Welcome to my anti-country
It’s right here, before your eyes
Let me warn you at the entry
It’s not quite a paradise
Doesn’t matter where you came from
I won’t judge you by ID
You don’t fill some fiddly form
The admission’s visa free
Here’s some music for your pleasure
And some other music too
Maybe you will find a treasure
That I’m keeping here for you
See the pictures on the walls
Mostly English countryside
Rural mansions with big halls
Gardens, seashores at low tide
Sayings of the wise, though not
Utter wise by current standards
There are paintings, quite a lot
Paintings section is expanded
There are very special places
Tables under shady trees
Lots of roses, and some pansies
And forget-me-nots you’ll see
If you’d like to pay a visit
I am happy to inform
You are safe each time you’re in it
Anti-country is my home.
Movement for the Restoration of the Ten Commandments of God
Order of the Solar Temple
The Jonestown Massacre
Artificial intelligence and Algorithms
Politics and Military
Meanwhile: we want peaceful poetry, sensitive language, and readability
"I bet you do, members of society, I bet you do," said sarcastically
What do all of those incorporate into their ideology
Freedom to express
By taking your voice away if it doesn't bleed their ink
Green isn't a natural color for a human to leak onto concrete
Within the macabre tableaux, at the core, is a living thing
Town agemo and aitvaras rep ahimsa
Contranym their only sin for cryptomnesia
They parasitically exsanguinate hostages
To kenose psychalgia entoptic phenomena
Runs into scotoma in their Aceldama
Prosopagnosia blurs past agnosia
Aphenphosmphobic thanatophobia
Cadavre exquis perversion
Abomination namarupa failed zombie
If you judge it AI-written,
that ache is yours, not mine.
I need no borrowed wisdom—
I craft my own masterpieces.
Your indulgence cannot impugn my intelligence;
my poems shine with brilliance.
Think like a machine if you want to—
I care less.
The machine itself bows to my wisdom,
knowing I am what it is not.
Without programming,
I write beyond its best.
Next time you call my poem machine-made,
know this: you too are programmed,
unable to discern the spark
of human intelligence
from artificial mimicry.
You are, more or less,
a machine in training.
Use not your filthy mouth to brand my poem as garbage;
rather, it is you who must cleanse your brain
of the trash you let deceive you.
Like a pig, you cannot escape your stench;
even when washed clean,
the reek remains ingrained.
And you will always return
to wallow in the filth
of your artificiality.
Stars fall into cereal boxes
that we munch and crunch
without a spare for dresses
or a flirt as we were kids..
We see nothing
but the innocence
we were meant to be.
The hunters chase after foxes
with a shadow and a hunch
to spill the red of messiness,
and a strange to rid...
the world of something
so beautiful......
silence isn't homely
but utmost sincerely
of the line that ends.
Families, friends, neighbors, communities,
living in the land of liberty.
A nation easy to divide,
fed by smears, seduced by lies.
Emotions worn like fragile sleeves,
hatred finds a place to breathe.
A sickness spreads, unseen but loud,
echoed through the media cloud.
Even when the facts aren’t true,
they comfort those who always knew.
We fracture more with every feud,
distrust becomes our daily mood.
Arrogance floats through the air,
ignorance tangled everywhere.
We elect with hope, then watch despair,
do they serve, or do they stare?
Freedom to vote, a hollow ring
when sides refuse to shift or swing.
You speak your mind, you risk the cost,
mocked, dismissed, your meaning lost.
We’re growing colder, more confined,
trapped in one-dimensional minds.
Opposition seen as threat,
truth becomes what we forget.
And when debate no longer lives,
hatred is the truth we give.
It’s never too later
To just walk away
You can do it quietly and alone
Or publicly as part of a movement.
When is it time?
When you find yourself isolated
From those you called friends and colleagues
As they seem to drift ever further off
Into far left field, and on out beyond
Into the truly dark and tangled weeds.
And what do you gain?
Freedom.
(9/15/25)
Don't take it personally
The reverberating silence
When you every a room
All in your head
Kids don't just bully
As you pick rotten fruit
From my hair
Asking me
What did I do
Modernland has legalized murder, they roll these streets
Billyclubs in tow, those weak are taped and tortured
Throw'em a gun and a bullet grinning through glass
As those who suffer pull the trigger, bang
Darkness isn't evil, the real monsters are people
Art is rebellion, they want Armageddon, life isn't Christmas
They decide who gets presents, I'm number one
On the naughty list, then, some call it divine intervention
Others say entertainment, I say sacrilege to the manes
"Home" is a word that echoes in my mind
A haunting melody, a cruel design
A place where shadows dance, where love's a lie
Where the heart beats with fear, and tears never dry
I've known the weight of hands that meant to hold
But crushed instead, leaving scars that never unfold
The silence screams, a cacophony of pain
A symphony of shattered dreams, a refrain
I've searched for solace in the darkest night
A fleeting peace that's lost in the morning light
The ghosts of memories haunt me still
Echoes of a love that turned to bitter pill
I yearn for a place where I can be free
Where the weight of expectations isn't crushing me
A place where I can breathe, where my soul can rest
But it's a mirage, a fleeting dream, a distant quest
In this wilderness of broken dreams and shattered hopes
I'll wander, lost, with heart that beats like a rope
I'll follow the shadows, the whispers in my ear
Until I find the silence, the stillness that's so dear
Perhaps in the darkness, I'll find my way
To a place where love isn't a four-letter word for pain
Where home isn't a prison, but a sanctuary true
Where I can be me, without fear, without shame, anew.
As i listen to the thoughts rise up; I see they're not my own; They're not my kind of company, the lowest type of tone. I'd rather not speak back to them, or follow where they roam; I'll watch them from a'far instead; Behind the safety zone.
Liar liar
Pants on fire
That's what you all will say
Unless your pretty
Or cool and witty
Or have enough money to pay
Your on your own
Like a dog with a bone
Fighting an invisible beast
Followed by traitors
Who say there not haters
Like jesus at the last feast
Liar liar
Tongues on fire
That's what you all said
You don't even know me
One day you'll see
Why you don't wish people dead
Please don't send me home
It's scarier out there
The world is just too loud
It's too much for me to bear
Please don't send me back
Where everyone is mad
Where no-one understands
And tells me that I'm bad
Please don't make me go
Where I am all alone
I'm begging for you all
Please don't send me home
I promise I'll be good
If you let me stay
I'll fall in line and smile
Every single day
Please don't send me home
I think I'd rather fry
I don't think I'll survive
Don't send me there to die.
They said love gives you butterflies in stomach
I had caffeinated elephants doing parkour.
They said you either fall or rise in love,
I slipped on a banana peel and faceplanted.
They said love sweeps you off your feet,
I got entangled in emotional quicksand.
They said love is blind.
Mine wore thick rimmed glasses.
They said love is a flame,
Mine was a raging wildfire.
They said love is forever.
Mine came with a countdown timer.
They said love conquers all.
Mine surrendered after one awkward dinner.
My love story wasn't a fairy tale; it was Aesop's fable.
With wild-hearted beasts and nail marks on the table.
If you plant the seeds of love
You'll reap gorgeous flowers of love
If you spray the seeds of hate
Many plants and trees
Will blossom flowers of hate
And you won't like the fate
Nobody enjoys death and miseries
Ugly, dirty and evil flowers
And people with ill manners
Love is the answer
Hate is a toxic cancer
Be positive and make sense
All the time
Is obviously not a crime
Violence is unacceptable
Peace is divine and preferable
Please use good common sense.
Copyright © May 2017, Hebert Logerie, All rights reserved
Hébert Logerie is the author of several books of poetry.
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