Long Suspect Poems
Long Suspect Poems. Below are the most popular long Suspect by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Suspect poems by poem length and keyword.
We are armchair detectives
My husband and I
Yelling “lawyer!”
When they put the suspect
In an interrogation room, on TV
We are no longer amazed when the perp turns into an automatic motor mouth
Even though he was a tough guy a few seconds before, refusing to talk.
We yell out who we think did it in a
Competitive way, getting excited toward the end
Right before the perpetrator is revealed.
Shaking our heads, feeling superior, safe in the confines of
Our Lazy Boys, we have become forensic experts.
My husband is always amazed when my guesses are correct
It is not that I am that smart, it is that I guess
Everybody
In a half hour, I have yelled out every single person’s name
On the show
Covering all my bases.
Why he pretends to never catch on is anyone’s guess.
Either he has never figured it out
Or he does not care.
Meaning we might stay married another forty-seven years.
I never know my body has rotten
until it appears through the wall mirror
these remains are heaped upon an autan
next spire takes a hearer turn for queerer
now urban commercial cores of gulag
I am a particular schlockier
for signs which are cheap to erect as clague
extensions can be found from that nearer
some convergent, others conflicting stun
I suspect having to do with my craag
this penetrates deeply into a gun
into the family into dague
extreme lengths to which I loosely spun
remain a shadow in place to slither
I would give you space
And there would be no pouting
If we did not want to talk for weeks, hours or days
For we would both understand the value of think time
I am an avid thinker and assume you are also.
I used to have my own dark room.
It is gone now, but this makes me well-aware
You might want to share yours, and you might not.
I would respect your decision, and not pout about it.
I am respectful and fancy you are too.
We could talk about everything
but also live in days of silence
Neither angry or sad, knowing
the other was stewing around ideas
I abhor pouting and if you do not, you should.
We could run off and away
Doing impulsive, crazy, hilarious things
Or we could spend years at home
In Lazy-boys, reading our dictionaries
I sense we both love being impulsive and hilarious.
Neither feeling slighted or irritated
That the other wanted their private time
I can think of no better
Coupling than this
I am psychic, and suspect you are too.
"Most people would sooner die than think, in fact, they do," ... Bertrand Russell (Quote hidden within the Sonnet in Italics)
Sonnet:
Most of the time when I'm under the sun,
ought not to watch nor pass by on people,
befuddled about clock-glued eyes outrun,
a zenith star would climb o'er the steeple.
Sooner all will suspect that life's too brief,
plus, die surrounds confidence merits life.
I've improved rather than grasp my belief,
and think I got the choice result *fehl strife.
Confuse not in the consequence head-on,
direct my route, let that star point beyond,
a scale that exacts stealthily who's drawn,
bargain heightened the fact I did respond.
I discovered they who do take time, plans
to firmly coil, so to turn the clock's hands.
Haiku:
time when life's too brief
surrounds confidence improved
choice direct star point
Monoku:
beyond drawn fact discovered who do take time
~~
plans to turn the clock's hands
*fehl: fault; flaw; failure
Why the AK-47 in the hands of the innocent
The innocent has cried out
For too long
For too long
We have been ambushed
By strangers
Unknown to us with a trace
Yes we can't suspect who
They are cos they aren't
Far from our lands
The scars of the tribal wars
Before never stops to end today
Our dignity looks marginalized
By those not in peace with us
Tribalism never ends
In Africa
Such as Racism never ends
In the world
We can't be dying for nothing
We can't continue to lose our love ones
In the hands of this strangers
We always face unwanted brutal
Attacks from this strangers
There pursuit is our destruction
So the fight never end
As the innocent chose to defend their right
If you are still wondering
Why the AK-47 in the hand of the innocent
(Dedicated to all Biafrans World wide )
“Tee is tard to under-tand,” she tells me.
She is a bit difficult to understand herself.
I suspect she might need speech services.
“T’s married to my gandma; t’s my gandpa-in-law.”
It is really difficult for me to keep my face straight now.
But I do. I have had decades of experience doing it.
Her front teeth are missing, perfectly okay for age six.
I smile at her. She gives me that big double gap grin.
I wonder what other family business she will be telling me.
Okay, here it comes.
