"inquest" poems
Leg off the table
you red face recruit!
put on the offensive
and break down
the bolted door!
you are the soul saver
the peddle maker
the calibrator
with colored handbills
and front line
rhetoric
join the masquerade
in ivy league style!
politicking with
cunning guile
invisalign smile
blackened vile
bleeding the funnel
with gold plate omega
and crocodile shoes
get on stage
and dance you fool!
you are the headline maker
the pantomime juggler
the compromised closer
pull out that 5 page review
(bullet points only please)
and polish those weathered lines!
did you give it your all?
the door tags
and pleasantries
the tidings
and clippings
the irrevocable claims
and postured blames
all those impressionable basics
put to the test?
you know the call
(straight from
those cold academics)
the pie chart gurus
and contract killers
(complete with bone in finger)
whipping their
frenzied crew
in an all night
charade
old yellar
and the gatekeeper
sure seem amused
(sharpening their inquest
behind closed doors)
firing up the shiit storm
with those hostile priicks
and a slew
of insatiable
cures
there’s laughter from the back room
the dripping nose
and wavering hand
the cut white lines
and checkpoint tales
the pipeline romance
and lacking form
(of a basic essential
character!)
soundboard
and narratives
for logging time
slouching on the
steel case
over moot points
ready to play
the 3 weight
butter card
(if need be)
might I remind you
it’s only an inquiry
(with a slight hint of concern!)
surely no
malfeasance
or deception intended
so step back from
the melt down
and cut to the chase!
headlines to breadlines
penthouse to outhouse
those immoral pursuits
have taken their toll
(haven’t they?)
madman or rogue
(you take your pick)
for the scores
and tabulations
are final
shame on you
for the foul play
the bold hypocrisy
and order desk games
the back stabbing blames
and spurious names
just sign on the dotted line ~
this banter
is killing me
Jan 4, 2017
Jan 4, 2017 at 1:12 PM UTC
I've been writing of hopes and dreams
Seeking happiness from this life takings
Who is it meant for you're wondering
Is it for me or for the general viewing
Or am I reaching out too short within
Till you forget your very own living
I'm a fool fulfilling inquest of a portrayer
Illusions to soothe the eye of the betrayer
Creating encryptions lock to every scribbles
Even a space I can spare no farther
Lets just **** this rhythm and blues
Death is inevitably thats what i conclude
Now let me make this clear and true
Only through my poems you'll find the clues
But don't be mad if you get confused
For we are twins alike I hint you
Maybe through my riddles you'll produced
Or you could just give up its your calling too
For the end of the day eventually you will
Spent your nights stuck on your own puzzle too
©2014 Maman Screams
Jan 12, 2014
Jan 12, 2014 at 9:55 PM UTC
The sad thing is
I could have justified my instruction
with the simplest of reasons.
I would not have asked
a harmful or a wicked task of him
and I could have explained that
with perfect clarity.
But in the instant that he asked 'Why?'
my patience failed
and I said, 'Because I told you to.'
The implied threat was sufficient
and the task was done, satisfactorily.
If I had only known
that I would become one in a long line
planting furrow after furrow of bitter seeds
in this young man's head,
each of which would grow
into the toxic blossom of blind obedience
I would have checked myself that day.
But I did not.
And any inquest worth its salt
would line me up beside him,
beside parents, teachers, priests,
drill sergeants, generals, presidents
A line of dominoes
aimed remorselessly
at a smiling young woman with a placard
in a park, in Istanbul.
Jun 6, 2013
Jun 6, 2013 at 8:25 AM UTC
1663
His mind of man, a secret makes
I meet him with a start
He carries a circumference
In which I have no part—
Or even if I deem I do
He otherwise may know
Impregnable to inquest
However neighborly—
1.9k
975
The Mountain sat upon the Plain
In his tremendous Chair—
His observation omnifold,
His inquest, everywhere—
The Seasons played around his knees
Like Children round a sire—
Grandfather of the Days is He
Of Dawn, the Ancestor—
1.6k
On every single night, the heavens rise,
and the ages descend when your eyes dance.
You ingratiate the barren night skies,
Like a void star, befallen, left to chance.
Plight yet graceful on the adorned stage
the limitless expectation, recant.
