"investigator" poems
If you are having sleepless nights, blame it on calcium deficiency as a key calcium channel has been identified as responsible for deep sleep, says new study.
The study also gives us a clue to understanding both normal and abnormal waking brain functions.
"It is the same brain, same neurons and similar requirements for oxygen and so on. So what is the difference between these two states?" asked Rodolfo Llinas, a professor of neuroscience at New York University School of Medicine and a Whitman Center Investigator at the Marine Biological Laboratory (MBL) in Woods Hole.
To tackle the broad question of sleep, Llinas and his colleagues focused on one crucial part of the puzzle in mice, Marine Biological Laboratory.
Calcium channels, selective gates in neuron walls, are integral in neuron firing, ensuring that all parts of the brain keep talking to one other. But during sleep, calcium channel activity is increased, keeping a slow rhythm that is different from patterns found during wakefulness.
Based on this clue, the scientists removed one type of calcium channel, Cav3.1, and looked at how the absence of that channel's activity affected mouse brain function.
This calcium channel turns out to be a key player in normal sleep. The mice without working Cav3.1 calcium channels took longer to fall asleep than normal mice, and stayed asleep for much shorter periods.
Their brain activity was also abnormal, more like normal wakefulness than sleep. Most importantly, these mice never reached deep, slow-wave sleep.
"This means that we have discovered that Cav3.1 is the channel that ultimately supports deep sleep," Llinas said.
Because these mice completely lack the ability to sleep deeply, they eventually express a syndrome similar to psychiatric disorders in humans.Read more here:www.marieaustralia.com/green-formal-dresses | www.marieaustralia.com/yellow-formal-dresses
Jul 1, 2015
Jul 1, 2015 at 12:46 AM UTC
Quack Doctor
Fake Supervisor
Bogus Professor
Deceitful Color
Common Denominator.
Bomb Inventor
Rifle Creator
Device Innovator
Reigning Terror
Common Denominator.
Untruthful Suitor
Promiscuous Actor
Love Collector
Artificial Amour
Common Denominator.
Abusive Creditor
Illegal Investor
Unlawful Director
Greed Factor
Common Denominator.
Rogue Investigator
Friendly Assassinator
Double Conspirator
Backstab Traitor
Common Denominator.
Jan 2, 2014
Jan 2, 2014 at 10:06 PM UTC
Haunting voices now have you forever stuck in a trance
Telling you that today is the day, you can do it, just take a chance.
Uncontrollable impulses and feelings you cannot tame
You don’t know it yet, but when you’re done
You’ll have many to claim and 06351 will never forget your name.
You fought it hard, and all your known life
Today you did it; you took madam ****** as your wife.
An intimate secret your keeping locked deep inside your head
Before the night is over, you’ll be washing off all the blood before you go to bed.
He's now spreading there legs wide and making them scream
As he's stealing there ****** innocence, I bet he whispered in there ears let me in for this is not a dream.
Something’s not settling very well, six more now have been found bringing his count now to eight
With road blocks and check points all around he knows why he can tell.
Acting like nothing has ever happened he’s in his house
Pacing back and forth he’s trying to be, quiet as a mouse.
Buying the paper and watching the nightly news
He’s looking for signals, he’s looking for signs
He wants to know, do the police have any clues.
Injecting himself trying to help mislead the investigator’s at the police station
Now he finds himself, the number one suspect in the investigation.
Adamant at steering them in the wrong direction
If he left it alone he would have got away with it all and with complete perfection.
Six consecutive life sentences he won’t finish he did receive
Cause he has a date with the needle while the families still grieve.
shortly after witnessing his execution and for the day for him to pay for what he had done
One of the victim’s fathers walked into his back yard
And blew is chest apart and wide open with his shotgun.
(SirCARSr 08-07-13)
Aug 7, 2013
Aug 7, 2013 at 2:10 PM UTC
There is, one supposes, a certain nobility
In simply carrying on with the whole **** thing,
Though that assumes some epiphany,
Some clawing toward grace, or at least common decency.
He had, in some once upon a time,
Cast his lot with a better class of people, so to speak;
It had not ended well, though,
In line with how such things are resolved,
His fall not a spectacular, tempestuous thing,
But a gradual, veiled affair, not a fiery spectacle
With metaphorical medals cut away, epaulets stripped,
But a shaded silence, a shrouded yet palpable shunning.
