Long Interrogate Poems
Long Interrogate Poems. Below are the most popular long Interrogate by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Interrogate poems by poem length and keyword.
I've come to say a few things about our political involvement,
Important is this because our future is on the edge of precipice,
And is dangerously tilting irreversibly towards enslavement,
If urgently not arrested we pay the unholy bitter Price.
How easily a people once astute and meticulous,
Got swerved towards the edge of political escarpment,
Punders sane mind, so absurd and so ridiculous,
Though it be inflicted by unnegotiated predicaments.
Then make I bold to interrogate and not to despair,
To investigate, scrutinize and not to speculate,
Prescribing solutions so simple and so straight,
Least I be misjudged and suspiciously at glared.
Despise not that which I say because of its simplicity,
For truths, real truths unadulterated are always simple,
And need not be subjected to unwarranted duplicity,
But be accepted by souls learned and simple.
Is this predicaments not caused by lack of participation?
Was it not caused by poor political permutations?
Are we not plagued by lack of proper political calculation?
When against action we choose unfounded speculations.
Have we not indulged so much in self aggrandizement?
Have we not taken the destructive path to political oblivion?
Have we not despised the Zikist ideology and movement,
When we choose "sit at home" in every election?
Refused we not to galvanize 20 million votes for our leaders?
Have we not disdainfully despised our leaders,
And make it practically impossible to organize us?
When we claimed that politics is not for us?
What else on the negotiation table do we bring,
Except the uncalculated threats of secession?
What if on the table 20 Million votes we bring?
That would grant all our interests protection.
Oh! What is he saying? Does it really matter?
All we want is our freedom from this contraption,
Their political system is bedeviled with corruption,
So we do not want to get involved in their matter.
In the final analysis it does not really matter,
What the political system is - whether it be perfect.
We do not need perfect political systems,
We need political participation that's perfect.
I say this one and I cease to say no more,
I Say not everything for want of time and space,
But that we participate even as we continue to ask for more,
As people of peace who for others set the pace.
Happy National Friendship Day - August 6th, 2023
The idea of Friendship Day originated
in the United States in 1919,
proposed by Joyce Hall,
the founder of Hallmark cards.
It gained official recognition
when the U.S. Congress
proclaimed the first Sunday
of August as National Friendship Day in 1935.
Unlike this papa akin
to being racked, raided,
and raked with hot coals
during his adolescence devoid of
a social network and academic goals
if possible to magnify
psyche, one would see
mostly a torn (Turin) shred of holes.
Thy youngest (of deux) daughters
afflicted with developmental delay
did not overtly agitate
as much as myself, asper being
emotionally isolated, a miserable fate,
she participated with
supportive services how grate
full (this once psychologically dead papa),
progeny of his did not experience
chronic severe hate
Shana (Punim) blessed by fate
while a Lower Merion
High School student did great
fully experienced positive
munificent interpersonal bounty,
she didst illustrate
with smiles all around her countenance,
which sophomore socialization better late
than never, which friendlessness
(that didst plague this papa),
thee progeny didst obviate
thus, this poem
(to no one in particular),
expresses how I appreciate
the plethora of supportive
services, to ameliorate
bugaboo sans inferiority complex,
(ran rampant within self)
where mine imaginary
pals did commiserate
nevertheless, aye envy thine
woefully begotten Harris heiresses,
whose self esteem positively
of mine bolstered,
when as little girls
their needs and wants gave me purpose
ensure ring a confidential boost,
and now doth demonstrate
how remedial, and extracurricular activities
during and after class respectively,
combatted cognitive delay,
warding off bullies,
who did grate, humiliate
and interrogate, this middle aged
(he's a jolly good) fellow,
Johnny come late
lee to the "NON FAKE"
thrown into game of life
changing strengthened soul asylum
primary, secondary, and tertiary grades
where whipsawed,
pejoratively emasculated, jackknifed,
oppressed, traumatized, and yoked
hoary golem, unstintingly
bruiting, browbeating
and bamboozling gremlins
wrought zealous destruction.
The elevator opened on the 46th floor, to a small foyer and one plain, grey door
The door opened and a young girl, 10ish, in a blue, polo, tennis dress, said, “Hi! I’m Karen, you must be Anais. Will is around here somewhere. Aren’t you pretty, though? You go to school with Lisa? No wonder Will likes you.”
She skippingly ushered me from a bright, windowed, off-white, staircase entryway, into a deep-red, mahogany paneled library. A persian cat was soon underfoot, purring and winding around my legs.”That’s Misha,” Karen said, “just shoo her away if you don’t like cats.”
