Father Murphy with a well-dressed man who carries a briefcase.
But who he is, is still unclear … is he a spiritual debater?
One minute and clear as a bell … he’s a tax investigator.
And information that he’s seeking concerns one of the flock,
Ted Hourigan has made a claim that’s not as solid as a rock.
Father admitted he knew Ted, and in his flock he’s one,
but Father Murphy’s apprehensive about what Ted has done ...
... until the investigator nearly blew him off his perch …
“Did Ted Hourigan donate ten thousand dollars to your Church?”
Father Murphy’s prayers are answered; to tell the truth he’d be a dill;
so he looked this bloke fair in the eye - and said “Oh yes, he will.”
"A Whiskers Tale: Watching the Detectives"
Her whiskers tickle
when the lights go out
hormonal huntress
on the prowl
Moonlight chasing
itsy bitsies
up the wall
a silent investigator
tap dancing silently
soft as mink and sibilant
paws poised
across a different kind of
polished slippery dance floor
criminally inclined
researching minds
a baby in her
isolation crib
for sure
soft-shoe shuffling
never bored.
(LadyLabyrith / 2021)
"Dans le fond des forêts votre image me suit."
"Watching the Detectives" / Elvis Costello
https://youtu.be/xO_sDtI2bYk
"Everyday I Write the Book"
https://youtu.be/ekrzLtCKMJg
" I shut my doors on that dark guilt,
I bolt the door, each door I bolt.
Blood quickens, gonging in my ears:
The panther's tread is on the stairs,
Coming up and up the stairs..."
Inspiration: "MoonLight"
"Pursuit"/Sylvia Plath
https://neuroticpoets.com/plath/poem/pursuit/
Currying Favor With the Boss
By Elton Camp
The CEO stood at the shredder, a puzzled look on his face
He called out, “If I can’t make this work it’ll be a disgrace.”
One of the younger secretaries happened to be passing by
And rushed over when she heard the boss’ anguished cry
“An agent from the FBI is coming to see me right away
Miss Prunella, my secretary, has already left for the day.
“If I don’t get this done there will much trouble, my dear.
For to my private office this investigator is drawing near.”
Seeing her chance, she said, “I’ll be glad to do it for you.”
Sue inserted the document and then she pressed Start too
Just as the stack disappeared into the shredder’s inside,
“Only one copy is all I will need,” the big boss then cried
“I have worked day & night on this report for nearly a year
For this to remain the only copy causes me so much fear.”
His mother left him as an infant
Only one place that he could go
Into the arms of proxy keepers
From foster home to foster home
He always got along with others
It always felt like family
But just as soon as he found brothers
A car pulled in and they would leave
He had one memory with his mother
Rocked back and forth in track marked arms
She said your better off without me
I'll pray you never come to harm
Time went by fast, the seasons passed him
Inside the carousel of care
And when he turned eighteen they gave him
A welfare check and one way fare
He found a job as a custodian
Inside a local boxing gym
But soon his cleaning days were over
When their best coach set eyes on him
He had a spark somewhere inside him
That made him stronger then the next
Became an outright scrap machine
And his opponents were perplexed
The world didn't pay him any favours
But toe to toe he won respect
He started cashing in the thousands
For every fight another cheque
He hired a lone investigator
To find his mom some way somewhere
And when he learned where she was living
Got in his car and drove right there
He said it cannot be this dump
And put his car right back in drive
But just before he hit the pedal
He heard a woman scream inside
Ran like a demon, kicked the door down
Met by the voice of some big goon
Who said,
Whats wrong now?
You a customer?
Did one of my whores steal from you?
He gave the gold strewn pimp a warning
And said I'm going to count to ten
If you don't want to go to sleep
Give me my mother Evelyn
When she was safely in his Beamer
He took her to his downtown flat
He said I know your life is awful
My mission is to change all that
And when withdrawals came with cravings
She cried inside one of his hugs
She said, lord help me, I abandoned
This angel sent here from above
That angel left wrapped in a towel
Placed with a note inside a crate
Had cried for her, not for his own self
The one that he had come to save
I'm a PI named Barnaby Jones and I send killers to jail.