And so he is here, in this fading little city
Perched forlornly on the banks of a nondescript little river,
Having taken an apartment above a pair of offices
(One occupied by a seemingly ancient and disinterested lawyer,
The other by an ostensible private investigator)
Which is sufficiently large and reasonably warm
Come the seemingly perpetual winter.
He lives, if not in such a manner
As he was once accustomed to, comfortably enough:
He has his practice, and an adjunct position
At the little cow college down the road in Alfred,
And there are the occasional women,
Sad divorcees marooned in this hill country,
Dewy-eyed undergraduates unable to discern
Suit coats that are a bit shabby and somewhat passe
(There is a haberdasher in Buffalo whose garments
Are in the neighborhood of up-to-snuff,
And he could certainly manage a trip
Down to New York for better tailoring,
Though he would be traveling in places and circles
Where he is not remembered fondly.)
Stepping outside, he encounter snowflakes,
Light and unprepossessing,
But he studies the sky anxiously, apprehensively
(One learns that he must pay Nature its due fealty in these climes,
And give into the primal, the instinctual)
For he knows what can transpire
When the wind blows off the big lake out west just so,
Turning innocuous flurries into a malevolent blankness,
Making the landscape inscrutable, alien, utterly terrifying.
Aug 7, 2018
Aug 7, 2018 at 10:01 AM UTC
Figure out the password.
The only way you could do that, is if you were the mystery machine itself.
It stands alone, by itself, clustered with other machines.
The mystery machine is an investigator, figuring out what other machines are up to. Their own password.
Then a human comes.
Trying to figure out the mysteries of, Mystery Machine. Why does he cry, when its not allowed to have emotions, why does it fall in love, with whom does it trip with. Why does it have malfunctions, but auto repairs anytime, he comes to find out the mysteries. He has a handbook. He twisted, and turned the **** gave the ***** a little jiggle, Opened the head and climbed inside. Everyday people would walk by the mystery machine, and try to look inside of it. But all they could see was a child locked up inside, sleeping for comfort, living inside a mystery.
Nov 29, 2014
Nov 29, 2014 at 8:03 AM UTC
Incantation
Strange was the night the harvest moon would serve as the pumpkin dark foreboding grips his heart as he walked what evil brewed
There were those recurring stories they were filled with mist had a groggy affect you slipped between the calm to the terrifying
Was it true did it really happen he was set to find out he always fancied himself as an investigator one who could probe the stewed
First he must find his way into the incandescing glow there he would separate fact from fiction at the very door of Haitian voodoo
He was set to meet Papa Legba he was in the form of an old man the gate keeper to the spirits and their world nonsense or truth
An old grass shack was where he had been instructed to go he entered saw a few ceremonial items setting on a crude altar
One thing for sure this god was not rich but devilment requires not earthen wealth but the souls of it followers behold the sooth
This babbler this one who transfixes minds on moon lit nights weaves the web no one will ever escape from and why would they
Come to this foreign chasm an opening that invites ever yawning behold its misteh mysteries dare not be afraid you will be wise
Here the weak are made strong the dead assist the living feel the cold clammy hand that desires to engulf you just surrender
The candles they will bring bondje or bon diea French for good god see him coming from the water under the sea oh great one rise
Tell us your humble servant what to do to own the night never to be frightened again by any circumstance you are foresworn as victor
Get on with it face your enemies send forth the vestiges of confusion the essence of delusion they will unknowingly do your bidding
It comes like a tidal wave the power oh what sway it holds you in its dark embrace moods enliven oh how it pervades stunning
There are no bounds no end this was what you were created for rifle the world all contents of moral chains forgotten are you kidding
One small thing our agreement has a catch put forth your hand the ceremonial knife must sacrifice tonight I’m the only one here nooo
Voodoo has mystery one to die for look well into your own soul on this evil Halloween night
Jan 1, 2012
Jan 1, 2012 at 5:37 PM UTC
