Long Alibi Poems
Long Alibi Poems. Below are the most popular long Alibi by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Alibi poems by poem length and keyword.
Calm entity
entered in disguise,
silence before the scream,
walked in flesh and clotted blood.
No empathy,
no sympathy—
only rage and a ticking bomb.
Each slay, barbaric despair.
Each pulse, a metronome of fate.
Each breath, a ticking alibi.
Invasion. Foul play.
Mind occupied,
inquiring around—
an art of silent prayers
no one understands.
Lucifer commands, all in delusion.
Garnished trophies to remember the names.
No fumbling, no rambling—
only mind-twisted monsters,
carved in bones and thirsty for more.
Breathe in fresh air,
roam through crowded spaces,
slow and calm,
wearing a veil of illusion.
Wearing gloves of blood,
just like you and me—
he vanishes into thin air.
He doesn’t chase,
doesn’t flee,
just the blade cutting through—
then smiles in your mirrors,
Whispers the satanic lullabies,
a cold-blooded monster
burried in a coffin
that nobody knows.
Banished to a cursed new land
Scars cover my jagged hands
My soul committed homicide
Took in a breath full of cyanide
I’m in chains, tied to false crimes
But your evidence fails every time
So dress me up for a court date
The warden will become my mate
Now I’m a condemned woman
Who only lost her cautious footing
My only victim is myself, judge
Not my fault I like to hold a grudge
Prison clothes rub under my skin
Starting to feel pain from within
Should I have given my alibi?
Or should I have stayed inside?
I’m starting to lose my crazy mind
Because my lawyers, they won’t find
Anything real that clears my name
Maybe I’m starting to go insane
Now I’m a condemned woman
Who only lost her cautious footing
My only victim is myself, judge
Not my fault I like to hold a grudge
My ex-fella, what a great kinda guy!
He didn’t cheat, only got stupid high
But whatever was found in his blood?
Work of his dealer, not his love
But nobody ever seems to believe it
They’re the reason I’ve lost all spirit
These cold bars police my heart
When will the true torture start?
Freedom seems prettier than diamond
I can’t help but get a bit excited
When I remember his new girl was there
Running oils through his light hair
I was condemned woman
Who only lost her cautious footing
But now I’m free from any charge
That new girl’s bail will be gone
There was no better disc jockey than J. J. Wilson.
In the Big Apple, he was considered number one.
Over the radio waves, his listeners called him the best.
His agent gets him a new job out west.
What radio station starts broadcasting at the midnight hour
with only five thousand watts of power?
Here was J. J. in an odd place so dark and cold.
His surroundings were a small building with equipment quite old.
His agent named Sid had Emily for a wife.
A short time before, Emily took her own life.
Any involvement in her death J. J. would deny.
Out fishing with another friend was the disc jockey’s alibi.
The broadcasting was planned with no deviation.
Mr. Wilson had to play certain records at the station.
The sounds were the callings of the evil masters by name.
They congregated to sacrifice their victim in a crucible’s flame.
J. J. saw some framed images on the wall.
What he noticed was something that would appall.
The pictures were disc jockeys who worked at the station.
Each one was employed for only one night’s duration.
J. J. Wilson soon joined this deceased group of elite.
Satan took Mr. Wilson’s soul as he went down to defeat.
Based on the Night Gallery episode “The Flip Side of Satan”.
Tim was the new judge in Deadwood Flat
Not really qualified, just a rancher at that
He first case was of the outlaw, Horace Slade
Caught red handed in a cattle raid
The jury took ten minutes to recommend the noose
Better than letting this rattlesnake loose.
Tim smoothed out his robe, asked Slade to speak
Slade perked up, though his future was bleak
"It was only my brain, my brain it was me.
Badly constructed, that's how I plea
My thoughts, my feelings, my crooked way
All preprogrammed in my DNA!
"You see Dad was a member of the cardshop mob
Mom always drunk, and moreover a slob
My twin set a cat on fire at the age of three
So, who could predict much hope for me?
Tim panicked, searched his dictionary
Couldn't find DNA, wished he was on the prairie
He had never heard that excuse before
But said to Slade, "proceed, tell us more"
Slade felt hope, and got on a roll
He said "ain't no such thing as a soul'
"I know the computer hasn't been invented yet
"But we're programmed, coded, our path in life set!
"I shot a man to watch him die
Then partied at the bar for an alibi
Not my fault, an MRI would have shown
My limbic system, quiet as a stone.
The jury murmured, Tim gave a sigh
What was a computer, or an MRI?
Slade's nonsense was going too far
Slade could have used a lesson in better P.R.
Tim said, "I hope what you say is not true
I like soul and spirit, the afterlife too.
But either way, some feelings I can't transcend
My brain wants your pointless existence to end!
They planned to hang Slade on the Alder tree
Justice would be served, jury did agree
Then Slade tried a ploy, to explain his crime
He yelled "I'm a traveler through time!"
"I come from the year 2024
DNA, MRI, computers and more
Got stuck in a time warp, had to survive
You'd do the same to stay alive"
They had to let Slade go, agreed he's insane
Tim didn't like to do it, it went against the grain
But Deadwood Flats couldn't hang a guy
Who believed in computers, DNA, and MRI!
This is the Simplest alibi of this timeless magnum Opus, that I am not the capital
This is a point of exclamation in me, that I am not the majestic warrior
eternal.
Only one hope is remaining there, and up she goes, in round and round
I will be there, with you, to the farthest, along a shore of life, predestined.
In a lonely lit-up night, an enchanted one, the midnight hymn came as mine
My beloved, your face had the bliss of a smile line, my chime.
In one unbearable moon-lit day, when the solar lamp dimmed low
I knocked at your door, there
Weaving some knick knack, words sounding pretty, I yearned for you.