A gift the blessing of the exquisite
soft golden glazed inquest aspiration,
And in them I witness, the perfection.
The spike that pierces, a sinister sole
a driver of unhinged unworthy worlds.
To grace it with an unhinged perfection.
The heavens have come to set, to see you.
and I arise with the night to seek you.
Apr 13, 2013
Apr 13, 2013 at 12:08 AM UTC
A wave of thought always encircles you,
A wave of yarn link to civic concern always involves you,
A hope for change always enforces you,
A longing for endeavouring cogent living always inspire you,
Your brashness for a transformation yields this long journey,
A journey for reflexion, inquest, elucidation and communication,
Communiqué for an unfailing thinking and for an effort for human wellbeing!
Now it is the time for us to continue this journey,
A journey of unfurling thought for rationality, fairness and equality!
Mar 12, 2018
Mar 12, 2018 at 1:05 PM UTC
save me bubble baths,
pink bubbles in my chest.
steps soon may cross our paths,
paper guns and inquest.
pools of honey in your eyes,
my sweet, unheard of cries.
slightly broken ribs and pains,
back butterflies tied up in chains.
please, love my echoed kiss,
kiss my nearly drowned reflection.
wrap me in an endless bliss,
then let me out of your ‘protection’.
amount of happiness i’ve stolen,
your words i’ve twisted in my likes.
my soul completely swollen,
lost track of myself, moueix.
might know soon, soon, myself i’ll find
in someone new’s affection,
but that another, never will be more,
than a reminder of your deflection.
moueix, a word i used just to describe, me,
my love for you/him/he.
Mar 4, 2019
Mar 4, 2019 at 2:22 PM UTC
The stress of tests
for which I confess
that I am depressed
but will still suppress
that feeling of stress
with a tightening in my chest
I should have guessed
instead of creating this mess
the teacher is impressed
to bad I'm too obsessed,
to even protest
I cannot help but inquest
when I will receive my eternal rest
Feb 28, 2019
Feb 28, 2019 at 12:20 AM UTC
Scarpered for the siren liquor
Shame-seared claret cheeks
Lost to time and regulation
Found by terrified relation
Taught that gravity was quicker
Supine in the streets
Too pie-eyed for interventions
Fuddled buccaneer
Too aware for rectifiers
No relief with pacifiers
Banished now for contraventions
No more welcome here
Therein lies the contradiction
Tricksy elbow-bender
You designed this cunning passport
Teamed constabulary transport
Speedy coveted eviction
Purposeful offender
Now we nurse the convalescent
Scarring quips ignore
Dodging pleading, wounding protest
Culpable without an inquest
Feeling without feel-depressant
Pain-drink tug-of-war
Where to put our damaged kindred
Languishing in grief
Ductile truth in glass distended
Remedies are not extended
Therapies are judgement-tinted
Distanced from relief
Imminent familiar wipeout
Nowhere safe to be
Don’t do as the doc suggested
Cede to being bottle-bested
Bottle-lock in private hideout
Throw away the key
Aug 16, 2024
Aug 16, 2024 at 12:56 AM UTC
Inquest
Is it better to have
Loved and
Lost and
Learned the
Lecture of
Life; unavailing
Or be it
Simple and
Stay
Silent and
Survey the
Selfless shadow of solitary
I have
Yet to
Yield a
Yearning for
Yesterday; I am
Young
Apr 12, 2012
Apr 12, 2012 at 3:12 PM UTC
Here are burdens riddled with subtleties
Mysterious questions of life and death
Mushroomed out of an addictive breath
Artificial intelligence for government subsidies
Yet, beyond earth lie no inquest or induction
Posed on greasy brink of insanity's fallacy
Coming upon junction of humanity absently
Greater guidance larger than sapient deduction
Are we falling through space or are we suspended?
Can't help now, but with forethought will accomplish
Foolish fire to which we pay homage
Lighting a candle for now, for all in attendance
May 7, 2017
May 7, 2017 at 9:25 AM UTC
Is war coming? Are we headed for another crazy cataclysm?
My sons, draft age. Only now can I appreciate the pain
so sharp it drains the color from one's eyes, your reason
for living gone in a spasm of violence to be forgotten
never by survivors. This fear could become real as no movie
is surreal enough to distract attention from the certainty
you did not do enough to deflect man's trajectory.
