"alibi" poems
I Say "Hi"
A Beautiful Stranger
She Keeps Walking
We Pass By
I'm Just Looking
Corner Of My eye
Foxy Little Lady
She Is Sly
Lips Stay Sealed
They're My Alibi
Felt Your Eye
Gave A Reply
You Said "Hi"
Not Being Shy
I'm With Her
That's Your Guy
Our Little Secret
Eyes Don't Lie
My Beautiful Stranger
Walk On: Bye.
May 3, 2014
May 3, 2014 at 2:32 AM UTC
Mesmerised by an ocean dream,
Eternal life, alone and free.
Rolling waves, sea pure and clear,
Maybe I've found shelter from the storm.
A cave that glistens, a loving aura.
I no longer need my alibi,
Driven to the dream I've always dreamed,
Swimming with the mermaids of the open seas.
Apr 22, 2015
Apr 22, 2015 at 8:52 AM UTC
He smiled at me and said 'here, take this'
It was a happy little pill of his and it would feel bliss
I smiled and gave him a kiss saying, 'thank you baby'
But what happened next forever will drive me crazy
Next thing you know I was spinning in my head
Then he wanted to bring me to a bed
His friends walked in and wanted more
So they all called me a ***** little *****
My body was numb and I couldn’t move
I let out a scream but they didn’t approve
Everything went black but then again I woke
But to them it was nothing but a funny little joke
They locked me inside of a walk in closet
So if there was a stir I sure wouldn’t cause it
I blacked out again and woke in a different place
Treating me as if my soul were missing and my body were a case
Still I was unable to move nor speak
But he still said he loved me and kissed me on the cheek
I counted five inhumane beings on top of me moaning
One was even playfully groaning
I was disgusted and wanted it to end
But I knew that after this my mind would never mend
By now it would have been a little past three in the morning
Earlier I should have taken that adorable face as a warning
When they realized I was sobering up
They had an alibi saying they’d call this a hookup
When I could finally move my mouth again
I realized what had happened and felt heavy chest pain
They heard that I was muttering words that were incomprehensible
They saw me as nothing more than a body and that I was dispensable
They came up with a plan to hide my body in a ditch
I even heard one say, 'she deserved it, what a stupid bitch'
I hit my head when they threw me on the ground
I only saw black in front of me and around
I woke up to a woman asking if I were okay
I only said one phrase and it was that 'I was betrayed'
What happened after that is irrelevant at best
All I will say is that I was nothing but stressed
This is my story and it happened two years ago today
Nailing an image in my mind that I was a targeted prey
I know now that I hold so much more worth
And I love myself more than anything on this Earth
Just know that these words have come straight from my heart
No matter how vile and disgusting this memory is, I can never restart
So I tried to make it a poem so it seems like some kind of art.
h.m.w
Sep 28, 2017
Sep 28, 2017 at 5:57 PM UTC
i am so ugly, why am i ugly
i am not happening, what is happening,
still so ugly, i am trash
so minnesota, i am abstract
forget my alibi, i am so ugly
**** what im worth, i have these maggots
inside me living, morbidly filthy
deserve to live me, i am so filthy
no one has done me,
no one i am
i have these maggots, here to preserve me
i am not me, i am these maggots,
they represent me, deserve to live in me,
i am so filthy, plz just **** me
forget the feeling, i have no feeling
simple being, i am so ugly,
i feel so ugly, feeling like stealing,
i am stealing, breathless feeling
senseless beating, set fire to me
i am so ugly, so ******* filthy.
Feb 25, 2017
Feb 25, 2017 at 3:21 PM UTC
******* sawdust
Whiskey and rust
This is the life
This is cloud nine
This used to be a simple alibi
But now it's just a damaged lullaby
It's hard to kiss
Skin that crawls
But in the dark
The weakness falls
Unasked questions
They do rebound
Silent screaming
Rings all around
This used to be a simple alibi
But now it's just a damaged lullaby
Tattoos, perfume
Gasoline fumes
Nursing this poison
cringing, no end
Dysfunctional love
is what we make
just one more hit
It'll be the last I take
This is the life
This is cloud nine
Jan 6, 2015
Jan 6, 2015 at 11:54 PM UTC
1298
The Mushroom is the Elf of Plants—
At Evening, it is not—
At Morning, in a Truffled Hut
It stop upon a Spot
As if it tarried always
And yet its whole Career
Is shorter than a Snake’s Delay
And fleeter than a Tare—
’Tis Vegetation’s Juggler—
The Germ of Alibi—
Doth like a Bubble antedate
And like a Bubble, hie—
I feel as if the Grass was pleased
To have it intermit—
This surreptitious scion
Of Summer’s circumspect.
