"interrogative" poems
there is a darkness
that the silver song
of soft illusion lights
in symbolic equivalents
of images real
it is a light
brutally interrogative
magnifying with dazzling rays
the breakage
at the jagged edges of the world
and lays hostage to impersonation
that resembles fragments
of smashed oval shaped mirrors
reflecting pieces of broken
brown terracotta soldiers
and causes the eyes to hurt
with a watched inner holocaust
of disturbing coloured detonations,
implosively autonomous
given to a deceived departure
a departure from reality
given by the advocacy
of ideological rationalism
that sees three kings
with blood on their crowns
in amplified convulsions
call mustre for
disturbance, disorder, destruction
and death
as blood stains the Balkan streets
and all emotional impulse
is volatilized
and a sinister, stuporous, stagnancy
stalks the land
where sustaining minds
are subject to a brutal insensitivity
that dazzles on the edge of a spiral vertigo
it is a light
brutally interrogative
magnifying with dazzling rays
a vocabulary of incoherence
like the rancid stains of *****
that inhabit the jagged edges of the world
Apr 24, 2014
Apr 24, 2014 at 1:25 PM UTC
You asked me my name in your first remark
We sat on opposite ends of a question mark
You were dashing - made me pause,
me, this independent clause
standing alone,
I made sense on my own
But I answered you anyway.
Ellipses.
Now you are the verb in my heart’s contraction
I am the subject and you are the action
An Interrogative with a Declarative reaction
An Exclamatory and then an Imperative attraction
Ellipses.
Your lips ease
Me, the direct object of your affection,
but never sentenced to an apostrophe’s possession
perhaps more true- a plural “s” suggestion
and the excitement behind an exclamation point’s inflection
The semi-colon understands
We can be on our own, but we want to stand
together
where our letters
aren’t fetters,
but the typesetter’s
better measure
of linguistic pleasure.
We communicate through metaphors and similes
Like the birds and the bees
We speak across homophone lines
to keep a census of our senses at all times
Because words said aloud have allowed
us to find meaning behind the utterance of sound-
mere words and phrases
jumping off of pages
into brain and heart and soul
when the parts become a whole
And with the syntax, punctuation, grammar, and usage
I’m a hopeless semantic always trying to ****** it
Language- yours I understand through the myriad.
Words can’t capture you. Period.
Apr 10, 2016
Apr 10, 2016 at 10:50 PM UTC
What I need and where to get it?
What I want and when to act?
Wheres the answer and who gives it?
When is payday and how do I collect?
When to quit and what is my excuse?
Why I cry and where are the tears?
How do I change and will it be painful?
Can I succeed and in what context?
Where is the enlightenment and will I understand?
Why is the clock quickening and how do I stop it?
Did I miss my opening and will there be another?
Are the colors the same and will I be blinded?
What is the reason and is it good enough?
How does it work and why do we try?
Why do we try?
Apr 6, 2010
Apr 6, 2010 at 7:33 PM UTC
keep my heart in a mason jar
above your bed
take it down and look at it
from time to time
then watch with a frown
on the day the jar slips through your fingers
and plummets to the hardwood
with a crack & a shatter
"sorry" you'll mutter
with an almost interrogative inflection
but you won't pick up the shards
you'll stare blankly at the contents - my heart
it's messy, not what you wanted
stains from the girl with the mason jar heart
will haunt the floorboards and echo in the walls
and you'll wish you'd been more careful
when you had her in your hands
- m.f.
Aug 3, 2013
Aug 3, 2013 at 2:31 PM UTC
the dead re-materialise by the side of the roadside
they are visible as though seen through a spotlight
it is a brutally interrogative light
that magnifies these corpses
makes them resemble the fragments
of suicidal terracotta pots
it magnifies them as symbolic equivalents
of their real image
its beam dazzles broken glass on the pavement
the breakage an impersonation of their cataclysm
causing the edges of seeing to hurt
and hearing to submerge itself
in a turquoise blue aquarium in fear
as speech sounds a primitive retreat
in its atavistic echoes of inveterate distraction
there is a disorder of blood stains on the road
where all emotional impulse is volatilised
causing a wild distillation of programmed anxiety
which in a different vocabulary becomes
a figment of somebody else's imagination
causing a sinister, stuporous, stagnancy of sound
in palpitations, dropped heartbeats, nausea, headaches
and a foul change in bowel function
Dec 10, 2013
Dec 10, 2013 at 10:11 AM UTC
my conscious,
a spec on the corner of the Polaroid lens,
a heart lost in the reeds of dampened circumstance,
a hydrangea blooming in an untended field,
meditates upon itself
like a child lost
in a superstore.
--
an ocean wave mimics its predecessor
only to fall victim to aspiration.
what will crush upon my tired bones
as they chase sunsets
in a similar search
for meaning
?
May 20, 2018
May 20, 2018 at 10:53 PM UTC
how long to live through the next thought
to have a brief encounter with time
an impossible time of intolerable anguish
where embarking upon a sentence
is a violent wrench from perceived notions
of reality, one that causes nerves
to flay upon my body with weal's of words
where vatic poetry is wrought in trembling rages
spilling, dripping upon the traumatised
parchment that is my pages
in de-congealing interrelated drops of image
that crack the pavements
in a visual vibrancy of taut creative tension
where these words keep their own company
and speak in interrogative tongues
causing a fragmentation of earthquake fissures
to radiate across my mind in a cataclysm
of universal poison that quiets and dissolves stability
and asks, no demands of me, what can you see?