Don’t lie to Nevada Baylor
It's a waste of your time
On a magic alternate earth
She's a truthseeker prime
Head of the family business
And a private investigator
When Houston is in danger
She’s tasked to find the perpetrator
One hundred fifty years ago
The Osirus virus gave
Magic talents to some people,
Mostly the rich and the brave
The virus was discontinued
Due to unpleasant results
And to keep power with Houses
- Think families plus cults
The dynastic Houses feud for
More than money and fame
They breed for powerful talents
To bring their Houses acclaim
Some powers are obvious
But some are understated
Then there are people who can’t
Control how they’ve mutated
The Baylor family is insignificant
Not of the Houses elite
Their talents are powerful
But they need to be discreet
They don’t want to play
Dangerous House games
Yet Nevada finds herself battling
to save Houston from flames
Read for adventure and romance
For banter and magic powers
Stay for the family chemistry
I could read Baylors for many hours
The whole series is fantastic
The audiobook narrator is great
If you’re into urban fantasy
Go ahead, one-click, don’t wait
Jun 20, 2019
Jun 20, 2019 at 4:52 PM UTC
Counterfeit CDs
Drugs, clothes, handbags
One ma paints counterfeit Van Gohs
Fake drugs are the worst
Because fake medicines don't help people
It's big business
Especially in China
Golf companies hire a Chinese manager
The manager copies the business model
Starts making counterfeit clubs
Begins his own counterfeit industry
Modern Fakes trade
Cialis, ****** Levitra
The packaging professionally done
The investigator seems quite concerned
That it is almost impossible to tell these products from the orignals
190,000 Chinese people have died because of fake medicines
The Chinese government is powerless to stop the faking syndicates
Capitalism unrestrained
By decency, morality, or law
According to the investigator
Feb 7, 2015
Feb 7, 2015 at 1:16 AM UTC
She's got
Too many strings
Tangled, cannot tell
Where they lead
She's pulled
This way and that way
Some play the puppeteer
Controlling her emotions
Decisions; her fears and desires;
She reached out
For something to cut with,
I caught her hand
And she grabbed a hold,
But her baggage
Was heavy with many things,
She couldn't
Get a foot hold to be freed,
What she hid away
I cannot say
As I tried
To get behind the dark veneer
Hiding her past;
Limiting my options
Trying to sort through
The signals and wires
Revealing only more
A mystery more a myth
Like an investigator
Following a lead gone cold;
My grip slipping
I questioned my resolve
To let go
Or give her time to evolve
From a defenseless bloom;
To a thorned rose
Out of the gloom
Destined to be
Her own operator
Clamping the brakes
On her free falling elevator...
© okpoet
Mar 1, 2013
Mar 1, 2013 at 4:15 PM UTC
I was looking for love
looking for a long time
I was looking for love
looking for a long time
I found the love I was looking for
He just happened to be knocking on my door
His job as an investigator
Bought him to my door
He asked a few questions
about my stolen garden gnome
Which had unexpectedly
fled from the back of my home
We conferred on the matter
of the robbery
And I could see in his eyes
that he was falling for me
The direction of our chat
changed rather rapidly
The air had the feeling
of sweet harmony
I found the love I was looking for
He just happened to be knocking on my door
Mar 9, 2013
Mar 9, 2013 at 7:28 PM UTC
I was looking for love
looking for a long time
looking looking looking
for a long time
I found the love
I was looking for
he just happened
to be knocking
on my door
his job
as an investigator
bought him to my door
he asked
a few questions
about my stolen
garden gnome
which had unexpectedly
fled from the back of my home
we conferred
on the matter
of the robbery
and I could see in his eyes
that he was falling
for me
the direction
of our chat
changed rather rapidly
the air had
a feel
of sweet harmony
I found the love
I was looking for
he just happened
to be knocking
on my door
Oct 24, 2013
Oct 24, 2013 at 6:50 PM UTC
Surfacing Tides-Storms Come
Father!
It's so dark !
I'm whispering
Where fore art thou Oh my Lord!
My soul only seeking this Why.. Oh God how, Lord why!
My God from where did evil get in among us.
Please help!
I am smiling I look normal I am holding conversations, engaging
at times small giggling.
She seems alright. Am I ok!
The Tides roll ashore upon the beaches sand.
I feel sane ok.
That Pulling me away from the shore line this tides withdrawing,
I'm drowning at bay.
