Best Sleuths Poems
Damn this isle of mine...
solitary awkwardness surrounds
stifles, and strangles, and estranges
deranges, debases, encases, entraps
...singing this song lonely crazy
Damn this isle of mine...
coast eroding on every side
an intense sunshine serves to blind...
surrounded by sea, yet cruelly dry
squinting eyes and palate dies
Damn this isle of mine...
Mind gone aimless wander
condemned goner
seeing life that flashed reckless past
and gone...tone deaf swan song
beats on with insensitive rhythm
Damn this isle of mine...
Ever lacking human amenities
conflicting identities murky and sly
my own private Hyde sleuths like private eyes
questioning my reason with childish perspective
this madman my sole companion
this isle will kill me before I die
“You have to keep breaking your heart until it opens.”
Rumi
It was the summer of 1967 and the sun was almost bran new
me and Tony L. skipped to the corner to raid the candy store
sometimes we bought a paper bag full of small penny candies
other times it was a fancy box, full of Cracker Jack popcorn ...
We grew up like sleuths on 2nd Avenue by the rubble of Miron
sludging through dried clay and playing with colorful marbles
As we played with washed up marbles, we grew up in time
laughtering our days until the sober rays of adulthood arrived
No one will ever forget that place on St. Michel dear bro,
it was where the pine tree grew, when life was spanking new
all the prizes that we won, are still laying on the concrete floor
Written by : Mystic Rose
THE UNKNOWN GOD
Heavy the burden, but light is [the way].
That’s when you put the Lord [in its place].
The sun may not be shining, but your [spirit shows].
That’s your [inner being aglow].
Never a path undefined.
This is because his voice speaks divine [via the mind].
The teaching he provides is transcribed.
To share, sermonize.
What a wonderful life and beautiful choice to do the work of the Lord.
No man or woman can deny that you are the [Keeper of the Lord’s Shrine].
That is [a Holy place Divine].
The abstracted flush went astray.
Standing were the shadows of yesterday.
Awry the eyes appear in the dark.
Two clouds of gray were shown.
Midst sleuths prayer was heard.
The rays of light beamed from high above.
Sending tension to the silhouettes that stood where the shadows left.
The vibes were felt as fear took shape.
This is the Holy place of the Lord.
The Shrine has formed [as a precarious world].
This is where [iniquity meets the unknown God].
Transgression is natural within the seasons.
Through faith and belief, omnipotence is perceived.
The laws of humankind were transliterated and conceptualized
Until the [aspects of life] formalized.
[Politics, religion, family, work, and leisure time] are originates.
Faith is demarcated.
They said the Chariot of Fire is operated by the Lord’s Army.
Distinct is the chimes hearkened.
Pay attention to the alarm.
Stand your post and remain strong.
The universe has contravene and people will be destroyed.
The acumen is the perspicuity.
The knowledge is gen.
The voice is enunciation ascertain.
______________________________
Written November 05, 2015!
Politician; “IT’S NOT MY FAULT,”
as someone digs another burial vault.
If people think the job is cushy,
they can kiss my oval sitting tushy.
Politician; “I’M NOT TO BLAME,”
we had to play this stupid war game.
Always send our best, look how well they fought,
just measure the freedom their lives have bought.
Politician; “YOU HAVE NO PROOF,”
that WMD might have been a spoof.
We sent over teams of super sleuths,
bent their reports into convenient truths.
Politician; “I WILL SHOW NO SHAME,”
for losing this military shell game.
It’s my family legacy I did inherit,
now generations will have to share it.
*For the four sentences contest which seemed to reverberate past experiences. In no way is
this meant to cast any doubt on our brave military men and women who bear the first brunt.
