Long Investigator Poems
Long Investigator Poems. Below are the most popular long Investigator by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Investigator poems by poem length and keyword.
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The Cinematic Film Treatment as poetic element
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Snickering Bastards
Two chattering ravens narrate a tale of blind revolution and seedy redemption, as we follow a Raisinseed V9.003, the latest hermaphrodite sex worker cyborg prototype grown by the Non Sequitur Corp from lawn cuttings, in her or his meandering narrative from birth to illumination, at the beginning of which we first see Raisinseed's body parts being vapor gun printed from lab rat DNA by Prof. "Bam Bam" Bernie Roundhole, who has secretly grown Raisinseed alongside an evil twin kidnapped with the Professor's connivance by gypsy low riders, deviously paid by the Bureau of Land Management, to detect clandestine ectoplasm at the FEMA Summer Camp Ouija Board séances held in a recently constructed chain link and razor wire facility in a devious scheme to harness the power of human gullibility, where the twins' only link to sanity and dietary sustenance was the giant artificial cow udder they both suckled with the help of a mysterious one eyed Hungarian ex-Tatar payroll robbing Romany Brigade railroad bandit turned private investigator (whence or hence the eye logo on his business card that read "DEEP, DEEPER, DEEPEST!"), the Sure Bet brand dowsing rod inventor, and his partner, the equally mysterious "Tubby" Tepys, who sells the secret Twin (named X for the purposes of this narrative) to the hunch backed majordomo of Castle Bathory, and who, over the span of two generations of political mud wrestling, reveals the key to the reuniting of the twins utilizing the tracking capabilities of a "Mark of the Beast" model branding iron and Homeland Security RFID laser detector which slingshots via the Einsteinian space time reversal dilemma in a mathematical simulation that employs the separated twins for an inter-departmental National Plasmatic Administration foundation grant fund raising public service announcement about the potential for life "out there", and they are reunited by men who shrink heads with the help of tungsten filament light bulbs.
(to be continued)
From "Theater of Utter Charm"
Available on Amazon
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
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
educated by the ancient twin mystics
right eye and left eye
to nurture nature a desire for beauty
and sweet self astonishment
can't perceive without perceiving
music of the spheres for dummies
the elderly should be smarter than they are
being close to death and all
instead the investigator discovers
a massive construction of leashes
not even the angry wish monsters
can cut them loose and free
being elderly in form I have but one wish
women throw your bodies on me
Fallopia Prestwich was all over me
like cat fur on a velvet couch
purring a tune in the laps of
generals statesmen and priests
during the war of the hormones
it looks like my cheap suit cologne
apparently got between her legs
but I was done with her abstract threats
of revenge litigation and outright damnation
but she was a circus muse who untrained horses
she could pitch a dime up a hopping toad's ass
her beauty left me speechless
fortunately for my many invisible readers
I was not also left writeless
the assignment was simple and brilliant
to assess the capacity of all humanity
to put therapeutic levels of intelligence
into their daily thrill ride
yah but what is it really other than
a figure 8 demolition derby
all the pedals to the metal
and the animator of all that there is
rolls up and gives me a bumper push
to the Brickpile checkered flag
even though I refuse to believe
his dimwit tale of redemption for a price
do this do that don't think just do it
bring me the head of Calliope
and we'll open her blessed plenum
well I rebelled and continue to do so
consequently here's a big kiss on the lips
for all the young Pioneers of the Soviet Union
anything named pioneer can't be all bad
and here's a big dog lick in the ear
for every Rabbi Mufti Priest and Magus
who thought they had the truth in a cage
stick this target over your ass
simple rational practical elegant
now send me some ding dong missionary money
Hellboy is a well-meaning fictional half-demon Superhero,
he was created by Mike Mignola and first appeared in a 1993 comic;
his mother has died but was a human witch called Sarah Hughes;
and his father is Azzael, the Archduke of Hell. Hellboy was conceived in 1617.
He was summoned from Hell to Earth by Nazi Occultist to spawn hatred,
but that failed and he was adopted by Professor Trevor Bruttenholm;
and was raised a normal boy except for the tail, horns, and a stone hand,
in time he grew to be a very large red skinned adult with cloven feet.
His oversized right hand is made of stone and is called The Hand of Doom,
and he has super human strength, resists injury, heals quickly from all things;
like machine guns, swords, falls from extreme heights, and from fire,
he works for the B.P.R.D. -The Bureau For Paranormal Research and Defense.
Hellboy is considered the worlds greatest paranormal investigator,
as he can comprehend all languages (but he can be killed;)
he has inspired countless comics, series, films, graphic novels,
paperback books, even games. This is a superhero to have as a friend.
He was killed twice, once in a fight with a Dragon and Blood Queen,
and again with a Witch and an Iron Maiden, so, how does he come back;
the first time he was found in a coffin and came back to life,
and the second time he died- he was seen in Hell later drinking in a pub.
and so the story continues ...