I dont feel safe, I'm Lost, sad, angry, questions, tears sobs drowning.
Lost at sea.
Lord reach for me.
The tides pushing me back to the shore line.
Things seem a little fine. a touch of peace of mind.
Socializing, guessing playing investigator.
People chatting family saying comforting things.
I seem to be breathing.
At times hearing things seeing things feeling the weakness,,
The helplessness.
Watching the tides subsides.
sanity, reasons logics, I don't know the whys or the hows.
Killings are happening on local tv scenes.
Tides are low,,
Then they are high.
We wonder where and when will each soul rest.
lookin up to a storm in the sky.
each one has a reason why.
The storms come.
By
s.a.m selinasharday
Apr 30, 2018
Apr 30, 2018 at 11:07 PM UTC
Alone, as he needs it
Detached from his outfit
Alter-ego of the perfect mate
Man, to admire and date
Delivers devices and desires
Alma-mater of circumspection
Loyal and trustful in all fires
Gentle but firm in intention
Lovable mind, deeply unknown heart
Investigator of the best branch
Enchanting, ingenious, smart
Shines in most low-profile
Handsome and elegant with a vile.
Nov 1, 2019
Nov 1, 2019 at 6:36 AM UTC
THEY SAY
they want to be different, greater
don't they realize to their own words they're a traitor?
THEY SAY
they're a debator, educator, investigator, negotiator
but how?
how can they be so different when they all say the same things?
how can they be so ignorantly hypocritical?
love everyone they say whist full of hatred
hang out with your friends they say when alone in bed
you never talk to me they say although they've never tried
go outside they say from deep inside
get off your phone they say while on the computer
just be nice they say when they're actually a persecutor
THEY SAY
so much and do so little
want to become more while becoming less
they guess it's a success when they oppress
but it's just a mess
THEY SAY
things they should be saying to themselves to us
but we are all people too, not slaves to command or objects to discuss
THEY SAY
this and that and everything
but I say
N O T H I N G
for it is better to say nothing at all than to participate in the
parade of puppets who profusely preach phony phrases.
I'd rather remain silent than take part in this cacophonous,
hypocritical, ignorant, perfunctory mess that we call
s o c i e t y.
Sep 14, 2016
Sep 14, 2016 at 9:51 PM UTC
I want to be someone mysterious
A point of surprise
Being understood but yet wise
Perhaps being rich and spreading the wealth
I don’t want to be like everybody else
But a real dramatic role
Having scripting lines being the best ever told
Eyes with tears in confronting my fears
I was told I don’t have much time to live
My dramatic role would be everything that I would give
Maybe keep the audience laughing
The kitchen with an oven with its own surprise
A Seven Layer cake that was supposed to rise
Yet it just disappeared in the audience eyes
No matter how much frosting would be put on
The cake was more like a pancake for the morning yond
But I would let the audience respond
The killer in the room with a gun
I would become the **** Tracy Investigator checking clues among
I probably would be more like Angela Langsbury from ****** She Wrote with examining the clues with full run
My dramatic experience, stand for freedom
Having dignity and pride
I stand for all in where I preside
Well those are some of the roles I could possibly play
As the curtain goes down, I have taken my bow
That’s all the time that will allow.
Feb 14, 2016
Feb 14, 2016 at 1:15 PM UTC
Maybe it was the way we laughed,
or the way your smile lit the room:
the way it lit my heart.
Maybe it was the way you talked,
or the way you whispered in my ear:
the way it flushed my cheeks.
Maybe it was the way you walked,
or the way I longed to sit and drink espresso:
the way it warmed my body.
Or maybe it was the way you lived:
the way you felt so close.
The way you smiled.
The way you brightened –
your very essence:
the way you made me fall for you.
