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"sleuthing" poems
The leopard and the lion chose to become friends, For they were all proud of claws on their paws They each glorified one another for their mighty, Ability to live on meat of other fauna throughout a year, They each admired one another for running speed, They each remained firm and loyal to one rule; Lions don’t eat leopards neither leopards eat lions. They felt warmth in their companionship without verve, Until the time they initiated a certain joint venture; To hunt an antelope as it was famed to be the sweetest, Again, there had remained one antelope only in the world, They dilly and not dallied anyhow about such glittering project, They both endevoured to set forth by each dawn for a whole year, Tediously hunting throughout a day, the lion doing a great part, Setting ambuscades and arduously sleuthing to orient on trail, The leopard severally fainted in the field due to exhaustion, On one eve of christmas day, the lion captured the prey, When the leopard was a sleep shivering in fevers of malaria, Their prey was a middle aged female antelope with swollen hips. The leopard was sparked to fire of life by a mysterious fillip, He boldly requested work, now to help the lion in carrying, The un-suspecting lion relinquished the carcass to the leopard, Feat of shrewdness gripped the leopard, he took off Running away with a lightening speed, the antelope on his mouth, The lion again began to chase, shouting to the leopard, To be a gentleman and stop running, for them to share the plunder, The leopard never listened, he craftily climbed to the apex, Of the most tall and most slippery tree, he perched at the peak With the antelope on his muscular mandibles of voracity, The lion remained at the stem, wailing like a toddler His family does not climb trees, not even a shrub, The lion wailed, using all styles of wailing, Pleading with the leopard to donate even an iota, Not even a small piece of antelope bone dropped To drop on the ground for the lion to taste, Human leopards are not good hunting companions.
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Mar 21, 2014
Mar 21, 2014 at 1:16 PM UTC
A LEOPARD IS NOT A GOOD HUNTING COMPANION
The leopard and the lion chose to become friends, For they were all proud of claws on their paws They each glorified one another for their mighty, Ability to live on meat of other fauna throughout a year, They each admired one another for running speed, They each remained firm and loyal to one rule; Lions don’t eat leopards neither leopards eat lions. They felt warmth in their companionship without verve, Until the time they initiated a certain joint venture; To hunt an antelope as it was famed to be the sweetest, Again, there had remained one antelope only in the world, They dilly and not dallied anyhow about such glittering project, They both endevoured to set forth by each dawn for a whole year, Tediously hunting throughout a day, the lion doing a great part, Setting ambuscades and arduously sleuthing to orient on trail, The leopard severally fainted in the field due to exhaustion, On one eve of christmas day, the lion captured the prey, When the leopard was a sleep shivering in fevers of malaria, Their prey was a middle aged female antelope with swollen hips. The leopard was sparked to fire of life by a mysterious fillip, He boldly requested work, now to help the lion in carrying, The un-suspecting lion relinquished the carcass to the leopard, Feat of shrewdness gripped the leopard, he took off Running away with a lightening speed, the antelope on his mouth, The lion again began to chase, shouting to the leopard, To be a gentleman and stop running, for them to share the plunder, The leopard never listened, he craftily climbed to the apex, Of the most tall and most slippery tree, he perched at the peak With the antelope on his muscular mandibles of voracity, The lion remained at the stem, wailing like a toddler His family does not climb trees, not even a shrub, The lion wailed, using all styles of wailing, Pleading with the leopard to donate even an iota, Not even a small piece of antelope bone dropped To drop on the ground for the lion to taste, Human leopards are not good hunting companions.
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36
Sleuthing drunkenly in a car home. My nature subdued by the foul nature of the world. Gay club I leave my body hanging out to dry. I can show every but ever moment of myself and I love every send of it. Belly is out.
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Dec 31, 2022
Dec 31, 2022 at 11:11 PM UTC
Queer at the end of the night
tense as the rolled up newspaper thrown slapping against the step at dawn awakening conspiratorial slinking around the truth sleuthing sniffing my way to find out this way or that but the way about the signs the clues preachers words the same weight as the street corner girls a way to think in our detectiving then the ultimate DNA almost the penultimate remains of the doer dids the who what did whats the ne'er do wells on Mulberry street , I know them hoods no they were not the culprits I scent along above below sniff and snoof behoove behind the wildest dogs to find it was mine own trail I had found among the shivering forest green I sat considered a shylock set this up then saw the bacon on my foot I had been following. I set off again my foot clean. I will find this bandit. I like bacon , though.