Had Nature any supple Face
Or could she one contemn—
Had Nature an Apostate—
That Mushroom—it is Him!
7.5k
Someday I'd like to wander free
like butterfly, like bumblebee,
perhaps to plant a willow tree
beside the silent solemn sea,
before these things exist no more,
from mountain top to shifting shore,
when, soon, bald eagles cease to soar
and build their aeries nevermore,
and fish forsake polluted streams
(where sulfur swims and typhoid teems
since no one really cares it seems)
to die inside our toxic dreams
while ice caps melt and winter steams,
and all the air surrounding reeks
as children choke, for no one speaks
of fracking wells or oily leaks
(Big Brother's silenced all critiques!),
and rancid rains acidify
so woods no longer multiply
(for God so wills, we can't deny,
which is, of course, our alibi).
And as the deepest ocean fills
with plastic bags, and garbage spills
upon the plains, across the hills
and turns to poison dust that kills
wild dingo dogs and daffodils
which sink in swamps’ forsaken swills,
the mocking bird makes light and trills
(midst waning wails of whippoorwills)
"Behold the surreal scene that chills
and greet the dread that death distills!
You've had your day with all the frills
that brought the flood and final ills
that can't be cured with bitter pills
nor yet undone with further thrills
of profit gained that grinds and fills
dead desert sands with dollar bills."
EPILOGUE
Though swaddled still in infancy,
we feel we’ve reached our primacy
(aloof, though preaching piously,
disdaining deeds of decency)
and have no need of augury.
But in the pit of prophecy
the crucial questions seem to be:
“Is doom Earth’s fate, our destiny
to twist in tides of agony
destroying nature’s progeny
with no return a certainty
assured by death’s finality?”
and
”Should we plant a willow tree
to someday weep for you and me?”
Jun 16, 2015
Jun 16, 2015 at 2:45 PM UTC
Like a clockwork's rhyme
they grow on him,
the soft moan of her heels.
Here she comes, they tell him
as they gently pry loose
of her tender feet.
A quiver is set into motion
like strings of a cello
consumed by touch
every time her voice breaks free
like a fugitive
from its own abode.
The visiting breeze crosses by
the slow hum
of her breathing,
and carries the gasps
in hurried echoes
to remind him she's checked in.
A mischief rolled into smile
escapes her lips
to touch a heart so shy,
only to leave it
and **** with pain
while making it a willing alibi.
Aug 22, 2018
Aug 22, 2018 at 9:39 AM UTC
What you could not tell me;
as distinct as a infant's cry,
was why?
Had the torture within you
rattled the bars and forced
you to plead sweet ignorance?
Would you have understood
an alibi, had I delivered it
to you in homonyms?
Were we a pair, had we pared?
Or did one of us bite too harshly
on the pear?
Or would you continue with
me, the way you knew how...
artfully coy, and full of deception?
and then, I realized
I knew... had always known
and therein is the rub
that has left me bare, a bear,
a grizzly discovery.
Mar 3, 2011
Mar 3, 2011 at 9:43 AM UTC
i lie facedown on the train tracks.
the gravel presses symbols into my skin,
but none of them translate.
home is a concept with too many rooms.
i sharpened my alibi
on my mother’s brittle bones
until it fit into a quieter mouth.
she didn't flinch.
the sun unthreads me one fiber at a time.
nothing resists.
blink
blink
blink
each time, the world returns
slightly rearranged—
trees on the ceiling,
windows in my stomach.
i found a way out,
but it only leads back here.
the platform loops
in the shape of an open jaw.
i circled it three times,
then laid down between its metal teeth—
the world doesn’t bite anymore.
it just holds me.
small, warm,
still breathing.
regret nests in the hinge of my jaw.
i keep it clenched, and
it doesn’t protest.
it flicks the lights off
when the rail begins to sing.
it knows the schedule better than i do.
the daylight plucks at my ribs like harp strings.
each note sounds like a name i was never meant to hold.
i buried the moon weeks ago.
she made it difficult to leave.
if you’re still listening—
the train is already halfway through me.
today,
i let the mouth stay open.
maybe the scream will crawl back in.
maybe it never left.
