Best Loaders Poems
The Poets are our quintessential rebellious, rebels
The Maroons, the Braves, and the Daredevils
There is a ton of biases even in simple poetry
The Poets are known to be born freedom fighters
The unafraidheroes of hell, the sweet bees
Which can sing and sting, and deliver honey
Even in Poetry, we encounter weird free-loaders
Sick unabashed orators and pusillanimous braggers.
The Poets are born to be different, legally liberal
Awkwardly conservative, strong ass-kickers
Blunt truth seekers, and not obedient ass-kissers
Call the generals, the Police, and bring the arsenal
Of bloated words, and epithets; dumb or foolish attributes
Write verses and elegiac poems to pay countless tributes
To the sorry plagiarists, and to the ill-polished writers
Nobody cares anymore about the well-versed truth tellers.
Copyright © November 2017, Hebert Logerie, All rights reserved
Hébert Logerie is the author of several collections of poems.
angst, feelings, immigration, racism, retirement, slam, today,
My Cloud Nine by Didee ©
Eh, get off of my cloud you silly narrow minded fools
I never put out a ‘for rent sign’ and I make up the rules
My fluffy pure white cloud may leak if it becomes too reedy
Many free-loaders climbed today saying they are the needy
I was the original caretaker making this place float upright
It is my inspirational thoughts that bound and kept it tight
As a one-man sanctuary with a (all-time) lease signed My Cloud Nine
Circling here and there with no stops making for little lost time
I, I and I are just ‘we’ and carry on well with no house keeping
It is you, him, her, and other hitch-hikers causing this here meeting
Take all of you off and far beyond and be gone from this man’s space
And find another cloud to 'share' and feed upon from your own human race.
All dressed in matching shirts, belt buckles and ties,
The big black boots made from leather,
And their pride and joy, sitting upon their head,
With the biggest brim, leather strap and a feather.
There’s headers and tractors, sprayers and drills,
Harvesters, loaders, and ploughs,
And the thousands of farmers, from this region,
All walk around and casually browse,
This new equipment for barley, sugar, or wheat
For fields of canola or fruit,
And a special buy is the new dog box, that simply sits,
Right on the back of their ute.
This is the site where farmers meet once a year,
Wheeling and dealing a rural parlay,
The hundred hectare paddock, transformed into,
The Henty Farm Machinery Field day.
Along the eroding banks of the Minnesota River
Lies a tranquil scene that will make you shiver
Where nature and man join together as one
Entwined around debris that time has spun.
Acre upon acre farther than the eye can see
Hidden underground rusted metals flee
Bogged down by mud time stands still
Where trees and brush continue to spill.
A historical town with stories to tell
Of steamboats landing under yesterday’s spell
Where mills and founderies drowned in the past
Mastered by floods the river cast.
In the quiet river valley where eagles soar
The support of volunteers continue to pour
With trucks and skid loaders they renovate the land
Removing the debris once left by man.
The hum of equipment echoes throughout
Giving nature a chance to sprout
Where metal and tires layer each other
Showcasing debris nature and time will smother.
Piece by piece the past is removed
But the power of the river still carves its groove
Where the trains lone whistle echoes each day
And natures growth still guides the way.
Today the river continues to fight back
Claiming its territory with a sedimentary attack
Wave after wave it buries the past
Leaving behind a mark that will last.
Along the eroding banks of the Minnesota River
Lie remnants of the past that will make you shiver
Where nature and man grow together as one
And tales of progress are diligently spun.
Daddy does drive Deere's down
while working with wheeled
loaders, loud loader loading
the trash trailer, timely.
Ride rocky, ride(roof, roof)
backing, beeping, buzzing.
Funny isn't it?
The day I don't save your seats.
Suddenly I'm a ghost,
It's the day you start ignoring me.
And I realized you never truly cared about being my friend.
None of my efforts mattered in the end.
It was only those front row seats.
Sheesh.
I'm still pricking my own finger by letting you in.
You've only broken me before and still I let you win.
Tell me why you always make it end up like this?
With you on your pedestal,
And me as your foundation.
I'm still trying to fix your problems
Even though they aren't mine.
Why must it end like this every time?
The next day you asked for my answers.
I didn't even hesitate.
Said that you had a tough weekend.
They still weren't yours to take,
But I wanted to help you so badly,
I thought that you'd like me more.