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May 6, 2017
May 6, 2017 at 1:44 AM UTC
I like bacon
times like this, the plenary moon tonight wearing many faces, the white-washed truant at bay white-hulled still, the brim of the sky to a full, on such a bright night leaving a trace of say, prongs of fire on the kiln the skin the soft breeze molests with a chill flung from pinecone – the blackened spires of the very heart of flame and the mullioned wood that understands what the heat of placeness mints underneath our skin – what silence remains a translation when the smoldering remains are bitten repeatedly, aureoled in the moment of vital meaning. we hear its threat, retained in clock-whirs like a primordial word or the fluting of light’s bendable rondure harnessing a truth we let in. I fail behind the walled-up lip of laughter because the weight of passing is heavy on my back – like a bough dragged by rainwater, or sound elected to drown: the smell of poinsettia assaults, lifting its slaughter against Kiltepan and Ambuklao, past mountains lulled to sleep: the moon sleuthing like a well-oiled machine. what do you hear? we are aware of its full absence, like that of our undulation after a fall, or the wild sibilance of breath trying to utter something, going back home with a song in between teeth, without words.
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Feb 24, 2016
Feb 24, 2016 at 6:56 AM UTC
What I Saw That Night
almond fronds for visions spidered eyes black a wink kisses the cheeks a sunrise nose spry lips of tangerine peels left after eating the heart calmest flowing rivers shoulders of the places bream nip for joy under a water slip she is jungled shy as the panther in the shadows sleuthing blending in and standing out when your eyes do meet a sudden reality by god she is beauty the forest the green lush thickets impenetrable dark illusive illusory a dream a destroyer saviour a wild thing a nerve fiber a coiled up bindle of masks and hard sharpnesses and soft fur purr
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Jul 13, 2017
Jul 13, 2017 at 5:55 PM UTC
purr
I wrote a short HePo series, an amalgamation of poetry and narrative. I tried to make a journey out of it for the reader in the classic Choose Your Own Adventure style in the sense that the onus was on the reader to continue the narrative instead of simply imploring the reader to turn the page. This is the 'Director's Cut' for those without copious free-time to invest in internet sleuthing. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it: Chapter One: https://hellopoetry.com/poem/4930049/1-hades-lament/ Chapter Two: https://hellopoetry.com/poem/4930058/2-no-where/ Chapter Three: https://hellopoetry.com/poem/4930062/3-death/ Chapter Four: https://hellopoetry.com/poem/4930078/4-a-day-goes-by/ Epilogue: https://kiloblitz.net/2024/12/09/life-of-nowhere/
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Jan 10, 2025
Jan 10, 2025 at 4:14 AM UTC
Nowheretown (badwords cut)
Gather round me, cursed patrons, I present to you a plague Fare best served with murky water and descriptions best left vague As a danger to ye all- I proffer cowards to depart- There is peril in the air: A guise of parables and art. Take heed now, sleuthing citizens, for clues lay all around What drove the maddened cabin boy to run the ship aground? Whose seductive fabrications made an honest man forswear? Beware the pen and paper, there are clever souls out there.
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Dec 5, 2011
Dec 5, 2011 at 4:08 AM UTC
Caution
It jumps along the clouded rows, two by two in sync Step by step it crouches down, waiting for its opportunity It scurries and jumps having a life of its own, as the light flickers on and off Never once stopping on its rampage. Creeping, sleuthing, mischievous in nature It runs amok, never faltering in its blurry stride Leaping, bounding, curious little thing It slowly dwindles down, pausing briefly in a haze. "Watch out!" It looks up warily "Go! Move!" It flickers briefly Then it sparks and resumes it tyrannic charade! Up and down, forwards and back, swishing too and fro It looks startled and never stops; will it ever slow? Left, right, and back again, kneeling to the ground It seems as if it wants out, this buggy little thing. It listens to the resonance, hearing the silence as if it speaks Booming, louder, LOUDER It grows and stills, bracing for impact Nothing, shadows, lapping at its feet Quiet, hush, do you hear it too? The rain that picks up beat? Feel the tempo, breath it in Embrace the pelting mewl Slowly, slowly, its starts to calm Reaching upwards Can you grasp it little thing? The moon the shines above. Stand up tall and take what's yours! A rustle, a sigh, "Are you there?" A flurry, a side-step, "Can you hear?" A mistake, too late, "Want to know?" A pounce, make haste, "The fool lies!" It stopped, this thing, that moved so fast It doesn't function, this thing, that's too bad Why did you stop mysterious thing? Was it the dark? Or was it fear? Wake up, wake up! Please wake up! I don't want to die yet...
