#detective
In the dream, the river ran uphill,
carrying houses like driftwood
toward a sky the colour of bruised glass.
I traced its course in ink,
my pen snagging where the current turned.
By morning, the lines had settled into streets I knew –
and the name of the man who drowned there
rose like a landmark I’d forgotten I’d visited.
Each new commission arrived folded like a secret,
ink feathering into shapes I half remembered:
a bridge bent into a question,
a forest where every tree hummed a different note.
I pinned them to the wall
and watched the dream stitch itself together—
until a childhood back lane
opened between two impossible mountains.
The final map arrived at dawn,
its creases like the palm of a hand
I’d once held.
The questioning bridge, the clock without hands,
the river running uphill – all converged
on a vacant lot two streets from my door.
At dusk I stood in air
heavy with rain that hadn’t yet fallen
and saw the outline of a house that no longer stood.
In my mind, the rooms were lit,
and someone I had lost long ago
waited at the window,
as if I’d only stepped out for rain.
Mar 13
Mar 13, 2026 at 11:01 AM UTC
Riddle in Rhymes,
During Corona Times
By Toxic Detective for Indian Society of Toxicology (IST)
Vomiting is nature's protective reflex against ingested toxins with my bitter alkaloids, accidental by innocent kids,
Bitter is Killer 💀, As a thumb's #rule, in medical science; but most of life saving medications are also bitter 👅, instead;
Vomiting after ingesting me, protects you medically as well as legally, in court of law leads;
Prehistoric #judicial systems determined guilt or innocence in a legal #trial, for human misdeeds;
By subjecting the accused to a dangerous experience, traditionally known as “trial by #ordeal” misusing my seeds;
Whether one survived such an ordeal poison of mine,
was left to control of divine,
to be freed;
and escape or survival was taken to indicate innocence on behalf of the defendant, instead;
The roots of this custom lie in the Code of #Hammurabi and the Code of Ur-Nammu, the oldest known systems of law, reads;
Numerous West African tribes from #Calabar, depended on my toxic bean in jurisprudence, in needs;
Also renowned as ordeal poison or #lie-detector bean, for rulings in their early courts, impledes;
Tribal #Nigerians, misused toxic action of my beans to detect witches & people possessed by evil spirits, who concedes;
#Judicators, would feed numerous seeds, what they called “ordeal poison,” to the accused; if he or she was innocent, indeed;
Hypothetically, God would perform a miracle and allow the accused to live—and the court would have its ruling, proceeds;
If the reverse was true, of course, guilt would be “proven” the moment its sentence was successfully carried out, in recede;
I am a climbing leguminous plant in forests, can be poisonous to humans when chewed, as beads;
I am a large, herbaceous perennial vine, with a woody stem at the base, as natural weeds;
I produces a large, purplish flower with intricate visible veins; attracting innocent Kids;
My flowers yield a thick brown pod of a fruit, contains 2-3 kidney-shaped seeds;
it’s not until rainy season (June through September) that my fatal plant Breeds;
In monsoons, my fruits, capable to produce its best, most toxic beans; indeed;
I am named botanically by appearance of my fruit “a snooping beak-like solid appendage” physo- means “bladder,” at the end of the stigma Beaked;
My toxin is reversible cholinesterase inhibitor, which acts on the autonomic nervous system, leads;
My poison disrupts communication between the nerves and organs of victims, it needs;
In this regard, I acts similarly to nerve gas, which results in contraction of the pupils, recedes;
Profuse salivation, convulsions, seizures, spontaneous urination and defecation, exceeds
Loss of control over the respiratory system, and ultimately death by asphyxiation, as due to secretions, airway blocks & impedes;
Antidote to my poisoning is the slightly less toxic tropane alkaloid atropine, which may often succeeds;
Though myself toxic, my alkaloid proves an effective antidote for poisoning from another deadly plant, Atropa Belladonna seeds;
Guess my name, causing Vomiting, as Lie detector for your means: when an Ordeal poison, impleads;
Apr 20, 2020
Apr 20, 2020 at 10:46 AM UTC
"I love you",
I wish to send,
Blowing my cover
And my missions.