Mar 1, 2018
Mar 1, 2018 at 11:42 PM UTC
I stand there and smile and check them in
I answer all of their stupid questions with a pleasant grin
8 hours of this then I'll be free
None of these people care how they treat me
Their snotty and rude and make a mess
I've never behaved this way while being a hotel guest
They turn up their nose's and spend money all week
Then when it comes to the bill they want to be cheap
A discount here a discount there
And when I say, "No", they grit their teeth and stare
They yell loud and scream like I will bend or cry
Thanks to the survellience camera I have an alibi
In my head I start to wonder
"Isn't this the guest that asked for a plunger?"
"He's complained about the food and our lovely staff."
"He's dissing our lamps and even our town maps."
"Then he comes to the front desk to fuss and cuss."
"He's pointing his fingers and having a fit."
"Yuk! He's talking so fast his mouth is collecting spit."
I decided that was it I had enough
Working in the service industry is tough
But all I could do was stand there and smile
And this is what played in my head all the while
When people start to scream and shout
This is what I do to tune them out...............
This is a test of the Emergency **** Off System.
This is only a test
insert sound here
Sep 16, 2012
Sep 16, 2012 at 10:45 PM UTC
Do you want to know
how I knew?
It's in the way
that you say her name -
like a criminal
caught red-handed,
yet forcing an alibi.
Aug 18, 2014
Aug 18, 2014 at 6:44 AM UTC
We both know it's over,
Though we haven't spoken a word.
And I hear your sleeve rustle
As you run your fingers through your golden hair,
Nervously. Impatiently.
You don't want to be here.
Our eyes meet;
They match the coffee sitting on my bedside from this morning.
Cold.
Bitter.
Unfinished.
My hands rest in my lap, clasped together;
As if to pray to some obscure divinity
That can't hear me.
Gaze fixed on chipped, red nails,
Trying not to bite my tongue.
You knew it was wrong;
You knew it would come to this.
You knew all along.
Didn't you?
Jaw clenched,
You stare out a window,
Plotting your escape.
I try to remember the good times,
But they all seem so out of context now.
Your smile seems so crooked now,
Your eyes seem cold and distant now.
Your charm,
But free deceit disguised as cheap love,
A poor alibi for worse decisions.
You don't love,
You lust.
Because that's all you've ever known in this world,
That's all you ever learned from your sick father figures:
I want.
I need.
I have.
Human connection,
A waste of time.
Love and affection,
No worth to speak of.
So, tell me.
Was she worth it?
"I love her," You say quietly.
"I know," I reply.
Nov 25, 2013
Nov 25, 2013 at 4:47 AM UTC
1367
“Tomorrow”—whose location
The Wise deceives
Though its hallucination
Is last that leaves—
Tomorrow—thou Retriever
Of every tare—
Of Alibi art thou
Or ownest where?
3.3k
All I need to do
Is make it through the day
Breathe in all the good
And blow the bad away.
Words form blisters on my tongue
Burning out the taste of you
Sweet and secure with a touch
Of ****** up.
I don't say that to just anyone
You know you were the first
Man I ever loved
But you weren't the last I will ever
Touch.
I left you behind in the rubble
Of what used to be our life
Our lie
Our alibi.
With every day I see clearly
The truth of what I've done
Who knew such consequence
Could be born of love and indecision.
Cloudy head and cloudy mind
Always afraid of things behind
The past never stays where it should
And I'd burn it all down if I could.
The last puff is always the worst
It's hard to swallow when my throat is
Clogged with lies
I forgot to tell you.
Jun 23, 2014
Jun 23, 2014 at 11:27 PM UTC
Once I seen a human ruin
In a elevator-well.
And his members was bestrewin'
All the place where he had fell.
And I says, apostrophisin'
That uncommon woful wreck:
"Your position's so surprisin'
That I tremble for your neck!"
Then that ruin, smilin' sadly
And impressive, up and spoke:
"Well, I wouldn't tremble badly,
For it's been a fortnight broke."
Then, for further comprehension
Of his attitude, he begs
I will focus my attention
On his various arms and legs--
How they all are contumacious;
Where they each, respective, lie;
How one trotter proves ungracious,
T' other one an alibi.
These particulars is mentioned
For to show his dismal state,
Which I wasn't first intentioned
To specifical relate.
None is worser to be dreaded
That I ever have heard tell
Than the gent's who there was spreaded
In that elevator-well.
Now this tale is allegoric--
It is figurative all,
For the well is metaphoric
And the feller didn't fall.
I opine it isn't moral
For a writer-man to cheat,
And despise to wear a laurel
As was gotten by deceit.
For 'tis Politics intended
By the elevator, mind,
It will boost a person splendid
If his talent is the kind.
Col. Bryan had the talent
(For the busted man is him)
And it shot him up right gallant
Till his head began to swim.