I stooped down to pet Misha who eagerly offered herself to be petted and admired. As I stroked her charcoal fur, Karen said, “Let me get Will,” as she scampered off.
A gold framed, impressionistic painting, pin-lit in bright crystalline light, hung over a fireplace. In the painting, two girls, in summer hats bright with startling red bows and yellow flowers, were sharing a book. The colors were rich, deep and swirling - it looked very much like a Renoir (I know my French artists). He’d done a whole “two girls” series. I drew closer - it wasn’t a print.
Though dazed by the opulence, I hadn’t missed what Karen had said. Will liked me. I longed to interrogate her about how exactly she knew Will liked me, and what form, exactly, Will’s liking took.
I know Will and Lisa (who would be joining us in a minute) are just friends. Not that it matters, we’re heading back to New Haven later - but Karen’s statements were capable of activating a girl's guy-dar.
Karen, wearing socks but no shoes, came to a sliding halt, on the wooden floor, by grabbing the door frame to stop an otherwise complete slide into the library. “You guys are going to the Ritz for lunch?” she asked, looking back over her shoulder, in a way that indicated that she knew the answer quite well.
The Ritz Carlton is a block away and our mission was to grab the food and bring it back here to eat. “Mind if I join?” she said, before I could answer her first question, all wide-eyed, blinking impatience.
“I don’t mind at ALL.” I said, Karen whooped and was off again down the hall. “I’M COMING TOO!” she yelled. I chuckled, knowingly - I’ve been there - I’m a little sister too.
Dear son,
Thanks for being patient with me
Though I feel that I am ignored
As being too antiquated and irrelevant to your life
Why would I interrogate Pinocchio?
It is hopeless to find anything in me to salvage
My last stroke of genius
Was getting my bid to father you accepted.
I am just so frustrated
How could everything I said or did just went over your head
If you look like me and walk and talk like me
Why can't you understand like me?
O forgive me, I have been too silent these years
To adopt the discourse of noise effectively now
Would it matter if I say I ws protecting you from bias and from tears
When a father has nothing left, he still feels he must protect his love ones
He still worry that the minotaur may harm one more child.
I know the pain of that lost
It haunts me deeply since your brother died; it changed me
I use to be just vulnerable and afraid of risk, now I am impotent.
My only weapon left is prayer, but it makes me uncomfortable
To think of an argument with God as a weapon.
This letter you ask, what is its purpose
Why can't two grown men meet and talk?
Meet? You have no time for me, I do not wear mascara
I cannot provoke your hormones to rebel against your judgment
I suddenly realize every conversation needs a drop of love to begin it.
I am neither judging your feelings nor confessing mine
You see, dear son, feelings for you is discontent of emotion
Love for me is a self so given it is nothing but sacrifice
This time the son has carved the father
Out of his image
And whittled him until the wood cries for joy.
Any which way I look at it
A knife in the hand is indicative of sacrifice
And redemption is a long way to the death of God.
When You Gotta Go You Gotta
We know when you go you really gotta,
After you had learned would be a lotta,
Coming out,
No doubt;
Even when temptation off had fought a.
Jim Horn
Trump Had Groveled Riding Horse
While riding on horse Trump is groveling;
Putin and he caused horse to be hobbling,
And while there,
Horse did share;
After being off horse both were wobbling.
Jim Horn
Trump Sticking Out Neck
Trump as usual would stick out neck,
They say had resulted in a big wreck,
Many hurt;
Blood on shirt,
When being bitten by a bloody insect.
Jim Horn
Trump Took Big Swig
Trump had taken another big swig,
After opening bottle with sharp twig,
To tavern go;
Did overflow;
And from head would loose their wig.
Jim Horn
Trump Trade Plan Not Well Laid
Poor are the present conditions of trade,
Which by Trump had not been well laid;
While we waited,
He devastated;
Into past we wish he would quickly fade.
Jim Horn
Trump Tried To Skate
From responsibility Trump tired to skate,
So him we should have to interrogate;
Chop off block,
Bunch of crock;
Heard he ended up becoming a cell mate.
Jim Horn
We were hostile having gone
down the Nile for a while in style.
Jim Horn
Both Joined At Hip
Knew that they both had been joined at hip,
And to separate them we should start to clip;
Checked a lot;
Found right spot;
On cutting utensil you must have a good grip.
Jim Horn
Beginning Had Been Born
God made things they way they have been;
From absolute zero is where world would begin;
Absolutely pure;
Eternity endure,
And beginning had been born without any sin.