"Is it worth it?",
You make me ask,
To leave it all behind,
And run to you.
"Reply anything!",
Yes, I've read.
You know I do, always,
Yet I hold myself back.
"Trust me, I'll return",
I almost sent, but,
Reality suddenly struck
Where promises fail.
"Bye", a last text,
Before the bullet
Kissed my heart,
Soothed my senses;
"Thank you darling",
I thought, unspoken,
As her face flashed
For one last time.
Jun 17, 2019
Jun 17, 2019 at 4:58 PM UTC
What tends to happen with many a poem is
You hop in, then land up somewhere else
Like driving to Texas and landing in Maine Or
Going to India but ending up in the Caribbean
And it’s not nonsensical
Certainly not,
The poet is very much as sane as
You or me
But rather,
That walking or jogging at a
Steady pace as you’d do in a novel
Or essay or racing through a
Movie The poet instead likes to hop and skip and
Jump and race and dance and
Twirl and roll and fly
So much so that those whose minds would rather
Stick to a steady pace
Are absolutely tied up in knots
In this case,
One of two things may occur
Some may scratch their heads and give up, deeming poetry “not their thing”
While others,
May read the poem in bits,
At their own pace,
Maintaining a slow and steady while acknowledging and appreciating and analyzing the hops and leaps and twirls-
They are like detectives,
Tracing the possible routes through which the poet may have traversed
Coming up with theories,
And although a theory may or may not be accurate...
We don’t know how humans evolved
But we appreciate it all the same
May 9, 2019
May 9, 2019 at 11:37 PM UTC
Sadness needs no invitation
no open house
or big party
sadness shows up on your doorstep
whenever it chooses
4am on a snowy night
or 3pm on a sunny day
It has no reason or rhyme sometimes
It just seeks you out
and decides to crash on your couch
an unwelcome guest, sadness is
often overstaying any welcome given
You can move homes
You can run away
but sadness is quite the detective
even in the best hiding spots
it will eventually seek you out
and invite itself back into your life
Oct 11, 2018
Oct 11, 2018 at 11:50 AM UTC
Fingerprints and fibers,
Accumulated talk,
Whispers in the corners,
Bodies demarcated in chalk
On the marble courtroom stairs.
His misery became a pall.
With mourning signs in splattered pairs,
Red flowers on the wall.
All that he had left behind was grief
And powerless rage,
A Tansu chest in high relief,
A coiled brass clock fatigued with age.
Retreating to a white house in Simrishamn,
He’d walk his dog along the shore,
Find sterile clues amongst the sands,
And travel a ferry between two lands.
And now: An experiment! Blame Google Translate for this weird (?) Swedish translation: Please tell me if this is a bad translation!
Fingeravtryck och fibrer,
Ackumulerat samtal,
Viskar i hörnen,
Kroppar avgränsad i krita
På marmor rättssal trappor.
Hans elände blev en pall.
Med sorgsignaler i splatterade par,
Röda blommor på väggen.
Allt som han hade lämnat var sorg
Och maktlös raseri,
En Tansu bröst i hög lättnad,
En spolad mässingsklocka utmanad med åldern.
Att återvända till ett vitt hus i Simrishamn,
Han skulle gå sin hund längs stranden,
Hitta sterila ledtrådar bland sandarna,
Aug 27, 2018
Aug 27, 2018 at 12:24 PM UTC
In the solitude of London trying to forget the past
The chaotic mess of my life played out at last
A forgotten trench coat steps out the shadows
Towards a romance of glorious tomorrows
Standing tall by the lamppost at twilight
Cigerette in hand, collar turned up tight
The pale moon shines down onto the street
And lights a faint mist around your feet
He pulls back his hat by its brim
Grey eyes beckon me over to him
He takes me in the folds of his coat
I swoon as my heart starts to float
Jun 27, 2018
Jun 27, 2018 at 9:34 AM UTC
5 0 0 pieces or more
spill over six accounts
5 0 0 holes for fingers
opened over my skin
so when will i learn
to use my feet to seek?
so when will i learn
the blood i squeeze
will in time run dry?
the gills that i cut
will swallow the knife?
no time better than now
no time like the present
to remember to breathe
remember to walk toward
not away
a comet on legs leaving
trails of meteorites
no time better than now
the ropes of the past lace
through the toes to the wrists
how long has it taken?
how lucky am i that i
filled the flesh canvas
with angry scars and
still have the knife?