All could be well in the end but history portends
a periodic bloodletting followed by a quietus
without mercy. What's the best that can be said:
he died beside his friends and buddies. Steady
on to your own inquest and rest. A perfect rest
that improves upon the inadequacy of your efforts.
What solace can be found in the remains of marriage.
So you better fight back now even if that means
war comes sooner. At least you're fighting back, but how?
Take a minute to meditate on purpose. Science
cannot save you, neither can religion. Abstaining
from violence with love, letting prisoners go, detaining
no one at the border, inviting Chinese and Russian
scientists to our shores, defusing your own anger before it detonates,
none may be enough to save your sons.
A war president needs war, whatever. A trained
and deadly warfighter. You become what history wants
you to become. You survive if you're lucky, if not
so what, your old parents will be alive only briefly to mourn.
Then they too go to their good graves and the pain dies down.
In the meantime a new generation builds a new space station.
Since the vortex will be ******* up the poor,
let's not let the rich escape untouched. All go down
together, no one hoards gold or gets away with fiction.
If we have to fight let's make sure we fight as one,
the sons of the rich side by side with the poor's sons
and their daughters. You want slaughter? Then
let every city and back road know the new order.
I would rather watch Lalaland ten times over than have
to write this poem. I can leave home and live
in a tent or bunkhouse, eat dinner out of a tin cup
and drink water from a wooden bowl, give up
music and most of my memories to save my sons,
to save the world and avoid this war.
But that rarely happens. One is lost and found in what happens.
Jun 3, 2018
Jun 3, 2018 at 10:09 AM UTC
worthy of me, meeting you
It seems that I have been held in some dreaming state of my mind...
T'is que que of mine
If this search is in vain
Must cease to perish
in this hunt
And I did risk
t'is inquest through hope
and prayers ..
stillness yet subsides
that takes up
trials and errors
till I hit it right ..
ah, cut the chase!
better than a life of lies and phonies
if my beliefs be in disbelief
Till I realized he got me, in grief
under his wings
trying to understand what love craves
sure better than a life of disgrace
No one has reached
this peak of ours
so why whine
whose blindness claims
I sayeth, it is unreal
I'd rather die deceived
by dreams than give it all out...
is it possible to say sorry..
because it's too late now
Perhaps, it's about to blow
my patience to my gentle heart
Ive been and heard so much -
what have I learned
But fool's am I
for one moment
I gather and rather write
just to release.
have the freedom
to achieve my best soul
can't deny past the vice he must
be double standard to all the crowd considers just.
Oh well, I understand the Way blindly stray., we errs fast..
If we will to be
such wildly hues
even if this search for hidden glories
Proves blasphemy at last,
be sure thine venture
Is not mere cheap talk
but an exacting test.
The fruit of love's greatly;
Whoever it tolls,
t'is knows passiveness.
When love has pitched hers
tent in someone's *****
Love pain will **** to death
managing any task just to survive
Love forces her to be his prodigy
He cannot take this till infirmity
That he is floundering in a sea of sins
T'is man desperately insane just to win over priceless love
Nonetheless, all these boils down
when U and I love,
I admit, I am blind or fool.
We just get wiser
and see in crystal clear
what is best and of worth!
Jan 6, 2016
Jan 6, 2016 at 3:42 PM UTC
This is where I work,
I told Tilly.
She followed me
around the place.
It was a Saturday;
the place was almost empty.
I had come to clear up
a few things from the day before.
You make marquees?
She said.
The women do,
I just help,
then go out helping
to put up marquees
all over the place,
I said.
Where abouts
have you been?
All over the place;
did a racing stables
the other week,
some big wedding,
I said.
Not our wedding,
then Benny?
No not ours,
I said.
Shame,
she said.
I her showed
the area
we kept
the canvas and ropes.
Soft here to lie on,
she said,
touching a piles
of canvas sheets.
Guess so,
I said.
Anyone about?
She said.
A few not many,
I said.
Would they look for you
if you were
missing awhile?
Who knows?
I said.
I'd take you home,
but Mum's there today,
and she'd only give
another inquest into
what we may have done
the other week,
Tilly said.
I opened the door
and peered out
the passage way;
all was clear,
no one about,
I said.
She lay down,
and I lay beside her.
