"Who killed them?"
"Who killed whom?" Insp. Shokie continued,
"Eldest daughter bludgeoned by father,
Younger twins sneaked about a lover,
They were poisoned by mother,
She was strangled by lover, hers.
Husband and lover are in that pyre.
An #innocent soul? Maybe."
#vss365
The ransom note said : 10 million in the alley behind where #snow melts.
"Snow in the tropics?"
Insp. Shokie snored.
"Boss, it's the Chief Minister's kid."
"Who is the owner of the hotel Where Snow Melts?"
"The Chief Minister's father-in-law. Oh!"
"Oh indeed!"
#vssmystery
Too old to have hope,
Too young to forget:
Walking arm-in-arm
Feeling self-conscious,
In aloof embrace,
The impotence killed,
Loneliness I chose;
With her, crowds vanished,
Always on passion's #crest,
Trust, desire, safe risk,
I know not, till then
No false company.
#vss365
"Relationships are about trust. If you have to play detective, then it's time to move on."
"Beguiling quote. And a bad #omen for the detective. On whose blog?" Insp. Shokie asked.
"The wife's. Should we theorize before we have a victim?"
"Find the source of mistrust."
#vssmurder
Why do gods come here
To deal with the likes of us,
To be forgotten?
Why do heroes fight
To send millions to their graves,
To be remembered?
Why do we support,
That selective pick and choose,
To discard many?
Why do we not stop
The repeat of history,
For resurrection?
When a common man
Can afford
A hit on another:
(10 for broken bones,
20 for hospitalization,
50 for 10 hacks,
75 for daytime public kill,
100 for 2, special discount)
They say,
"It's the Golden Age."
Or
"Everything Is Ok now."
Last weekend,
I tried a party--
In gruesome reality,
Not happy virtuality.
For a while,
I was fine--
Mostly silent,
A dumb charade,
With mental (dis)likes;
Forced to speak,
I tried emojis
With subtitles.
In writer-reader mode,
I saw Shokie frowning,
Where's the murder/story;
Cut the scenes
Leading nowhere,
Chekhov whispered;
How about poetry,
A la Gerontion or Wilfred Owen
In a trench full of grey guys.
I went through
A trashcan of memories
To get through the night.
I must have endured
Parties with guys,
Alas! Without a byte stored;
This lot was decent,
Friendship is tiring,
Scars of worse still itch;
The absence of women,
Is that why I searched
For the logout button;
But then, with those
The promise of tomorrow
Is the impossible requisite.
Don't you laugh, my love,
I don't need your clone,
How well I cope without you.