5 0 0 pieces or more
spill over six accounts
5 0 0 holes for fingers
opened over my skin
the detective is done
with the cold case blues
the detective is done
penning I 2 U s
there are enough mountains today
tomorrow and on for the detective
to be insane as long as they want
the detective is done
with the cold case blues
so case closed
Nov 15, 2017
Nov 15, 2017 at 12:37 PM UTC
A little bit of ***
In a canvas bag
And a wallet full of notes
And a piece of rag
A tooth brush and comb
And a letter pack
And a bit of paper
With a number on the back
And a crisp old sheet
From a writing pad
Is a folded memory
And a poem so sad
Yet with joy in the lines
That live on still
While the love they were for
Will no longer thrill
For the cause is lost
Like the canvas bag
Left by the seat
With no name tag
How can I find
That fleeting two?
They won't be in Oxford
They were passing through
I met them in London
By the cold roadside
They wanted a lift
So I gave them a ride
They'll pass on
Down Exeter way
The cost of that lift
Was dear to pay
For now I am left
With a canvas bag
With a leather flap
For a naming tag
All covered with names
That student wrote
So when standing so cold
At a glance he'd note
The words of his subject
Written thereon
And his mind would warm
As he pondered on
The lecture from where
The thought first came
And the hour of the day
When he wrote the name
Nameless he was
And his lady too
Till the old bag
Was sifted through
Then a card
Came to light
With a name upon it
Plain to sight
And I remember
The college hall
Goldsmith's was
The name let fall
So to the English
Scholar then
I may return
The bag again
With a little bit of ***
And a sad love poem
I'll return them all
To their former home.
May 11, 2017
May 11, 2017 at 4:30 PM UTC
dear chemistry,
you are a detective
you hold scientists
in an enchantment
of protons and neutrons
you dissect me
identifying the components
that allow me to waltz
across light and holy ground
while you are bound
to seek solace
in what my atoms
cannot give you
i cannot give you motion
or allow you speed past me
that is my task
my task is to entrance
philosophers in the "whys"
and "hows" of my force and energy
and i'm sorry that
you are bound to be prose
when you seek to be poetry
i'm sorry that if you were a musician
you'd have all the words
and i'd be the melody
we'd be the song
that could never meet
i'll meet you in between the horizons
when my masters
speak to yours
pondering on what allows
the why to occur and
how does the event happen
i'll meet you in between
question marks and white coats
i'll meet you in the next life
when maybe the future
will allow us to be trees
instead of branches
my arms will spread
to reach out to your matter
past the artifices
and your atoms will
race towards me
all force, energy and velocity
and i will ask the "whats" and "hows"
and maybe you will answer the why
and maybe the answer
will be a discovery
a phenomena of sentences
all questions already answered
always yours, physics
Mar 18, 2016
Mar 18, 2016 at 8:12 AM UTC
Years had past since PTD's cases, all was now
Play and fun. But the little man missed
The chase of what could be found
Mysteries,
Riddles,
Enigmas
Of what was hidden from view. He was
A bright young fellow now
Six years old.
Words are longer as gurgles faded into
Memories past thoughts. He had come
Home to mummy,
"How's my little man,
"I have a loose toothy peg Mummy,
"Well no playing,
"As we don't want it lost for the tooth fairy,
So little man played with his cars
"Brummmm,
Brrruuumm,
Screecchhhh,
"That was close the baddies nearly caught us,
He played till it started to get dark, then heard
His mummy calling from down stairs.
"Little man time to get ready for bed sweet heart,
"Ok mummy I'm changing now,
A jumper did fly socks also too,
Trousers flew in the air landing waist
Side up on his head too.
Jester
Clown
Fun
Times of an imagination as he runs around.
But in to jimjams he must now do,
his favourite ones were
Captain Carrot Space Ranger.