Nov 12, 2013
Nov 12, 2013 at 8:05 PM UTC
Totally like whatever, you know?
by Taylor Mali
In case you hadn’t noticed,
it has somehow become uncool
to sound like you know what you’re talking about?
Or believe strongly in what you’re saying?
Invisible question marks and parenthetical (you know?)’s
have been attaching themselves to the ends of our sentences?
Even when those sentences aren’t, like, questions? You know?
Declarative sentences—so-‐called
because they used to, like, DECLARE things to be true, okay,
as opposed to other things are, like, totally, you know, not—
have been infected by a totally hip
and tragically cool interrogative tone? You know?
Like, don’t think I’m uncool just because I’ve noticed this;
this is just like the word on the street, you know?
It’s like what I’ve heard?
I have nothing personally invested in my own opinions, okay?
I’m just inviting you to join me in my uncertainty?
What has happened to our conviction?
Where are the limbs out on which we once walked?
Have they been, like, chopped down
with the rest of the rain forest?
Or do we have, like, nothing to say?
Has society become so, like, totally . . .
I mean absolutely . . . You know?
That we’ve just gotten to the point where it’s just, like . . .
whatever!
And so actually our disarticulation . . . ness
is just a clever sort of . . . thing
to disguise the fact that we’ve become
the most aggressively inarticulate generation
to come along since . . .
you know, a long, long time ago!
I entreat you, I implore you, I exhort you,
I challenge you: To speak with conviction.
To say what you believe in a manner that bespeaks
the determination with which you believe it.
Because contrary to the wisdom of the bumper sticker,
it is not enough these days to simply QUESTION AUTHORITY.
You have to speak with it, too.
May 3, 2014
May 3, 2014 at 7:27 AM UTC
it's nights like these
i feel trapped by the city,
raw nerves exposed by interrogative streetlights,
my burning fury unable to escape
the bell jar of light pollution.
i need a long stretch of country road,
the windows rolled down in my piece of **** car
as i drive straight into farmland,
cornfields embracing me on either side,
the whisper of husks and leaves reminding me
it's going to be all right.
i need the only light to be
the sea of stars above, night left unmarred;
i need the pastures, the ponds,
the animals asleep in the barns,
the smell of hay, sweet and familiar.
i need to wander into the night
and kneel down in the dirt
and curse what i need to curse
where no one can hear me screaming for miles.
Dec 26, 2013
Dec 26, 2013 at 10:09 PM UTC
i am
outcast
beyond the boundaries
of peripheral inception
idly sated by
inquisitive deceptions
which, while whispering
envelope definition
to the point of being formless
almost a
liquid interrogative
which
penetrates the seams
so stitches stretch
like singing strings
in overtures of
softly deranged
tranquilities
Aug 6, 2014
Aug 6, 2014 at 8:55 PM UTC
^Who^
^What^
^When^
^Why^
These are the thoughts
that are indefinitely
racing across my mind
Feb 24, 2019
Feb 24, 2019 at 6:46 PM UTC
Au rare afternoon delights,
wrestled on a couch,
barely concealed,
gasping for an instant bond,
whinny inner monologue,
I chew the green & swallowed it
Quest for the bliss,
yet, you repeat yourself,
comme d'habitude,
nerves has conquered,
yet, my neurons,
turned interrogative,
how can I make peace,
for the unbalance water scales.
Mar 22, 2023
Mar 22, 2023 at 10:57 AM UTC
i won't stop missing you
i write all the things i'm too cowardly to say to you
because you mean so much more to me than i ever will to you
and i'm grandiose and over dramatic
and you're so grounded and pragmatic
and i'm interrogative and analytic
and you're so instinctive and prolific
Dec 15, 2021
Dec 15, 2021 at 11:45 AM UTC
Ever heard of anxiety?
Just the word itself feels like eternity
A feeling that is born to multiply infinite
Still indefinite for the definite
Well, I have the social anxiety
That sounds like a self diagnosis
But every nanosecond I am going through metamorphosis
I do not have the profession to state this reliable confession
I know we are all different
But I know we are the same when it comes to biology
I am not saying this for unity
The sad thing is I cannot sell this brain for rent
Yet the hardest needed medication is empathy
For this distorted mentality
Why do you have to hurt when I am already in hell, reality?
Now shifting to maladaptive tendencies
I am not afraid of the crowd
I have fear they will not let me just be myself all year round
Say something positive
I will always flip it into something negative
Because I am provocative
Please see that as a prerogative
Do not be interrogative
This brain is too active for the inactive
Imaginative radioactive
Lacking in the interactive
Yet the fact that is also not enough
I am not enough is not enough
Since my problem is not in the physical
It is in the mental
And it is never going to turn only rental
Say you are only temperamental
Body burning like metal
Stuck in the bungalow
Now that they are all after the afterglow
Oh, when will it show?
The sweat excess
In this overthinking process
Overthinking the fact that we are all wired in "survival of the fittest"
Oh, brain! Just let me rest!
Can I just leave this to tomorrows' nests?
How can I show my best
When I need medication regardless
When will I find egress to this madness?
This is fine
Since suffering will lead you to happiness
Even for temporariness
What is worse is that it repeats
Until you are out of line
It was better all along if I became a mime
Better 'off with my head'
Better off dead
Jul 15, 2019
Jul 15, 2019 at 8:08 AM UTC