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Jul 6, 2011
Jul 6, 2011 at 7:44 PM UTC
Fear That Mimics
It jumps along the clouded rows, two by two in sync Step by step it crouches down, waiting for its opportunity It scurries and jumps having a life of its own, as the light flickers on and off Never once stopping on its rampage. Creeping, sleuthing, mischievous in nature It runs amok, never faltering in its blurry stride Leaping, bounding, curious little thing It slowly dwindles down, pausing briefly in a haze. "Watch out!" It looks up warily "Go! Move!" It flickers briefly Then it sparks and resumes it tyrannic charade! Up and down, forwards and back, swishing too and fro It looks startled and never stops; will it ever slow? Left, right, and back again, kneeling to the ground It seems as if it wants out, this buggy little thing. It listens to the resonance, hearing the silence as if it speaks Booming, louder, LOUDER It grows and stills, bracing for impact Nothing, shadows, lapping at its feet Quiet, hush, do you hear it too? The rain that picks up beat? Feel the tempo, breath it in Embrace the pelting mewl Slowly, slowly, its starts to calm Reaching upwards Can you grasp it little thing? The moon the shines above. Stand up tall and take what's yours! A rustle, a sigh, "Are you there?" A flurry, a side-step, "Can you hear?" A mistake, too late, "Want to know?" A pounce, make haste, "The fool lies!" It stopped, this thing, that moved so fast It doesn't function, this thing, that's too bad Why did you stop mysterious thing? Was it the dark? Or was it fear? Wake up, wake up! Please wake up! I don't want to die yet...
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41
Everything was as it         always was, nothing had changed – youth sleuthing through         the heightened wet,         light gracing stonetop,                   and a pillowed streak                                          on western sky – and as before,         sun corrals light –         amoral, though not abnormal                         but for                         its leaning                                 on my weathered                                         heart
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Jan 18, 2013
Jan 18, 2013 at 8:46 PM UTC
The heat of that old wine
To watch with intent but not desire, his life passed      him on as he tries to explain which one he      would take to the afterlife if there is such, like a convergence at the tip of the horizon or a      humid evening in Pasay as pyrotechnics scrape      sky fashioned like acrobats. The breeze he needs      no longer. And then begins to disquiet the quiet     with the heavy burden of which he will then forget     when he starts to move all of a sudden in space,        capitulating afterlife again if there is such,  and if everything takes a sojourn into the bleakness, must I remind you that you are all      variations of the same absence. Remember when you had your name carved on wood as attendance     but not for long. You have escaped, locked in the        arms of a life that you thought was yours but      still isn't, leashed under the Sun. Bodies pulse   then fluctuate but not a sign of life. Words function      more in stillbirth. Never forget, as a dandelion      hovers and puts a smile on your dreary face, and a question in search for all available and naked     answers. Principles undermine caprice. Do not  adhere. Must I remind you that you are        someone else apart from who you think you are.   You have yourself straightened, tucked safely        like intent, not desire in all its voluminous and      vehement speeches annotating something unknown            to the behest of ourselves. If I were a house,   I am gratified by windows -- your mirage there        transfixed in a secluded spot, looking out    brimming with life as curtains oscillate as the       Earth breathes with you. If I were a house,    you would ransack everything with a sly mouth         packed with powerful narrative. How you    have done over, leaving everything undone,         moved off-tangent, under impossibly gray skies,     brindled in prayer. If I were a house,             doors slammed, speculative fabrications sleep   through evenings and mornings until no difference    is met -- you meant a word as if it had a lock        and the key, somewhere cold in the air of              sleuthing pains making me so, less than      this and more of a fractured house.
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Apr 15, 2016
Apr 15, 2016 at 7:43 AM UTC
If I am gratified by windows
To watch with intent but not desire, his life passed      him on as he tries to explain which one he      would take to the afterlife if there is such, like a convergence at the tip of the horizon or a      humid evening in Pasay as pyrotechnics scrape      sky fashioned like acrobats. The breeze he needs      no longer. And then begins to disquiet the quiet     with the heavy burden of which he will then forget     when he starts to move all of a sudden in space,        capitulating afterlife again if there is such,  and if everything takes a sojourn into the bleakness, must I remind you that you are all      variations of the same absence. Remember when you had your name carved on wood as attendance     but not for long. You have escaped, locked in the        arms of a life that you thought was yours but      still isn't, leashed under the Sun. Bodies pulse   then fluctuate but not a sign of life. Words function      more in stillbirth. Never forget, as a dandelion      hovers and puts a smile on your dreary face, and a question in search for all available and naked     answers. Principles undermine caprice. Do not  adhere. Must I remind you that you are        someone else apart from who you think you are.   You have yourself straightened, tucked safely        like intent, not desire in all its voluminous and      vehement speeches annotating something unknown            to the behest of ourselves. If I were a house,   I am gratified by windows -- your mirage there        transfixed in a secluded spot, looking out    brimming with life as curtains oscillate as the       Earth breathes with you. If I were a house,    you would ransack everything with a sly mouth         packed with powerful narrative. How you    have done over, leaving everything undone,         moved off-tangent, under impossibly gray skies,     brindled in prayer. If I were a house,             doors slammed, speculative fabrications sleep   through evenings and mornings until no difference    is met -- you meant a word as if it had a lock        and the key, somewhere cold in the air of              sleuthing pains making me so, less than      this and more of a fractured house.