Then the rope it broke above him
And he painful came to earth
Where there's nobody to love him
For his detrimented worth.
Though he's living' none would know him,
Or at leastwise not as such.
Moral of this woful poem:
Frequent oil your safety-clutch.Porfer Poog.
2.6k
Down in the ghetto, real
****** stand together
Me and my 2nd in charge had an
alibi that breezed us on through
Sued the NY Times and their racist news
for they had no clue about us
The judge winked us both off and
later was paid what he was due
Corrupt, corrupt judiciary
The reasons for this are mostly monetary
No questions ... it’s just customary
While the Judges, Lawyers, Popo’s, too
Lookin’ for a way to make a few extra dimes
They were askin’ ‘bout, tryin’ to cash in, all da time
What judge or man wouldn’t agree ‘bout raisin’
a little bread on da side
No questions ... it’s just customary
I then asked a judge, why doesn’t the NY Times
take a bribe, so they don’t need to report all da crimes
I listened with intrigue and right away I saw the signs
Then my eyes closed tighter, as I hear what he describes
Judiciary started callin’ and Popo’s started fallin’
Shhhush . . . it’s just customary
While the Judges, Lawyers, Popo’s, too
Lookin’ for a way to make a few extra dimes
They were askin’ ‘bout tryin’ to cash in, all da time
What judge or man wouldn’t agree ‘bout raisin’
a little bread on da side
No questions ... it’s just customary
Well the New York Times is owned by the Irish
and not by a wealthy enclave of Jews
I think I just made my very last mistake
He fired a pistol from under his robe
and shot me to da ground
And I heard him sayin’ “Never **** with da men in da gown”
Corrupt, corrupt judiciary
The reasons for this are mostly monetary
I’d asked to many questions ... it’s just customary
While the Judges, Lawyers, Popo’s, too
Lookin’ for a way to make a few extra dimes
They were askin’ ‘bout tryin’ to cash in, all da time
What judge or man wouldn’t agree ‘bout raisin’
a little bread on da side
No questions ... it’s just customary.
Mar 11, 2020
Mar 11, 2020 at 7:11 AM UTC
i.
The atlantian theorists, of the Masonic order,
Wanted a new world, ****** indigenous quarter's;
They came by their ship's, to conceal native truth's,
Only coming for a plunder, to giveth satanic rule.
ii.
The warrior-painted faces, naturally painted by ash and red,
Sawest their shores, being broken by it's door's; mad-men in
Shiny silver, hand's open, yet were fed. Sachem prophet's
Bellowed the harbinger's long afore, now all hast come, these
aborigines weren't dumb; they prophesied this long before.
iii.
The wigwams, longhouses, teepees and lodges, were uprooted from their sacred ground's, the creator's meek were ravaged; as giant bones were taken while found. As hidden beneath the surface, the haut monde made none sound; playing dumbed with Gun's, they ran their fun, fabricating lies, under the America's sun. As tis they gave the world alibi's to be one, O' what hath they done; O' what hath they done.
iv.
First the viking, with dragon ship thunder
came to conquer,pillage and plunder
taking lives without a thought
unwary of the cruelty they wrought.
v.
Then pilgrim's progress seeking new land
would have starved if not for the "savage" man
onward, westward, did they go
killing for profit, pleasure little did they know.
vi.
Grandfather, earth mother and spirit of wild
they watched as the white eye usurped the child
and still, no lesson has been learned
the people grew fat, their culture spurned.
vii.
Most of the tribes are gone away
and America has come to stay
but in my native heart i yearn
to see the Indian nation return.
©Brandon Nagley \Wolfspirit duo poem
©Lonesome poet's poetry
©Indigenous harbinger's revealed
Apr 30, 2016
Apr 30, 2016 at 8:38 PM UTC
Expression guarded
Hate hidden
Hands ******
Nails digging in
Heart made of stone
Breaking in two
Insides churning
Head hurting
Emotions wild
I'm an angered child
Tension crackles
Full on tackle
Curled in a ball
Why can't I stand tall?
It's stupid
I'm weak
Truth is a disgusting alibi
*Expression guarded.
Hate hidden.*
May 23, 2015
May 23, 2015 at 7:03 AM UTC
Listen to me? Please don't ! Why? She asks;
Behind the doorway
Is the hanging balance of Love.