My love, where art thou?
I’m the center. You are my encircled bohemian, the only eternal , staying there that remains!
I’m the empire in your submerging love, an entropy ruling in me, all that fall short in sense!
I’m the center. You are my encircled bohemian, the only eternal , staying there that remains!
I’m the empire in your submerging love, an entropy ruling in me, all that fall short in sense!
Love, an endless epic for poets, wandering swiftly through the reigning gypsy times.
For no good reason, a blister in a scorching hot sandy dune, then a sleepy oasis chimes.
I thought that I’m an exception there, a loner , far from the madding crowd.
Too cuddly a love, only a mannerism, words are often playing there, as it could.
Why are you that smile at me that rules me often on the full swing whim?
Why are you that sweet poem on a versed phone call, in words of a brim?
Today, you’re a enchained latitude in my gaze, too long a brushstroke in my palette
I am a helpless frozen teardrop there, brittled.
I’m the center. You are my encircled bohemian, the only eternal , staying there that remains!
I’m the empire in your submerging love, an entropy ruling in me, all that fall short in sense!
I reached the domain of stardom, from the Jupiter to the saturn
A nomadic I, traveler through your passion of love, in high, a mere elongation. Expression.
I’m the center. You are my encircled bohemian, the only eternal , staying there that remains!
I’m the empire in your submerging love, an entropy ruling in me, all that fall short in sense!
The remains of the day
So being to start again once the sun
goes down and day comes to an end
12 o'clock is when it starts and
12 o'clock is also whence it ends
as well
Only difference being am or pm
And if you did anything noteworthy
to fill the gap's in time between
the hours of say
12 am
Till
12 pm
Otherwise it's just like any another day
And if someone was to ask you what
did you do or where we're you
As hard as you may try and think
you probably wouldn't have a clue
If nothing of significance happened
to make it stand out or be able to
recount
Your whereabouts between the hour's
of say 12 am and 12 pm
Why do I need an alibi
The good thing about the end of the world is,
For some, it never even began.
A world filled with hate, suffering and lies
And every kind of self serving alibi
I start back over so many times i forget it hurts.
This world is a lonely graveyard with darkening hearts
It strikes heartless and hard.
Days of thunder is like an arc above an ark.
The world is at its doomsteps it elevated to itself
Just another step in stonestep preps
Something to carve their name into,
thinking it will fulfill them
Its just a wasted shot with a wasted breathe
But though the darkness descends,
The dawn must recommence once again.
We spoke in semaphore of smirks,
A dialect of sideways quirks—
Our mouths full up with mirage and pun,
Unconscious artists come undone.
She, a flower in a field of noise,
Parsed our pose as preening boys—
Not cruel, but tuned to frequencies
That echo long through apologies.
Our verbs wore vests too tight with charm,
Syntax stitched with latent harm.
We hadn’t meant to start a war—
Yet metaphors, once launched, implore.
Intent becomes the alibi
Of those who never learned to pry
Beneath the comfort of a jest—
A laugh can undress all the rest.
She read our pause, our sideways glance,
Not as a walk, but a strange dance
In which the lead was vague, and yet
Each footstep left a silhouette.
Solitude is now a trained trait
It’s easier than teaching the selfish to cooperate
Past the lights of yesterday
I see tomorrow fade away
Mundane voices talk with ease
Explaining why we go to sleep
Hieroglyphics carved in walls
Lead the way into our stalls
Different tones above our skies
Give our gods an alibi
Friendless souls still stomp around
Deciding if they own our town
Pristine people right and true
Can be bribed to work four you
Forced in to a governmental sacrifice
Seems to decrease our economical price
My minds been monopolized
Taken hostage by a pack of lies
Our love smothers, we destroy with hate
Emotional providences we can’t regulate
Poison from a broken heart
Can be used to dip a dart
Men have fought on foreign land
War has always been freedoms demand
Fallen comrades buried deep
Buried with the maps we seek
Thoughts not directly from my mind
Take refuge in my memory at times
Strong and educated we are immense
Unable though to choose sides of defense
A stagnate society lies in wait
Watching to see what our children create
Promises made of true satisfaction
Redeemed By investing in political action
The flag though torn still it waves
Granting our freedom, although were not enslaved
We have the choice or so they claim
To play like them or lose the game
Our elders, our teachers, to us they now run
Grappling at their justice; for answers, to us come.
HAPPY WOMAN DIVORCEE
{'answer back to Happy Man Divorcee'}
Now listen here brother
You used to be my husband
But you spend more time,
With your boyz and your mother
Now it's too bad we couldn't
Make it till death do use part
But alas remember it was you who cheated
You're the one who broke OUR hearts
So you lawyer-ed up
I got the defense and it's four-down
You were and are shady
Got me a good lawyer lady
By the name of 'Shawn Chapman-Holley'
And boy she's gonna git all your money
Yeah, yeah your rich
But I ain't gonna regret
Gettin all your change
Cause you won't change
When I'm done with you
You gonna pay them dues
You don't owe me nothing
But when I'm through ain't gonna own
Much of somethings
Yeah, yeah you were all that
Making 13 thousand an hour
CEO and in full control
You said in your alibi
You had something in your eye
That is why you strayed
Well like that dog
That's what's you are
And honey you can keep the CAT
Cause when I'm done with you
It's me you should have choose
CAUSE ANY WAY YA WEREN'T ALL THAT
So I hope you enjoy this goodbye pie
I know your favorite dish
Hope ya get diarrhea
You should have know better lookin,
in my diary of a mad black woman
for all those's haters, wife abusers, cheaters and losers
MADEA
ha! ha! ha! ha! ;)
11/20/17
written by James Edward Lee Sr