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42
Why are you so concerned of these little things They dont amount to anything They are nothings But you see them as your everythings Its just things Your thoughts become something I want to rip off like clothing But you stand there seething Quick paced breathing Acting like its sheathing The words you are mouthing But i know you are wreathing You say nothing I try to be soothing My love once unswathing Replaced now with loathing My heart cut by your scything Just say anything Dont leave me sleuthing Questioning your worthing Your silence bites like you're teething Your intentions sit froathing You toy with me like a plaything I am something Whats left unearthing When i assume it will be scathing Leaving me sunbathing In your seething Of your nothings Which became your everything And am I anything? Just a little thing.
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Apr 4, 2014
Apr 4, 2014 at 3:58 AM UTC
Things
with what you had in your hands was simply an ellipsis to emptiness. Hands can only carry very little weight. and to have been caught in a virulent string of your Decembering noontime air – was it, just birds spry and singing or was it a wreathe of girls surrounding the ***** back to how it was to create light out of primitive engines? once it capitalizes, we are caught in this small circle. often retained, the detritus of such duel: once ripples are May and initialed the reprise of springtime, yet here we are only tropics, and cancer, and the heat is too much as to bear charge, your tired, sleuthing dog Django. rasp for the lift, was it before the collapse when both a yawn and a dance trembled into /stillness/
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Mar 2, 2016
Mar 2, 2016 at 11:35 PM UTC
A Reminder To Django
Shadow as proof of memory: the indistinct light spilling on the tablework together with smears of water. The smell of hair on his skin now is engraved as lesson. At the tip of her tongue is strange wonder. Said this inner life when it starts to crumble, you are witnessed in the soar. Bedraggled through the slope of the street, a hand, or a vestige. Her bony prominences of hand kneaded to retain as memory – to be swallowed by the full procession after; stroke as compromise: as if mapping all out. This is not how it should happen. It would happen when a safe distance is maintained by two bodies: the other sleuthing, the other moving in finite directions. An end will be revelry. – took whatever it was that cannot be contained by the body. Remember first when you took the dive      into the water, as if never to return again, together with silent fish and errant current.                                 Underneath the blue, light still casts shadow in interstices. Conveying weight      in water – your mouth as conduit, my body as land for the till and clearing. Or my longing. Or a soon to be discovered ambiguity. Skimming through your moving imperatives, telling me you cannot                commit to quantum movements. That in that event, the world will throw you syncopated images, that it will give rise to your hiding altitude and lob you to vertigo. Detachment as question. They must run. They must remain fugitives – to be unseen by the rest, and only themselves know their seams, symmetries, contours even in absences. Even the sky now is engorged with cirrus. Soon, like half-truth, or wildfire brash against green, the pallor will deface the atmosphere and give it unction of rain. Must they be reminded that they should run.                                But you are in a city, and it is impossible to not be thrown out of line by another     figure. Names will be given. Directories will be solicited. Voice necessary to halve                     this blatant quiet. And then to remind you of your sudden place, they will build a map or a bridge with their arms outstretched into the sky, looking at you with life brimming through       their eyes – the smoke of your departure once again curling in its fetal nature        against their brows. Everything you do and undo is a forecast of some liminal finality,   as if all of this is birthed by the same oblivion – and that all forgetfulness feels that same in different           cities that may or may not know your name. And that in changing season, there will always be         a hand that will be held even in its tiniest detail – all of the shadows once                       cast by your small body drunk in its proud altitude – we both know   whose hand I am    thinking of
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Apr 13, 2016
Apr 13, 2016 at 9:56 PM UTC
Distance as telling of something