Jim Horn
Tit for Tat Done By Doormat
If it truly would be tit for tat,
Don't be dumb as a door mat;
Mixed feeling;
Not appealing;
Could result in mortal combat.
Jim Horn
Listening to MSNBC and came
up with this one.
Lovely Lady in My Life
She sure is lovely lady in my life,
Who I want for my wonderful wife;
Kind and clever;
Do love forever;
So full of love and free from strife.
Jim Horn
I still follow
the blinking spells
of the rose wine sunsets
before surging sandstorms,
believing in the euphoric breeze
floating across the
shivering skyline,
echoing vermilion voices,
lost in the limestone grains,
as questions of change
interrogate the empathy
encrypted within
my inhibited intuition,
like spices of kismet flames,
swirling to the fluid fluency
of sentimental keys
in saxophone tunes…
But in the midst of moving monsoons,
I feel the eagle feathers of Zeus
rain upon the crystalline swing,
crooning songs of tameless time~
wrapped in the crescent cocoon
of silent splendor,
as I rise, dressed in steel and silver.
I hear the bluebird dream
in symphonies of the karmic sea,
streaming with specters
of star-struck ghosts…
O majestic marine jewel,
change is a promised ocean.
It’s sprouting coral blues
from reefs of ambergris embers,
awaiting floods of onyx tears
and jagged thistles,
like a tsunami of smeared streaks
reflecting the smoke
and swollen stains of the red sun.
Tonight, I erase the last mistake;
a scribbled imitation
of my aching past,
for I could not veil the scars,
failing to seize the
splitting clusters of
slate and garnets,
burning between
sleepless lakes,
drenched in midnight terrors,
as satanic waves
blur the turquoise surfing
through the limitless twilight.
Yet, I hear the mermaid moon
call my name in magical refrains,
steering my iridescent silhouette
to an ivory shore
where ebony hints of ink
would home the hermit castles,
where you and I can breathe~
as soulmates destined
to draw neon lifelines from
bioluminescent sparkles…
So let the bluebird drift into an orchid dream
where karma is the poet~
draped in deep violet,
writing elegies
to the eclipsed eyes of the red sun
that stole the silk and sage
of summer sighs…
And change is more than just a mere rhyme,
it is the ultimate essence
to rearrange
whimsical words
woven within wind
from honey and gold
of a
dulcet
dawn.
Please stop this roller coaster because I do not see the thrill, my heart it feel’s so cold that it’s past the point of chill. Up and down and left to right holding on with all my might, help me dear lord I can’t take this decline all warped and withered like old grapes on a vine.
My seat belt is failing and my legs are getting weak and I don’t think I’ll make it to see final peak. The gears are getting chipped the grease getting thin, I can’t take this damage for it’s cutting within. Moving so fast like a fish on a reel pulling and tugging to avoid final meal.
This rides way to long and it judges oh so quick, tossing and turning and I’m sure I’ll be sick. Why does it go so high but then oh so low, at this rate I won’t last and I pray I will go. Please dear God why must I ride, for you gave your life for my sins when you died.
Why’s life so hard and what did I do wrong, am I being punished for sinning so long? Where is my blessing for I need this to end for you said you’d be there always and in you I depend.
Just when I think it’s over God states his case he says to hold on for you’ve stepped out of place. How dare you interrogate me when I’ve said what to do and you chose this ride that’s to big for you. I said to have faith just a small amount you see and you step out on your own and have the nerve to question me.
Just give me your heart and you can be free for this ride can last forever if to me you don’t heed. This rides just a taste of what is in store if you don’t wake up soon you’ll burn to the core. Everyone has problems but different ways they prevail, with God on your side no matter what you won’t fail.
He never gives you more than he thinks you can handle like a very small wick in a very large candle. As long as you have life than your always lit, so ride that roller coaster until God makes you quit.
Thank you and thank God for the roller coasters of life!