We kissed and hugged,
and I touched her thigh,
and she began
to unbutton my jeans.
Benny, Benny,
are you around?
a voice said
from down the passage.
I jumped up,
and she tidied
herself up,
and I got up,
and opened the door.
Yes, you wanted me?
I said along the passage.
The manager stood
in the doorway.
Do you know what
we did with the order book?
I think I saw Joe
put it in the green file,
I said.
Where'd he put it after that?
The manager said.
God knows,
I said,
maybe it's in the workshop.
I'll look there,
he said,
and walked off.
I went back to Tilly
who was now standing
in the room
against the door.
Has he gone?
she said.
Yes he was looking
for the order book.
I best go,
she said.
Ok,
I said,
and showed her
the back way out,
and she kissed me,
and walked off.
See you later,
I said.
She nodded
and I went in.
Almost made it,
but no big sin.
Jun 7, 2016
Jun 7, 2016 at 1:26 AM UTC
An inquest that demands to be answered
a concealed suspicion that lingers on like a cancer.
Days after days it keeps on augmenting
the craving propagates,
although the elucidation is still suspended.
it could be alongside or could be distant
or still an object that craves to be existing,
the separation is crucial with the resolution being more brutal.
But then in the dark nights
its your demons that you gotta fight.
Feb 17, 2016
Feb 17, 2016 at 11:45 AM UTC
When I do sum the moments of the dial
And spy the bold day to darkness fall,
When I survey youth advance the while
And bister coils to white unfold for all ;
When soaring trees so leave their leaves,
Which formerly did a great marquee make,
And Summers' blooms yet bound in sheaves,
Stillborn in a tomb with webs on the grave;
Then of thy allure do I inquest, I inquire,
If thou among the ebbing tide must go,
Since lovers & beauty do themselves retire;
And shrink as swiftly as they once didst grow;
Then what else against the passage of Time
Can ensure survival, besides a timeless rhyme?
Jun 30, 2016
Jun 30, 2016 at 2:38 PM UTC
that question lingers again,
when im trying to attain,
the memories of the past,
but the years were too vast,
to even remember that inquest,
but i have a society to rest.
it will always remain the same,
me burning in the flame,
it bruising me blue,
of thinking is it even true?
I'll blame myself again, or
depreciate my fate,
but it was only me as a bait.
as i try to finally recall,
i remember it all.
"the question was why not me?"
"why don't i get to be glee?"
but the answer will remain the same,
"you don't have a name,
how can an obscure get a happy ending?
no ones there to be defending,
you should already admit defeat"
but how do i tell them i don't like to be incomplete.
Sep 2, 2025
Sep 2, 2025 at 1:21 PM UTC
I have emotions
I expect most people do
But they sometimes make me wonder
If what I'm feeling is the truth
What is known is not subjective
I find it easy to list facts
Keep only what is accurate
Let go of the abstract
Explore, inquest, and scrutinize
Everything I'm told
While always remembering
Integrity can be sold
Feelings are more fluid
Like sadness, fear and rage
Control comes with maturity
And perspective with age
A mood can change completely
In less time than a blink
Rage can settle, sadness cheer
And a fear faced can shrink
But then it begs the question
Where do these two things meet
How you feel and what you know
Must one always retreat
Do they live in harmony
Work together side by side
Or do they have control of me
While I sit back and enjoy the ride
Mar 8, 2016
Mar 8, 2016 at 6:45 PM UTC
There is a dangerous man I implore you to take heed
He will do anything to satisfy his own need
He will pretend to like you, on your soul he'll feed
When he's got your confidence your heart he'll always bleed
His persona will alter, his greediness will breed
And he'll resort to ****** when everything's agreed
when he has got everything, he will make you plead
This man must be stopped, don't let him spread his seed
There are too many of his kind and so many of his creed
There is a need for justice, my sisters souls not freed
Praying on my sisters kindness and her vulnerabilities
knowing of my sisters illnesses her medical disabilities
Using underhanded tactics to exploit her instabilities
Relying on her personal assets without any liabilities
To get his hands on her things without any responsibilities
being part of her life to use her house and her facilities
If he didn't get what he wanted, turning to hostilities