"PreOccupation"
spiced
cut up poetry
divides
numbers
intentional
drivel moved
to the side
on a blank page
into neat lines
sucked up
a much loved
addiction
novel and short
Pre Occupation
of all the glossy
shrouded shrouds
minds spiced
scab picking, their
word salads, tossed
the windbags
blowing braggarts
know-it-alls
blow it all
cutting the lines
like neat poetry, up
gladiator
brides
are us
sucking it
all up
like sweet custard
vampire voices
puck shot
through goal posts
cleansed?
they think they're missed;
I think not
baptised virtuous
scrabbled
war torn pilgrims
the lecherous
with nothing
better to do
watch all
bride defectors
sign language
look into the mirror
your reflections all
on repeat, the watchers
all wisened
move through,
or move
through not
they still avidly watch
the time wasting
away
Pre Occupation
sides and numbers
all blood suckers lost
buried, wearing
their shrouds
poetry in lines
black and white
cut up neatly
divided
on a blank page
the sucked up
read all the
time wasted
lost
(LadyLabyrinth / 2023)
Halloween approaches Vampires,
suck blood and be
merry
“The meeting commences in the arena;
Gladiators and space defectors
In walk the druids and the shock troops
In walk the druids and the shock troops
Ringside seats, bird's eye views
Video cameras only tell the truth
Milliards of youths complacent in the eyes
Of their contemporary sleuths
Witch-wizards sat on cosmic thrones
The new age crowned all skin and bones
The sacred priestess of Merlin The Mage
Opens the book, she turns the page ...”
...
"Conspiracy of silence
An orgy of peace
They're all here from every sphere
From every planet to shake their spears
Divide the lands of the halls of Pan
Painted warlords in their hordes
Asa kings and obi queens
Step from my skull and live my dreams
(excerpt/”Druids”, Toyah Wilcox, 1982)
Lithesome lines of rapturous rhymes and torrid truths,
Written with piteous pleas and tantalized tease;
Left to others' wits to be interpretive sleuths
Of our loves, lusts, confessional musts and envies.
Rhythm ripping or cadence caressing penned words,
Weeping a caustic choice or singing a heart's rejoice;
Gathered in silken sentiments or stampeding herds
Inkwell of traipsing thoughts etched in poetic voice.
Susan Ashley
October 16, 2017
*'The Love Letter' - Painting by Samuel Luke Fildes*
“Flipping the Bluebirds”
There’s no point playing
Norwegian Wood
when your keyboard’s
like a gun calling
murdering
all your darlings
for other meaningful
glories
lavender doesn’t sit well
when violet’s riddled story
winds up the beat
dodging silver bullets
like sunshine dancing
across the governance board
and the soft-shoe watch
showered with confetti
koans like playing knuckles
for marbled sleuths,
and keystone cops
correct and in their
proper place
kicking back
Love, flips bluebirds easily
like sunshine dancing
all Bonnie and Clyde
across the blackbird’s wing
(LadyLabyrinth / 2022)
“Feel It Still”/ Pomplamoose
https://youtu.be/L39swdLBxvw
"Extreme Ways"/Pomplamoose
https://youtu.be/Nn6n1rLpvgo
Remington
https://www.wideners.com/blog/the-guns-of-bonnie-and-clyde/
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/E._Remington_and_Sons
Remington guns, Remington typewriters
Kill your darlings
“Kill your darlings” is a common piece of advice given by experienced writers. You kill your darlings when you decide to get rid of an unnecessary storyline, character, or sentences in a piece of creative writing—elements you may have worked hard to create but that must be removed for the sake of your overall story."
Television sleuths
Peter Falk as Columbo
is one of the best
In this age, rage has become the norm,
an angry world looks at people’s faces
with suspicion in the streets,
and elders are beaten black and sore,
petty thieves crashing the store windows,
while families lock their doors at home,
as night sleuths peep from the blinds
checking to see how much loot they can raid.
Neighbors no longer star gaze on the porch
who knows where a gunfire can blow
when children become trigger happy
making school mates a shooting gallery;
in this age when rage is the new norm.