Shadow as proof of memory: the indistinct light spilling on the tablework together with smears of water. The smell of hair on his skin now is engraved as lesson. At the tip of her tongue is strange wonder. Said this inner life when it starts to crumble, you are witnessed in the soar. Bedraggled through the slope of the street, a hand, or a vestige. Her bony prominences of hand kneaded to retain as memory – to be swallowed by the full procession after; stroke as compromise: as if mapping all out. This is not how it should happen. It would happen when a safe distance is maintained by two bodies: the other sleuthing, the other moving in finite directions. An end will be revelry. – took whatever it was that cannot be contained by the body. Remember first when you took the dive      into the water, as if never to return again, together with silent fish and errant current.                                 Underneath the blue, light still casts shadow in interstices. Conveying weight      in water – your mouth as conduit, my body as land for the till and clearing. Or my longing. Or a soon to be discovered ambiguity. Skimming through your moving imperatives, telling me you cannot                commit to quantum movements. That in that event, the world will throw you syncopated images, that it will give rise to your hiding altitude and lob you to vertigo. Detachment as question. They must run. They must remain fugitives – to be unseen by the rest, and only themselves know their seams, symmetries, contours even in absences. Even the sky now is engorged with cirrus. Soon, like half-truth, or wildfire brash against green, the pallor will deface the atmosphere and give it unction of rain. Must they be reminded that they should run.                                But you are in a city, and it is impossible to not be thrown out of line by another     figure. Names will be given. Directories will be solicited. Voice necessary to halve                     this blatant quiet. And then to remind you of your sudden place, they will build a map or a bridge with their arms outstretched into the sky, looking at you with life brimming through       their eyes – the smoke of your departure once again curling in its fetal nature        against their brows. Everything you do and undo is a forecast of some liminal finality,   as if all of this is birthed by the same oblivion – and that all forgetfulness feels that same in different           cities that may or may not know your name. And that in changing season, there will always be         a hand that will be held even in its tiniest detail – all of the shadows once                       cast by your small body drunk in its proud altitude – we both know   whose hand I am    thinking of
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20
there are many things trembling, disparate, conscious of their      spaces. things appear colossal when near. rife as tongued word,      an approximation – a misuse of time;      dealing more for sight than feeling, things snap in a very short distance.      fire burning glowers pale. lilt of a sentence in speech.       a luminescence is nearness. its impact, relative – brands it a different       form, recalls it, a clear warning as message.       what is yearned for is distant. mostly what’s ignored is as obvious       as want. you, both at the same time, undulating.
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Mar 10, 2016
Mar 10, 2016 at 4:57 AM UTC
Close: a sleuthing
I will trust you with all my crystallised ideals, escaping my throat with my broken chariot voice sleuthing amongst our pasts, while wanting to be in each others' present, now, tomorrow, and the next day this trust is a fragile thing I cannot give it to anyone nurture it, light my eyes, touch my hands, dance with my sleeping body the sun frames your beauty into this work of art, this black haired god, and you don't notice the rays but I always do trust me with your heart and hands and swallow your pride, desert your logic, and put your hands on my waist as you surrender to this forbidden kiss -cj
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Aug 21, 2014
Aug 21, 2014 at 11:19 PM UTC
kristallað
If you Dress for success Wear nice clothes People will talk Oh Your one of Those Putting on airs Supercilious Conceited Egotistical Know it all High and mighty Self important Attention seeker If you Dress simply People will talk You’re broke Have no money Lackadaisical Pitifully Poor If you are Successful Prosperous Thriving Flourishing People will talk Inauspicious Show off Rubbing in our face Purposely Making Us look Bad If you are Struggling Phlegmatic Unsentimental People will talk You’re Languishing Weak minded In The Wrong Place If you Speak your mind People will talk You are Superannuated Antiquated Archaic Obsolete Rude Various Opinions Willingly Conclude If you Stay Quiet Quiescent Indolent Languorous People will talk You’re sulking Brooding Pouting Self-deluding Tantrum Life is convoluted Opinions Are like Elbows Everybody Has one No matter What you Do today People Will always Have something To say Don’t let Negativity Rule the day Mind over matter Nonsense Should not have A voice A choice Useless chatter Ignorant Inconsequential Naysayers Are Irrelevant Players As long As God Is pleased With what You do And say Who cares What people Say In the Light of day Live God’s Way Inspired songs   1) it’s complicated 2002 By Avril Lavigne 2) complicated 2004 By Joss Ross
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May 3, 2025
May 3, 2025 at 10:24 PM UTC
Sleuthing Through Life Convoluted People Will Talk