Forget about money and power
Life is indeed a divine gift
From the Almighty God of every hour
From the Eternal Spirit which can lift
The entire Universe with one finger
A divine gift must be respected at all times
Cease all stupid and useless wars and crimes
Against Humanity, civility, decency and compassion
“Thou Shall Not Kill”. Seek salvation and benediction
Rather than the curses and anathemas of the Almighty
If you don’t pay, your grandchildren will pay – without mercy
Love is a true panacea and life, a divine treasure
Karma forgets nothing. Regardless, there will be a future
The wheel is turning, and, without a doubt, it will come to a stop somewhere.
Money and power, for their part, will lead you nowhere.
P.S. This poem is dedicated to my mother on the occasion of her birthday.
Thank you to God, Mom and Dad for the Gift of Life. Thank you for this longevity.
Happy Birthday to all those born in the month of April.
Copyright © April 2026, Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved
Hébert Logerie is the author of several books of poetry.
Wearisomes travelers; who is blind and I Am not blind?!
Passing through gildeds secular anathemas open markets
With countless sonorous voices calling from their ravens, hoodoo booths
Wishing to sell everyone these worldly visions amid obscures
Perverted material trinkets; placing them in front of narrows sight!?
Glittering these things; as unto a baby within its beloved crib....
Poisons to possess; unaware of the kings orders borne in piques
Hateful beginnings while Rachel continues to weep; innocence deceived ~
Precious infants caught amid a kingdoms wrath, spite and pain; amissful
Their sidebar moments wherein they only have themselves to blame yet
Someone must pay for sombers resipiscence in this, corrosives mistakes....
Vexations troubling beast of conscious; crippled by its mutations?!
******************************************************************
....“Terrestrial Journals” *
Hopefully whole and dreadfully broken.
Rejoiced hearts, shattered dreams, unbearable pain.
The destiny of one, the fate of a million, different
Kinds of faces, tremendous joy or excessive pain
Hangs, like a portrait on a rusty nail,
On the spurious promises of ephemeral minds.
An expeditious wall of wretched waves crashing
On my mind like planes on terra firma.
The promises I have failed to keep, cost
Me dearly, berating my heart and robbing my sleep.
Anathemas form in my mind, I punch my pillow,
Longing to escape my shame, etched in my feet.
My feelings are stronger than ever
Evanescent flings with rationalizations
Leave me plunged in new discomfort.
I cannot run from my actions
I have to turn myself in-
to the man I should become.
Promises are the colours
Expressing the art of my content.
I crumble, re-erect and re-assess
Myself. The final mask has not been cast,
To the soles of my feet.
People who mean nothing and those
Who mean all, unlock my heart
And make me feel everything.
Promises are the epitome of me,
Stumbling in fates' cage, I yearn
A whole heart, by an honored promise.
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