I'll take you gently, a walk across the floor
Wrestle you lightly up against the door
Then simmer down, to the Downs upon a horse
**** me gently in the black side of your heart
Good God it's Monday! I wan't to die she cries
And falls out kicking on her -
Friendship needs a motive; sweet love
It's Alibi
Hey, **** me gently in the black side of your heart
Aug 22, 2013
Aug 22, 2013 at 6:03 PM UTC
By: Cedric McClester
You know he’s full of stuff
When the evidence ain’t enough
And he’s acting like a cream puff
By not calling Putin’s bluff
If I labeled him a scaredy-cat
Or better yet Putin’s new doormat
Would that raise the thermostat,
And flush out that Norway rat?
When the evidence is irrefutable
To the point that it’s not disputable
His response is always mutable
And comes out as most unsuitable
Then his mouthpiece attempts to frame
An alibi, but we’re hip to her game
She can’t absolve him of the blame
Though she tries to just the same
So you better believe and trust
That she looks ridiculous
When she’s being duplicitous
By trying to fool the rest of us
It’s a sin to stand there and lie
But she gives it a college try
Like the mistress of deny
As if the Ten Commandment don’t apply
They interfered with our election
With a clear cut interjection
Of cybernet deflection
Without protest or objection
Two days before his inauguration
He was told of the Russian’s participation
Much to his own consternation
Yet he still voices reservations
Cedric McClester, Copyright © 2018. All rights reserved.
Jul 19, 2018
Jul 19, 2018 at 1:15 PM UTC
Inspector Dork was not pleased with himself
he had interrogated everyone in the house
only to be knocked down by
impenetrable alibi
Spouse Susan slept soundly through the night
and was awakened in the morn
when the alarm bell rang in his room
Daughter Debby's room was a floor down
she was up with her studies
plugged to earphones
Son Simon was out for the night
he was at his friend's place
for a birthday party
Maid Maddie made his bed
when the clock in his master's room
was chiming ten
Butler Bill having served a glass of milk
closed the door behind him
and retired for the night.
Inspector Dork was about to leave the victim's room
when his eyes fell on the clock pendulum
it was not swinging
he knew who was lying.
Jan 10, 2016
Jan 10, 2016 at 8:06 AM UTC
Santa was a hit man and he had no alibi
His big red suit was drenched in blood, more vibrant than a dye
See, Mrs. Clause was KGB, and the North Pole was her base
And Santa was the corporate shell that really owned the place
The "elves" were political prisoners (and yes, some were rather short)
And the present-giving Christmas was the day Clause would report
But when the Union went away, there was no need for Clauses
And they ripped up the whole contract (not covered in Incidental Causes)
Mrs. Clause got into drinking, and it got worse everyday
'Till it happened: she was so drunk, she keeled over in the hay
They found her the next morning with a reindeer on her head
Santa knew before the med report that Mrs. Clause was dead
So he went back to the basics, and he hooked into Network 1
The most top secret channel where certain agents have their fun
He was lost without his partner (their marriage was arranged)
She had handled the business,his financial sense was left estranged
He knew without her, he'd go under; have to sell the Pole to the West
He needed to make the payments by doing just what he knew best
Santa filled the role of assassin, killing silently with grace
He laid a finger beside his nose before he shoved the gun up in your face
Making the hits look unconnected, well he varied up his style
In fact he was thinking of being a "serial killer" and followed that up for a little while
But his stealing milk and cookies didn't clue anybody in
Maybe it just wasn't plausible to blame the fat man and his grin
Whatever the case, he's a random killer who strikes with impunity
With a swish of his coat, he jumps roof to roof, flaunting his immunity
Nov 23, 2013
Nov 23, 2013 at 9:23 PM UTC
You never said it with your words
hugs weren’t what We came to do
you said "Mountain Girls don’t cry"
I held it in to make it true
Don't worry Daddy, I don't need em
I know "I love you's" just words
So many stories in your eyes
never needed a gift or an alibi
We always knew it through and through
the way my heart looked into you
funny really, the truth
to us “I love you” are just words
I knew it at my ballgame
when you appeared in the bleachers
made you proud to all my teachers
don’t worry Daddy, I don't need em
I know “they’re just words”
Was confused when my lovers wouldn’t say it.
Wen't for a long journey don't the path of "maybe I didn’t deserve it"
there and back again
Now I know the truth, I'm worth it
it all happened in the start
it’s me who thinks “they’re just words”
so it didn't bounce back reflected
Now we can have it all
It’s ok to say “I love you”
can be freeing if you want it to
paint a picture with the rainbow
let love guide you
Don't worry Daddy I'll never need it
and they'll never see me cry.
But watch me Daddy as I ride
the craziest bull of them all
having both Love, it's spoken word,
hugs and all.
Dec 2, 2020
Dec 2, 2020 at 7:29 PM UTC