He has all the books reading them to sleep
His favourite story before he slumbers in to dreams.
~Captain Carrots Space Race~
*Trix sat in his comfy seat, his friends
All waiting for his words of as the race was
Set in the dust nebula* Atria
*Its dark in space only stars glitter.
But in the dust cloud it was like rainbows blossomed
A light show of the universal beauty.*
Right my fluffiest friends its time to launch.
3
2
1
*Rockets ignited and away they went,
Captain Trix was nibbling on a cucumber stick.
Then from no where the naughty* Cat Captain Frost
*Bashed and knocked at their ship, and off the
Race course they fell. They tumbled into a pocket of*
Darkest space. Captain its dark *in here, the lights
Faded and all was dark.* Trix could hear teeth chattering.
*Be calm my friends, there is nothing scary in the shadows.
Take out your carrot coins, and nibble, chew,
And with that, once finger licked and all was chomped
All that was heard was trix voice, right can we all
See? yes captain carrot vison is a go.*
*They set a course out of this darkest place and
Out they popped into normal space, colours gleamed
As they saw they were in last place.
Rockets burst into action and they flew in
And out, weaving through the clouds
One pasted, two pasted, three pasted
Now they were in second place.*
Who should be in first place naughty Captain Frost
*He had a coat as white as snow. but that was
As far as his niceness did go. He was a naughty
Kitty and everyone did know.
Sir he is blocking our path, we cant get through
Ok secret decoy time fluffy friends.*
3
2
1
*Cats attention set adrift sir, and into space it wondered,
In sight of Captain Frosts view. Out came the holding
Claws, and the space wool did bobble and excitement
Was the pleasure of kitties day. While they entertained
Themselves, Captain Trix did glide on past.
Full speed ahead as they race past the finish line.*
Yawns were the calling of the night as the story
Ended as eyes blinked soon to be shut
"Mummy Captain Carrot [Trix] won the race,
"Yes he did darling and that's why meanies are always last,
"Sweet dreams my baby now off to sleep,
The night drew on as eyes slept through, and little
Mans dreams were of carrots and rabbits
That whizzed through the night sky, ZOOM.
Morning broke through his curtains and
Yawns did come and go. Slippers were
On as cold it felt, and downstairs
He wondered dressing gown and all.
"Mummy what's for breakfast?
"Was that me Mummy?
"Open wide little man, goodness me....,
"There is a gap where there should be a tooth?
"O' no I have a missing toothy peg,
***** trained detective is on the case,*
"I think I may need a new name?
"Junior Trained Detective,
"No that's not right does ring true?
"Buddy The Trained Detective.
"That's the nickname you gave me mummy,
"That's excellent little man, I love your choice,
His mummy smiles and gives him a hug and
Kisses his forehead, they search under his pillow
"Nope? Mmmm... may have to get out the cap
And magnifying glass -o
"Mummy this is too small for me?
"Don't worry little man I thought this day may come,
Out of a box she pulls his new hat out, he tries it
On, perfectly it fits on his head and his detective
Days have started again. Fist my bedroom under
The pillow I will seek my tooth be it here or there.
But pillow case removed quilt removed o' so slowly
For a tooth we don't want to lose it, but nothing appeared.
"One place now searched with a keen eye,
"Now so many other places for it to hide,
He thought of where a tooth would place hide and
Seek from its home in the mouth, under the
Bed he thought.Torch in hand he wiggled under
The wooden from and what we he see but his
Car that vanished quite a while ago, I wondered
Where that went? a sweet, a pen, a coin for the piggybank.
"Mummy its not under or over the bed,
"I looked hard, but no where can it be found,
Little man was frustrated at the thought that the
Tooth fairy would not be rewarded with a tooth.
Right let me think? he thought of that night, it
Was their in bed, when story time was read.
It was their when mummy give him a kiss goodnight.
In the morning it was gone
"Captain Carrot,
"Trix where are you,
This is no time for hide and seek,
He found him tucked in his quilt, sleeping soundly.