Overpowering my sister's state of mind limiting her abilities
When he sold my sisters things his intentions where revealed
Once he bled my sister dry then her fate was sealed
when his plan came to ahead he dumped her in a field
Leaving him to ransack her house and her things he stealed
All of those missing weeks our sisters death concealed
With our sisters sad demise our hearts are never healed
He should pay for his crimes, without the authorities shield
Confess to what he's done and make the ******* yield
Don't succumb to his lies, don't let his influence wield
You better watch out for this man and keep your eyes well peeled
During our sister's inquest the evidence was curved
It was an open verdict the true facts where reserved
We suffered 9 weeks of hell, our point was not observed
Mandy's life was forfeited, her life was not conserved
he got away with ****** didn't get what he deserved
The punishment should fit the crime not anything preserved
No one was accountable justice wasn't served
Convict this man of his crimes, decisions not reversed
Our sister never had a fare chance all she had was pain
He tortured her mentally all for his own gain
Lying for his own ends he was my sister's bane
Causing her physical harm, by his hands she was slain
His part in her death is not so straight or plain
Due to his interference we'll never see her again
His presence at her inquest, his choice was to refrain
Crucifixion is to good he's humanity's biggest stain
Destruction should be performed, on society he's a drain
Justice should be served on that murderer and thief Mr **** Tustain
Aug 24, 2017
Aug 24, 2017 at 12:05 PM UTC
When I do sum the moments of the dial
And spy the bold day to darkness fall,
When I survey youth advance the while
And sable coils to white unfold and dull;
When soaring trees shed their leaves,
Which formerly did a great marquee make,
And summer's blooming bound in sheaves
Stillborn in a tomb with webs on it's grave;
Then of thy allure do I inquest, I inquire,
That thou among the ebbing tide must go,
Since lovers & beauty do themselves retire
And die as swiftly as they once didst grow;
Then what 'gainst the passage of time
Can ensure survival, but a timeless rhyme?
Apr 24, 2016
Apr 24, 2016 at 10:46 PM UTC
I think it's more the current of your being
That pulls you into my embrace
The ink is permanent and seeing
Beyond your eyes and smile like a race
Against the teachings offered then
When I could taste the bittersweet guilt
When I remembered how to count to ten
God's words were fabric in my family quilt
And now I'm being lured away
By yearning kisses and your cashmere love
It means enough that I just with you'd stay
I've given up a lot, too much, above
From where this scene is crystal clear
The angels cry, ashamed of me
Or laugh and whisper words of comfort in my ear
I guess the truth, I'll always fail to see
These moments so awaited accidentally
Of pressing my heart up against your chest
Eliminating arid sorrow gently
Just giving, taking, and forgetting all the rest
And touches, lighting love on fire
I let you drink it off my tongue
Our firm embrace composing infinite desire
Ephemeral reality leaves aspirations hung
And where could I inquest salvation
For both of us, and keep it all
Avoiding lies and slick temptation
Recovering after the fall
Past midnight, stirred by dreams of wishes
A teardrop slips off eyelash tips
My soul just murmurs, breathes, and swishes
Awaits to brush against your lips
Oct 8, 2014
Oct 8, 2014 at 1:31 PM UTC
Nauseating persiflage pontification
by aeolists with hollow minds,
it's a zugzwang situation,
so stuck among the prolix.
Panglossians in one ear
pessimists in the other,
a hiraeth longing for hygge,
yet stuck in the social mire.
Nonneutonian fluid vacuum,
imminent immersion of initiatives,
halting inundation of discerning,
heading toward a humming flat line.
Suddenly I adimpleate, with joy,
an archetypal suggestion floats in the air,
I excuse myself from the aretalogers,
and hunt the primordial source.
With legwork and inquest,
here and there on the scene,
I am defeated, misfortune,
alas, absorbed back into the quagmire.
Aug 15, 2017
Aug 15, 2017 at 11:23 AM UTC
Nestlings
I write best
Close to the vest
I attest
It’s what I know
Best
In my nest
It’s what I
Behest
I write best
Close to the vest
Be my guest
I’ll unload
My chest
Be just like
An inner inquest
I write best
Close to the vest
Just sit tight
I’ll feed ya
The rest
Bill MacEachern
03/24/23
Mar 24, 2023
Mar 24, 2023 at 9:55 AM UTC