_________________________
January 14, 2022
Poetry/Bio/Hellboy
Copyright Protected, ID 01-1421-598-14
All Rights Reserved, 2022, Constance La France
Written for the Standard contest, Mignolaverse
sponsor, Robert James Liguori, Judged 01/31/2022
First Place
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.”
Crime scene investigators were searching in every corner
Looking for that last piece of evidence to convict
All that was found in the dark room with no furniture
Was a lightless halo, few feathers, and blood as though pricked
“Situation not too good” said the chief investigator
I cannot explain where this all came from as we need
Whose blood is this on the cold linoleum floor?
If it is the blood of the holy one why does he bleed?
The bounty hunter now with a new assignment
To find the one who killed the creator
Situation has arisen from the west he felt through his senses
That the killer is still lurking better know as the new maker
The lonely hunter trailing the wanted again feels this curse
From the south it came as though trailed on a hearse
Except this time the hunter was being hunted from the abyss
As a horn rose up high as fire erupted slitting his wrist
The new creator stood above the hunters decaying body
Life now ejected from his eyes blackened out with light
Before the hunter could lock eyes on the murderer so holy
A voice struck from the darkened room where he lay lonely
The voice was that of himself as he saw a reflection in the mirror
“Who is the killer of the creator and soon to be me” he stated
As the mirror opened up revealing the new maker he startled
Their eyes met and he saw the lightless halo, few feathers and his blood
His blood dripping from the hands of the wingless angel of the dark
The hunters’ eyes closed ever so slowly in pure disbelief of what he saw
The murderer of the creator of life was his right hand man who beckoned as his
call
The murderer sought revenge on his creator…..the murderer was Lucifer
Form:
People surround until they stop expecting……...the upright stands alone…an intelligent walks alone……moral and ethics struggle to prove themselves right……friends and relatives are born disguised competitors…smiling faces burn inside……money is all that allures, attracts, builds and shreds!
The purpose of living has some how changed. Sadly love, need, relations and satisfaction just have one synonym and we call it ‘Money’!
Just opened my eyes and looked around.
To see relations and loved ones surround.
Warmth and love galore a protective enshroud.
To the relations _ my treasures I bowed.
Powered emotions hazed out the vividness to decode.
Seeking requite bleeds as most excruciating pain to hound?
Smiling faces, comforting gestures confound.
Meaning of life, someday somebody may expound.
Altruistic and empathizing hands of those who smilingly crowned.
Laughs and gags of illusive friends abound.
Sinking heart still eager as sleuth – hound.
Ability to serve the greed _ monetary worth redounds.
Disquiet feelings are profound.
Greed is love and money impounds.
Magic of money is spell bound.
Meaning of life astounds.
WORD REFERENCE:
Sleuth – hound: an eager investigator
Altruistic – unselfish
Astound – Surprise
Impound – Seize and take legal custody
Profound – Very great or intense.
Redound - Contribute greatly to (a person's credit or honour)
Hound – Scare
Abound – Exist in large number
Expound - Present and explain (a theory or idea) in detail.
Confound - Cause confusion in (someone), especially by not according with their expectations.
Enshroud – Envelop completely and hide from view.
Disquiet - A feeling of worry or unease
It’s really morbid, depressing, and sad,
at the gunpowder factory in town,
and the clean up is almost complete
since the factory was razed to the ground,
and here in the lounge of the tavern,
the inquiry’s about to begin,
‘cause this is where most of the workers,
who witnessed what happened’s within.
And so poor Charlie Higgins’ deceased.
A friend to us drinkers here in the pub,
and the question is rife - ‘what happened?’
The investigator searched for the rub.
I listened to all of his workmates,
explain through the beer, sobs and their tears,
about being in shock; hearing the bang,
until Bertie Simpson quietly appears.
Now Charlie was Bert’s closest colleague,
where the gunpowder’s mixed in a room,
so here was the the only eye witness,
who was there through the fire and the boom.
The investigator asked “so what happened?”
then all our eyes converged onto Bert,
who emptied his glass, and cleared his throat,
before his evidence to the expert.
“Charlie and I were in the mixing room,
when I saw Charlie lift a cigarette out,
and when he lit it I saw a few sparks.
The next thing I knew I was up and about.
The joint was like neon signs in a cyclone,
filled with smoke when the flames died down,
I was dazed and confused and went looking,
to see where Charlie was hanging around.”
The investigator asked in stunned horror,
“Charlie smoked where gunpowder is made!
How long had he been working in there?”
Bert shrugged and said “more than a decade.”
“Ten years in a room filled with danger;
You’d think it’d be his last silly act!”
And Bert sniffed and wiped away tears,
“Well it was as a matter of fact.”
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)