Apr 25, 2013
Apr 25, 2013 at 12:39 PM UTC
At the end of the corridor
the ceiling light had burned out
one of 6 on this floor
this made the last 10 feet extremely dark
until ones' eyes adjusted
and when the remaining light
slowly allowed her to see shapes
she noticed the still shadow
she wanted to use the stairwell at this end
as the elevator had been jumpy
and in her mind,
unsafe
she paused and considered what could make this shadow
other than her silly imagination
and as she continued to focus
the shadow became clear,
distinct
it was that of a man
tall and broad
and as she watched
he turned, ever so slightly
and began to move towards her
no window, no furniture nearby to cause this oddity
her inclination to find explanation
quickly dissolved
and fear was now the emotion that guided her
that led her to the elevator without a thought to look back
'OUT OF ORDER'
the sign screamed in large red letters
now she had to look
and there he was
in the lighted area now
the shadow standing out like black on white
and he was looking at her
no eyes, no face
but she knew he was looking at her
she ran to the other end of the 8th floor corridor
damning her insomnia along the way
opened the stairwell door and glanced ever so quickly
he was within 5 feet of the door
her scream echoed up to the 12th and down to the 1st floor lobby
loud enough for the single front desk agent to hear
followed by the sound of her body thud against the 1st floor stairwell concrete
first bouncing off several of the metal handrails on its way down
"Obvious suicide" said the first investigator on the scene to the hotel manager
"No signs of a struggle"
"But why would such a beautiful young lady like this want to take her own life?"
the manager queried
"That is not for you nor I to understand, my friend.
Only the shadows know"
Apr 11, 2018
Apr 11, 2018 at 12:26 PM UTC
Because of an upsurge in fatal accidents in the North Texas area, and elsewhere I'm sure, I believe it appropriate to repost this write.
There are many "you's" out there, on the highways, byways, freeways. Those that put others in harms way, excercising their egotistical need to be "first in line", "head of the class", so to speak; **** the torpedoes, full speed ahead!" is their rallying cry.
It makes no difference what "YOU" are driving, old vehicle, new vehicle. Perhaps an overly powerful pickup truck, or an SUV, that makes YOU feel IMMORTAL. Ice, snow, rain, dark of night, makes no difference to YOU. Inconsiderate, rude, careless, makes YOU, dangerous. Today is no different, its "all about YOU." Speeding, weaving in and out of traffic, no need for signals, tail-gating, trying to get that vehicle out of YOUR way, because YOU are being "INCONVENIENCED!" YOU, don't care! For this morning, like any other morning, "its all about YOU."
The lights are a bit glaring, as you begin to emerge from that state of unconsciousness, laying in that hospital bed, wondering where you are, who, and why, are those strangers standing around you.
They are the doctors, nurses, first responders, investigators, preparing for your reaction when you're told that the brains of your spouse and children had to be scraped off the pavement with a snow shovel.
You should be proud of yourself. For today is truly,
"All about YOU!"
copyright: richard riddle April 03, 2015
37 years as an accident investigator, have seen many of these. This piece was inspired by Jamie Burkes, "BOOM". Thanks, Jamie!
Sep 8, 2015
Sep 8, 2015 at 2:28 AM UTC
A heart.
A note.
A poem.
A hug.
Or a simple whisper of the word love.
If a doctor should diagnos the symptons of a broken heart.
They would conclude, it's a heart sign of love.
If an investigator had to investigate a message within a note.
His conclusion would be the same, as the doctor.
A love sign was the cause of his problems.
Words, written in a poetic style to a lover.
Would only impress that lover's a little more.
That a hug would soon follow.
The eyes.
The eyes of a dreamer of truth.
The voice.
The voice that's simmering to your ears.
That it has the power to create love.
These are love signs that touches us the most.
Jesus has his signs working in the truth.
We have of love signs working deep within us.
