Long Interrogations Poems
Long Interrogations Poems. Below are the most popular long Interrogations by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Interrogations poems by poem length and keyword.
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
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
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.
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)
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
I am running from a iniquitous force
Feeling his fiery breath on my neck
I am so tired of trying to escape from it
I am so tired of being trapped in this gloomy abyss
Chained to his endless interrogations
Where no answer I can ever give will satisfy his fury
Twisting every word that parts my lips
Transforming my syntax from what I mean to convey
Into an interpretation all of his own creation
Cold and callous
An unforgiving heart lies inside him
For there is a record of every sin
That I have ever committed against him
And no punishment he ever gives me
Will erase them in his mind
All of my past transgressions become ammunition
That will be used against me whenever he sees fit
As a diabolical method to destroy me
Inadvertently by my own hand
Plans of vengeance consume his thoughts
For he is the mastermind
With his own type of justice
He does not dispense his chastisement
In an equitable manner
The Biblical eye for an eye
Is just the beginning of his wrath
For he cannot sojourn there
The intensity and duration of my penance
Is completely at his discretion
And even though I paid my penalty today
That does not mean that he will not be ready
To inflict more torment on me tomorrow
For the same crime for which
I have already received punishment
I wake to a ceiling that never changes.
The light spills in like an accusation.
Time is a slow leak,
dripping purpose onto the floor
where my feet no longer rush.
I used to believe in ladders.
Now I just stare at ceilings
and wonder if floors exist.
I measure my days in coffee spoons,
tiny scoops of borrowed energy.
The steam rises, restless and aimless
like thoughts I never finish.
They settle somewhere I can’t reach.
I used to believe in sunrise ,
Now I just pour the day
and ponder if hours dissolve.
I suit up for stray interrogations
pride buttoned up like a carapace.
Sweat trickles and tickles
like suspicion crawling down my spine.
I drape pantomime across hunched shoulders.
I used to believe in conversations,
Now I just nod my head
and surrender to the script.
I tally stones and crumpled bottles
toss them like failed intentions
into the bin of almosts,
where echoes of effort rustle
like mice skittering down rusty footpaths.
I used to believe in plans.
Now I just trace the outlines
and color them in with sighs.
I crawl toward the bed like a deadline I missed.
Even sleep feels like work I am not qualified for.
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
You don't have to see this:
You don't have to stress the eyes
Cause you won't understand
Yes!
You would not
You don't have to...
Nothing is wrong!
You don't have to read my poem
You will wither into my pain
Please don't read these lines
You could be caged in.
Please don't go further
Tears may freely roll
Eyes may freely swollen
Hearts may easily bleed
If you continue with this write
It may read the truth
Yes!
I said stop!
I have been accused
I have been depressed
I have been blamed
I have been chained
I have been bullied
Raped
Ignored
Used
Betrayed
Mostly for zero cause
I can feel your concern
Yes!
I can!
But you should not...
Life is funny
And I have seen it
You don't have to see that
You don't have to think that
Cause nothing is wrong
Do not worry
Do not think it
Do not stress it
I am fine
Forget the allegations
Forget the interrogations
Forget the accusation
I mean forget the...
I am fine
Nothing is wrong
Just let me be
I need to be alone
I need peace
I need rest
Please, leave me in the dark
I am fi... ??
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!