Jacob Malachi Applin 5/5/05
Form:
This long time doodling Yankee
(who calls Southeastern Montgomery, Pennsylvania LV
plus III four seasons visited
upon swath of topography to see
and hear flora and fauna over run
via industrialization he doth experience pity
sympathy, humanity deafening cacophony undermining
once abundant bounty, which mutiny
upon bounty outwits mother nature in this REAL LIFE “GAME” of jeopardy
where survival of the fattest dominates avast geography
thence a tempest in a global teapot doth brew
which phenomena Gaia foments, inducing meteorologists due
tee fully issuing catastrophic fallout asper category 5 carved foo
tang clan along Gulf Coast
reserving special vengeance (alas domino effect)
for oil derricks hue mans insatiably drill into
ever more difficult to access reservoirs sans fossil fuels, but Jew
blintz echoes across watery expanse when excavator loo
king for liquid gold hit a mother lode (or off shoot) exciting new
man hick pumps furiously fracking gnome hatter
watching grim faced absent magic spells such as phew
fi foe...aghast at the rapacious, pernicious, malicious....rue
th less ness heaped upon Planet Earth,
where tipping point
re: specifically *****Sapiens over population will true
lee interrogate meteorological altercations, conflagrations, and
exterminations of multitudinous botanical & animal genus or species
as wrath of monster storms akin to a oceanic brigand
wreaking loss of life and limb, additionally bringing destruction
as megadeath metal lick ha - monstrous maelstrom
mercilessly muscles itself when making land
fall, where record rainfall submerges once smug Texans man
dated to evacuate far from the pan
demon harum-scarum as retribution for incessant lambasting wan
ton ness exploiting terrestrial resources selfishly will eventually ban
hush the dominant primate requisitioned to become extinct – anon.
Unlike this papa akin
to being racked, raided,
and raked with hot coals
during his adolescence devoid of
a social network and academic goals
if possible to magnify
psyche, one would see
mostly a torn shred of holes
thy youngest (of deux) daughters
did not agitate
as much as myself, asper being
emotionally isolated, a miserable fate
she participated with
supportive services how grate
full (this once psychologically dead papa),
progeny did not experience
chronic severe hate
Shana (Punim) blessed by fate
while a Lower Merion
High School student did great
fully experience positive
munificent interpersonal bounty,
she didst illustrate
with smiles all around her countenance,
which sophomore socialization better late
than never, which friendlessness
(that didst plague this papa),
thee progeny didst obviate
thus, this poem
(to no one in particular),
expresses how I appreciate
the plethora of supportive
services, to ameliorate
bugaboo sans inferiority complex,
(ran rampant within self)
where mine imaginary
pals did commiserate
nonetheless, aye envy thine
begotten Harris heiress,
whose self esteem positively bolstered
ensure ring a confidential boost,
and now doth demonstrate
how remedial, and extracurricular activities
during and after class respectively,
combatted cognitive delay,
warding off bullies,
who did grate, humiliate
and interrogate, this middle aged
(he's a good) fellow,
Johnny come late
lee to the "NON FAKE" game of life
changing strengthened soul asylum
primary, secondary, and tertiary grades
where whip sawed, pejoratively emasculated
hoary golem, unstintingly bruiting, brow beating
and bamboozling gremlins
wrought zealous destruction!
CLUELESS
Your quietness makes me lose track of time,
Feels so empty without the sound of your voice,
My heart actually pounds to fill up this void!
“Where‘re you?” Shrieks desperate voices in my mind..
To my dismay, echoes of my footsteps responded to my concern.
Sleeping without whispers of your voice pushes me in deep tunnels of melancholy,
This lump in my heart tempts me to take a barbiturate and fall into a deep reverie.
No solace in my own cubicle…
Walls crashes over me,
Halls bang doors before me,
Malls disguise you…
Unreachable you‘re, but you just standing there invisible!
Yet in my dreams you are visible!
Why, why, why…
That once in a blue moon you drop a call without a text,
freezing me to death as you elope into sudden silence?
Your tongue slips easily into defense,
yet you wouldn’t jump over the fence!
Your reasons are addictive like Marilyn Monroe’s lies,
Really there is no need for us to be lovers and liars,
Because we sensitively aware of our fate!
Truth is, you ‘re a compatible mate,
But you fight to tame,
Well, that isn’t fame!
Yes, you are fallible, no need to be obscure,
Its in everyone’s genes.
Sometimes I wish to emigrate to another planet,
Therefore, you won’t be my magnet!
Residing within your flesh will be a pleasurable resolution,
Crazy thoughts I have sometimes,
Wish to sneak in your mind, your heart,
To get true versions of your thoughts about me, us…
With all the compliments, drags along the impediments,
Very ironic because love has to be impeccable!
So irrational for you to disappear, lest you confirm its our apogee’
No need for you to take a ride because im too gullible…
It’s a fact, my love to you is very legit,
But allow me to interrogate, do you still…
Love me?
Need me?
Don wanna lose me??
Thought of it is scary
Because im CLUELESS
By Lebo-G Faith