"There you are sorry to wake you,
He looked in his hair "Nope not there,
Looked in his tail it was white and fluffy
"Nope not there,
He thought once again? if he were
Captain Carrot where would he keep his
Best friends tooth safe if it feel out in dreamy sleep.
A smile etched across Buddies face at the thought of
Where he would keep it safe for him.
In his little fingers did search around, and then
A little white rock, no a tooth was found.
Captain Trix had kept it safe in his uniform pocket.
"Mummy, mummy,
"The case Is solved I found my tooth,
"Detective work solves a puzzling case again,
"Where was it my little man?
"Captain Carrot had it snuggly warm in his space rucksack,
"That's fantastic,
"Now where does a tooth now found go,
She smiles rubbing his hair, off to his bedroom
He runs tooth proudly in hand.
Lifting his pillow he gently places it with pride
In the place where the tooth fairy could easily
Reach and find. Leaving a special present for this
Little boy who had found his missing toothy peg.
"I think I may keep this cap,
"Let Buddy the trained detective solve cases again soon,
Feb 11, 2016
Feb 11, 2016 at 9:40 AM UTC
Don't lie to me.
No-no don't start with me.
I know what you did.
Denial, denial.
Oh,
you're getting tired
of this?
I'm sorry,
let me get you a coffee
cause we're just beginning.
It's not your fault?
How could I not believe you
and think you are lying
with those patiently-worn
innocent eyes and enchanting
words?
Not.
I can see it
clearly the panic
dilating pupils.
Scared now?
Yeah,
your massive pupils are
giving it all away.
You're clearly guilty.
Now fess up.
Make this easier on the both of us.
I don't wanna stand here
all day and have to berate you
when we both know you're just
gonna cave and admit to it.
You're the culprit.
What? You're saying that's a baseless accusation?
Ha! Tell that to the two way mirror!
They can see
your arms stretched out,
palms facing up
on the table like an image of Christ
pleading mercy.
Ha!
More like Mary Magdalene
begging for forgiveness
for her sins.
Classic pose,
pretending to be naïve.
Don't let those
deep
brown
eyes
swell,
those tears won't work on me.
I know
what you've done!
I saw
you do it!
I have
the proof!
What? You're demanding to see it?
Fine!
I'll take you
to the crime scene
but you're not to touch anything.
Cold steel cuffs oughtta keep you right.
Come with me,
keep up by my side.
Look at this mess!
How can you even want to see this, you psychopath?
Proud of your work, Huh?
There- on that wall- you can see
where it started.
The back of this man's head, looks like somehow
it was blown open from the back of his skull,
probably,
that's when his amygdala took the hit
and ended up in some mental odyssey
and just let you have your godforsaken way
with his disabled mind.
But then you had to keep going, didn't you?
You dragged him,
look at the bruises on shoulder blades, big and wide,
obviously had to wrap your arms around him,
squeezing his dead body.
You couldn't move someone
bigger than you so you used everything in you
and brought him to his knees
right
at this permanently stained couch.
This whole thing is ridden with evidence.
Oh, and now you say:
you didn't mean to?
This scene too graphic for you?
Maybe you should take a close look at how
you and his fingers are both broken!
What kind of altercation was that?
He already looked dead by then and you-
you held him laced to you after all
that damage?
The poor man was ******
from the moment his curious eyes saw
your sweetness.
And, after all that,
you had the audacity
to bruise his neck?
Was that your intention to **** him,
make sure he died?
Or just torture him
till he begged
for sweet release,
sadist.
You must have given him just that
judging by how his skull is split
and not even in two,
but a complete desecration.
I mean look at the clear
weaving of neurons from hemisphere to hemisphere!
The thoughts
that he could musta had could only be
beyond manic
after this tryst.
I guess at that point
you felt bad enough for
the charmed fellow
you decided that was it,
to finish with him.
**** I don't know how you even did this.
Rib cage broke and bones sticking straight out of his chest
and his heart gone?
You seem like those
succubus, straight from mythology.
The ones that seem
all innocent then eat the heart of a man.
I bet that's what you did.
I've heard on National Geographic that there were
people who believed
you could take a person's soul
and have it become part of you.