Hope in Hopeless
Hope for the hopeless, you make me rise above the crowd
Watching the dawn for the forgotten and dusk for the greedy
My soul sinking in error, still you endorse me in your unfailing love
Building broken bridges, still stretch your soul into darkness for me
Deeper and deeper you go into my pride, disgrace, greedy and failure
Why and how could, would you love me without reciprocity
Yes you are my Hope in Hopelessness; yes you are the path to the pathless
Inhaling and exhaling bitterness, betrayal busted the fragile me
Led me into the solitary caves, covering my covetousness
Walking in shadows, hiding from reality because the truth knows me
Shallow perceptive perpetuated my oblivious to the truth of tomorrow
So I have put my faith in fear and failure, forsaken the path of life/light
As the fish, I have forgotten to live in water- beyond my life is Grace
Yes you are my Hope in Hopelessness; yes you are the path to the pathless
I see the vivid of his illumination yet I still walk is the sleuths of my being
So I tell my soul come back into the surreptitious of the most high
So should I die to myself and be raised in Faith, Hope and Love
Yes in this chamber of hope the dead bodies receive souls back
My experience is bad yet my expectation is rejuvenated, fabulous
Hold on; hold up, your struggles will be your strength for tomorrow
Yes you are my Hope in Hopelessness; yes you are the path to the pathless
Tony The Poet
(Anthony Ngabwe)
THE AMERICAN DILEMMA
by
JOHN M. ARRIBAS
There was a time when the town crier spread the news
Terse, straight, unfiltered, unbiased with no personal views
Alas, those times have disappeared into days of yore
We now have more news thrown at us than ever before
From sources sworn to be reliable, accurate and true
Usually from an illiterate maybe living next door to you
News now is reported in order to solidify a position
Repeated over and over to reduce valid opposition
These fools are not limited only to those in the streets
It’s for anyone and everyone that regurgitates tweets
It’s one moron to another stating his unproven facts
Certifying his allegations in spite of the proof he lacks
Most have many opinions stating incontrovertible truths
Gleaned from incompetent nobodies acting as sleuths
Honesty has vanished, repeated dribble is now the norm
Pick out a topic support it, rally, protest: create a storm
Those that oppose the demands are forced into submission
They will be named racists, bigots, etc: and did I mention?
They will be barred from expressing any opposing vision
They will be subject to physical and mental attrition
They will be silenced in fear of violence and intimidation
With no opposition the fools are more demanding n brazen
Masked attackers will roam streets seeking any opponent
Their continued demands increasing moment by moment
Opposition is muted, only few dare to parry their claims
Silent majority, silent, few dare challenge their aims
The silent majority complains in utter frustration
While sitting in the front row to the death of a nation
Response To Poet Your Cover Is Blown
I toast the beavers that broke down the dam
And exposed the colluders and their scam
From wise sleuths, truth rises
Of bad apples stealing prizes
To orchard ones, your core is nothing but sham
connie pachecho
10/8/17
Drawing a blank, now how's that possible
Unless you use invisible ink
Then what's the purpose if no one can see it
Kinda senseless don't ya think
However it seems I can kinda remember
The comics offered this kit
You wrote with a pen containing invisible ink
After rubbing it appeared bit by bit
Thought the whole thing was simply magic
Master spies is what we became
Belonging to the army's intelligence corp
Sending notes in an espionage game
Oh those were fun days of make believe
Pretending to be super sleuths
Slinking around passing invisible messages
Those super fun days of my youth
© Jack Ellison 2014
I've passed the long hot summer
by robbing local banks
and though I'm a newcomer,
I've risen through the ranks
But if I must be candid,
the money that I stole,
the acting like a bandit,
was just to reach a goal
Although you now police me
and hold me in your jail,
you will no doubt release me,
once I have told my tale,
and demonstrated sorrow,
and led you to my stash,
gave banks that 'let' me 'borrow'
back ill-begotten cash
The notes I passed were fakes.
My weapons? Plastic toys!
Are real one's what it takes
to meet the Hardy Boys??
Diving into the depths of dams of disdain,
Scaling the seas, searching for success,
To prove the truth along with the pain
We endured and the challenges we have slain.
When they see us devouring safe hemlocks;
They portray pale and puzzled perceptions,
Glancing at the heavens like we are surreal,
A reality appearing to be unreal.
And we emerge, out of nowhere
Like angels awaiting divine instructions,
Believing that hope will light our torches
To serve our lucid but distinct functions.
When they see us living our nightmares,
They strive to survive and cease being fearful,
This is nothing but human nature,
Cannot be too cringe, cannot be too careful.
What if we became toxic and blind
To visualize the truth and justice we find?
Even though men believe what they see,
These sleuths are blind only if they chose to be.
So when they see us reaching for the sky
Like the sun shining from below,
When they see us watching over the earth
And they will—for they are watching us grow,
When they see us during our feeble stages
Like we are nothing and we do not know
That this life is in diverse phases
And ignorance, its most infamous foe!
They will see us,
And when they do,
May these words appear to be true.
@poet_AY
©2020