But when people receive my bills, they always yell.
Three years ago I exonerated a woman's husband of murder.
She screamed when she got my bill, you should've heard her.
I make plenty of money, I sure don't work for free.
I buy fancy suits with the money that clients pay me.
Letting people get away with murder is something I won't allow.
I drink so much milk that sometimes I suck the udders on cows.
When people see me doing that to their cows, they pull shotguns on me.
I'm a damn good Private Investigator but you will not like my fee.
(This poem is a parody of the TV show.)
The Bony Finger
Investigator Carla received a bony finger
Tossed through her window by a mystery slinger
With it came a note that vexed her curious mind
“This finger’s all I took, the rest I left behind”
The note dared her to visit Windom Plantation
A haunted mansion of maligned reputation
Driving miles uphill to a “castle in the sky”
The old estate’s legacy began to petrify
Wind howled through broken windows as she opened the door
To find long-legged spiders crawling on the floor
Carla used her flashlight to explore each dark room
Shrieking cries emanated from one windowless tomb
Her cell phone in hand, Carla mustered the courage
With pulse pounding, she hoped rumors she’d disparage
Then she saw it, a shadow moving toward the attic
And all at once, Carla’s persona grew frantic
She followed it, climbing the attic stairs in haste
To find horror greater than that for which she’d braced
A destitute man who was missing every finger
Had sent notes like Carla’s to nine other sinners
It took but one soul with compassion and fortitude
To free this man from lonely, haunting solitude
*Posted on January 12, 2019
Submitted for Jenish Somada's "Let the Pens Flow" narrative contest
1888 the year of terror and fear
throats slitted open from ear to ear
JACK THE RIPPER preying on the road
He 's spooky and wears a black coat
In the evenings his skills paint red lace
so good at his job,he kills as he plays
In Croaky Moors hiding his shadows
roaming in alleys and meadows
Five victims ,Five whores slasshed to death
Breasts thorn apart,their hearts on the bed
a stalker,a cannibal in East End of London
drinking in bars,His hiding a dungeon
The prostitutes tongues pulled out from their roots
sending the killer in the best of his moods
Years passed come and gone,each dusk cover dawn
five ghosts are heard aching in one brutal moan
Jack's name still an echo in the narrow back streets
Soul's blood is still shedding,for justice it pleads
Scothland yard officers were being fooled
from "Hell" and "Dear Boss"letters,Jack ruled
Ruben and i tried to capture this cold blooded guy,
but we'll pass it on to J.R, Investigator with Style
Go for it John...
-------------------------CHARMA
I would have to say the greatest performance of my life is survival
And turning bad things into something positive to help others
I survived severe trauma as a child, I was silenced and deeply hurt
I survived Cancer later, accidents, Lyme disease, near death experiences
I survived by working in human services to help others, giving to friends
And I assisted a leader volunteering at a support group in the area
I was an investigator and I pursued justice for many years
Most of all, I create as best I can to spread what I have in my soul
I write – I paint – I play piano
I hope that my words of truth will reach others however possible
I hope that my music will bring peace and relaxation
I hope that my paintings will bring happiness and inspiration
I turned the bad into good to survive because this can be achieved
I am also a mother to my loving, special pets who mean so much to me
We can always give and share and love and inspire others
Regardless of what we have been through, this is what I have learned
Heidi Sands
5/21/22
A 1st placement in The Greatest Performance of My Life Poetry Contest
Sponsor: JCB Brul
Our little white dog
She is our sassy diva
She is our furry investigator
She is our tireless track star
She is our staunch security guard
She is our warrior, our runner, our baby girl
She is a biter, a bear hugger, a wild child
She is lazy and energetic, curious and indifferent
She is crazy and full of fun, the coolest dog I know
She is everything that makes Kasumi, Kasumi
Our little white dog