But to literally do such a thing?
Ugh, just
look.
Those cherubic eyes,
they're showing nothing
but contentment.
You're absolutely insane
for the satisfaction you have.
You need not say anything more.
Now, you have to live with yourself and your delusional beliefs.
At least,
in some twisted way,
that poor child will forever live on, even if it is for an eternity
captivated by you.
Apr 30, 2015
Apr 30, 2015 at 1:31 PM UTC
In the end I know
This relationship cannot be mended by words alone
Tongues turn into deadly daggers
Piercing our skin
Leaving wounds yet to heal
no words would appeal
Words would not suffice
A relationship as cold as ice
Never have I thought it would come to this
I would plead, plead that please
Let's just stop it
All of this is just for naught
But let us never forget the lesson it taught
" Words are like swords. If you use them the wrong way, they’ll turn into ugly weapons. There are cases of broken friendship that could have lasted a lifetime if not for verbal abuse. Once you sever your ties, you might not see each other again."
Apr 14, 2015
Apr 14, 2015 at 11:08 AM UTC
Another morning in the life
Of a P.T.D, I slurped my
Juice back all 400 ml, then
Stretched up, fingers
Wiggling as mother picked
Me up.
Snuggles in the morning
Nothing better, to show I'm
Loved. But back to business,
As I turned my dummy to
The opposite side, the taste
Is better every time its turned
Soothing with each ****
It was nearly breakfast time
A belly is never wrong,
MMmmm...
Toast and jam, I smile
At mummy with my
Cheshire Jam smiled face.
"Silly little man"
As she wipes the smudges
From all over my face.
A case to solve, was my plan,
The missing statue of
SANDMAN BOB tm.
It was here before, but now
Gone, the prized possession
Of hairy dog, as I pat his head
And he licks my face
Yuckkkk....
Doggy that was yuck, he wags
His tail and then he is off.
What a morning so much done,
Time for a nap then detective
Work to be done. I wake to
Dads voice,
"Morning little man"
"How was your nap"
As i give my answer with a
Yawn and a smile, he gives
A cuddle then off to work for
Hours of fun and playing games.
The clues to be seen the trail
To be found, for I'm
***** Trained Detective"*
And no case is to far, as
Long as I can have a nap
And a cuddle, maybe a
Little sip and a gulp, here
On look out of what is to
Be found.
Hairy dog is sleeping in his
bed, I hear a noise I hear a
Sound??
What a strange noise,
"Snoring"
"NO"
"Bottom belches"
"No funny smells"
As I lift up his blanky
Softly so not to wake doggy's sleep,
And their he is safe and sound.
"SANDMAN BOB"
"Playing hide and go seek"
Under hairy dogs nose and bottom,
As he sleeps it does squeak, it
Does beep, I lift it up and under
His paw, to surprise him when
He awakens. A tail shall wiggle
And flop around, but the case was
Solved and a happy smile found.
***** Trained Detective* does it
Again, but for now it is nap time,
A new case, a new thing to be
Found. I will see you all again
Soon, But now its snuggles
Time with mummy in bed.
As I close my eyes night, night
I turn my dummy once more,
As sheep float quietly over my head.
Mar 9, 2015
Mar 9, 2015 at 10:26 PM UTC
From the dusty mesa her looming shadow grows
Hidden in the branches of the poison creosote.
She twines her spines up slowly towards the boiling sun,
And when I touched her skin, my fingers ran with blood.
Sep 6, 2014
Sep 6, 2014 at 7:39 AM UTC
I've been paying attention more to the airwaves of ether we weave
And also the air around town or wherever else
I feel somewhat inclined to sit in a half crossed and dead legged pose
Clicking the keys of letters in hackneyed prose
You notice a noise and you look up to see
You hear the voice that you wanted to be
Calling for you from the opposite wall of the room
That smiles and laughs despite those people who
Scout out the cues like Jr. Detectives
May 10, 2014
May 10, 2014 at 3:12 PM UTC
I'm gonna see
a brain
detective and
hopefully
fit into my
underwear
again
Apr 19, 2014
Apr 19, 2014 at 9:25 PM UTC