A story about Uncle Willy the fee-loader.
This is getting good.
I hand her a new coloring sheet.
This is the key to unlocking the rest of the story.
“Tee takes and takes and takes,” she says.
I smile.
She has stopped crying now.
That was the goal of sending her to me.
I am the elementary school counselor.
What you thought you were true was wrong,
I'm saddened over someone to whom I could belong.
Every suspicious look
made you turn back,
and create the myths about me;
those feelings of confusion
tempted to move you along secretly
and tag me, but that was a hallucination.
What you thought was were true was wrong,
I'm saddened over someone to whom I could belong.
The sense of fear that
depressed you along with jealousy
gave you sleepless nights and
a reason to suspect each word
I said and watch over me;
the jealous type doesn't
walk away from that easily...
she is the one who has
a doubtful attitude
and avoids being alone.
What you thought were true was wrong,
I'm saddened by someone to whom I could belong.
What kept you alerted you and wondering
how I mistreated you were wrong;
I wake up each morning after morning
with a dreadful feeling that deprives me of living.
What you thought was true were wrong,
I am saddened over someone to whom I could belong.
Split two razors and a line of coke
Exhale the dimes and swallow the smoke
Nine-twenty-one, eighty-six
Gamble my life like lottery picks
Cry tears of blood and see what your god does
Bringing future problems
To those who so desperately want to solve them
And to think that I could be all but immortal
Swap Sorrow and throw my sins through a portal
How did you make my list
The elements that have gotten me pissed
Tears no longer fall from my left eye
What more can I do, besides consume meth and die
“Curious to know why”
No one wants “Sweet” to reach the top
Better yet pull out the heat and beg them to stop
Now I’m more than desperate to leave such an ungodly world
Depressed as a toddler that’s oddly curled
The accusations you brought
The courtroom battles I’ve fought
I’ll never make it to heaven
For I could never forgive you
The only punishment
Is to lift you from hell and give you
I’ve taken this community to a level
In which the sunrise ain’t even elevated, Ever!
Just another angel with forehead extensions
Suspect is inching
Next to me, your platform is a pondering invention
Only faces with political smiles receive honorable mentions
Got a purple heart, for smirking in the dark
Jotting things down with my right hand
Seems you got to fight to stand
And I’m back from the edge of town
Carrying a bloody sledge, my heavily hearted frown
I fear I'm losing patience in the midst of your neglect,
It keeps hounding me like stations of the cross ...
And a cardiac ablation holds more pleasure, I suspect,
Though the very same dear organ feels the loss.
Six decades have now passed without a sign of amity,
All your focus on my failures and mistakes ...
For eyes like yours are monochrome, incapable to see
What a lifelong search for purpose sometimes takes.
For you success is money, it's how your life is skewed,
But I'll never see this spinning world the same ...
For me there is a balance, heeding all that is imbued,
With much that can't be seen or given name.
I hoped that in our later years we might yet reconcile,
And find a peaceful shore where we'd connect ...
But you now specialize in squeezing grimaces from smiles,
Thus, our waters churn with mutual disrespect.
Oh, I will always love you, as you tried your best to be
A provider who could work and scold and boast ...
But most kids want a daddy who can care and touch and see
That love is what their children need the most ...
And when it's come to such ... you've been a ghost.
* Dementia pulls a number of extraordinary things from everyone, including the patient, and you discover some rather odd emotions throughout the process, one of which can be caring for someone who has never cared for YOU ... love becomes very basic, and keeps all in the proper perspective. *
Rainbow colored camouflage
I wonder if it would be see through?
Say it were such case, my
goodness, gracious . . .
My personal fave...
I'm partial toward indigo.
Yellow
Now that's a light colored little
fellow.
"Dude I think saw a woman's nipple. Worse yet, it's an untimely time too..."
I must admit, but I had myself
watching the clock.
No worries homie, I'm fitting to do the exact same thing you about to be doing.
Watching the clock?"
Oh all hell no...you be trippin' foo. Matter of fact the clock
watches me.
"How could you possibly suspect an inanition, like a clock, for instance—
personally am soon to become a clock—
To be watching . . .
Indigo
Yellow
Rainbow colored camouflage.
2/20/17