Dec 19, 2012
Dec 19, 2012 at 9:58 AM UTC
i’ve been thinking about how little everything actually matters and how i am the cause of all the problems in the world. i laid next to my backpack and pretended i was at the center of a crime scene, as i dumped the contents of my bag out and laid them in a straight line like a criminal investigator. every receipt postcard camera and film. i read all the postcards and realized how fake every apology or thank you or i miss you i ever written has been. and the only one i had meant was yet to be written. i needed to find a way to make my feelings sound realer than the fake ones and the i do not know any other ways to say “i love you” other than i wish you were here and so on. i purposely ignored you so i could lay down and pretend you were holding me. it felt so real and i could not hear anything and i forgot i was in the middle of a beach and you were in your friends basement getting high and that even though you were closer to me than you usually were, i could not see you. i realized that i would continue to feel this way for months and the distance between us would continue to grow until a miracle brought you to me or me to you & how wishful it was to think someone like you would wait for someone like me as i felt myself grow younger and i did not know if i would ever see you again. i cried when i realized the second time we met may have been the last & that i had known you longer than anyone i had ever loved & realized if you let go, it would hurt more than ever. i pretended we stopped talking forever when my phone died & wrote the number, one thousand eight hundred and eighteen on my arm. i am running out of poetic ways to say i miss laughing with you in a van and now when i think of green eyes i think of yours and not hers, and even though the drugs made your face look really different- i still thought you were really beautiful but i didn’t have the courage to say it & i was shivering or how i made a list of things i should’ve told you or how i had wished i had held your hand but it would make this all hurt even more. how even meeting you for less than twenty four hours with many awkward silences still managed to feel right and how our eyes said everything our mouths wouldn’t. the sky shifted and became beautiful intricate patterns i thought i would never see before, and i tried to think of ways i could live in that moment forever, but somehow fell short. when we left, i wanted so badly to turn the car around, thinking somehow i would be able to see the patterns again.
Jun 25, 2017
Jun 25, 2017 at 5:09 PM UTC
One of the many pleasures in life
is knowing that there’s heaven and hell. I cannot remember what
you look like, just that
today’s my own personal
Life-Sucks-and-I-Want-to-Die Day (which means
tomorrow I will
love my life and want to live forever).
The astrology department reports an explosion
and that people should stay indoors
to avoid tunnel vision.
My star sign says
I will be torn in two directions today – I should
hire a private investigator to count my steps. I wasn’t
going to feel happy for myself but
now I’m stumbling my way out of the bar
with only five dollars in my bra.
A beakless raven hops past
against the dying of the light
and intones
I am the poet Dylan Thomas
risen from the dead:
advancing as long as forever is
I promise I will be ok.
Jul 11, 2015
Jul 11, 2015 at 6:19 AM UTC
Is it paralyzed by fear
Is it petrified by the thought of me
Is it the not so reliable men before me
Is it the fact you can't comprehend how much I love you
Is it the way I go about all of this
Is it the questions you ponder
Is it the answers you wonder
Is it because I'm not good enough
Is it because it's too good to be true
It's your heart that's a question
You're truly a mystery
I'm not an investigator
I'm not a love detective
I can't read the clues
I can't piece together the evidence
You're a suspect in a crime
That I'm afraid to convict you of
Yet my cover is blown
You see the truth to who I am
My hearts very existence
Lay before you in ruins
Maybe it's the ghosts you're afraid of
The voices whispering that echo louder
Your hearts a question
Every emotion boiling inside you
Is it the fear of being brought to life
By a man you barely know
I promise I'm not trying to make you a Frankenstein monster
If you don't want this tell me
Before I ***** the bolts in my neck any further
Pull the lever to be electrified into existence
I'm not asking you to be my Frankenstein bride
Just the amazing woman who's not scared of all these scars
All these stitches in my heart
All the missing pieces of my insanity
I'm sorry I can't comprehend the evidence
That maybe I'm going about this all wrong
So maybe I'll black out the details
Try to make a new case
When this time I'm the victim
Because your heart was the unanswerable question
Taking my thoughts and suffocating my heart
And I'm sorry if this poem seems cruel
But I'm fighting myself more than ever
Trying to understand why I'm so madly in love with you
Yet that answer is obvious
Clear as crystal horizons
But I'm so oblivious to it
You're simply you
A Mystery that can never be solved
Oct 26, 2014
Oct 26, 2014 at 11:04 AM UTC
a mayflower
is please
the art
of law
to pursue
investigator of
its pill
when a
foothill is
mother to
triumph of
ill while
you are
nature's force
here but
taken true
elegant again
Mar 24, 2019
Mar 24, 2019 at 11:07 AM UTC
I HAVE BEEN
pain
sinner
hater
villain
coward
deficit
betrayer
destroyer
liar
void
depression
hollow
I AM
sister
daughter
child
peacekeeper
investigator
dreamer
seeker
explorer
comforter
maker
storyteller
poet
h.f.m.
May 14, 2018
May 14, 2018 at 12:11 PM UTC