The day after that you ignored me,
And we had identical scores.
I've seen it coming for a while.
I started changing myself around you.
I felt that if I was to be accepted,
I had to be pretty and popular too.
And those days when you braided my hair,
Didn't know I was being used.
Thought you were just being nice,
But I am not yours to abuse.
You stack your victims in towers.
Tear them down after building them up.
Use your excuses as power,
And then you put yourself on top.
When the larynx shifts
(a caviling bone) darts for cover,
as if caught in its bell tower
with a high-powered rifle.
I see his desperate need to talk.
those damn people,
ingrates, free-loaders, punks.
Salty epithets march up and down his throat,
as if menacing the very fabric
of his Adam's apple.
Behind his eyes
the damned are piling up.
We are out here alone,
just him and me, and this anger
strangling his windpipe.
He once carried a buddy
out of a kill zone,
but not much of himself,
just this bitter slanguage.
I want to grab hold of him,
hug him close,
let him talk it all out,
allow his words
to spill out of their foxholes.
Then break some ciabatta with him,
some Ligurian olives and chianti,
share a dirty joke
between wine sweetened gums.
As democratic minds continue to work LeftBrain Yang-hard and strong,
yet resiliently paced,
and RightBrain Yin-smart,
flowing smooth,
resonantly graced,
Earth grows deeper and wider polypathic outcomes
restoring peace
by non-violently responding to past climate injustices,
Inviting patient good humor
despite wounded free-loaders stingy past
without sufficient faith in positive therapeutic investment.
Not begrudged investment in silent bad faith,
expecting only more negative Win/Lose compromises,
eventually devolving into economic
and ecological gridlock losses,
total eco- and ego-systemic stuckness,
personally and politically disempowered,
disengaged,
failing to thrive.
Deterring aggression is unlikely
to those investing in and with swords,
automated rifle associations,
marketing sales of fear-mongering weapons
and walls
and martial laws.
Deterring violent aggression is more likely
to those investing in and with redemptive WinWin compassion,
cooperative global health associations,
advocating and mentoring gospel communion experiences,
WinWin wealth of grace,
love,
compassion,
trust
as LeftBrain defined,
RightBrain refined,
by not LoseLose absence of health,
trust,
compassion,
grace under Win/Lose fire
of competitive Business As Capital Infested,
over-invested,
under-arrested
by webs of resilient cooperative ownership
management
governance
responsibility
healthy wealth accountability,
historical recountability
RealTalk,
in 4D LeftBrain YangSpace,
RightBrain wall-less webbing bilateral YinTime.
It's with decision that I put the lid on time
Sitting with all my might
Calling you over with heavy appliances,
washing machines, refrigerators,
piling them up on my lap as time bumps upward and threatens to throw me off.
"Bring me the heavy machinery!"
You hauling chains, greased, slippery
with bulldozers and front loaders ripping up floor boards behind you.
"On my lap! On my lap!", I scream over the noise of time.
You can barely see my eye whites between the coils, cogs, bolts and metal
and yet I'm still yelling: "More! We need MORE!"
You, running with tired legs, veins pumping purple and roped around calves,
using crowbars to lift buildings up by their foundation, concrete dust for city blocks
Towing them on the back of semi's with headlights glowing angry at the weight
"Just pile them here - Quick Quick!"
(Time changing strategy with slippery fingers making their way paper thin
under all sides of the lid)
You, exhausted, crumpled in a heap on the floor with an apologetic look in your eyes at an inability to bring me even a
feather's weight more.
Me, with the instant knowledge that no amount of weight will work, suddenly screaming to you:
"Run! Don't look back!! RUN!!!"
It's with a sense of relief that I see the soles of your feet clear the door just as time explodes:
lodging buildings in trees, heavy machinery engines in clouds,
sinking refrigerators to the sea, and leaving me in a wake of old.
Time, as free as it should rightly be, smiles a winner's smile as it puts the lid on me.
The first snow of the year, fell hard and fast
Creating a winter wonderland to last
Snow flakes danced as wispy winds blew
Snow drifts piled three feet high and flew
Capturing the view so breathtaking, I could've cried
Misting eyes held, by nature’s design,
A beautiful scenery as those seen in dreams
The schools were closed, the theaters too
Most stayed at home, hardly a soul on the streets
Tall oak branches laden with snow
Gave in to gravity’s continuous pull
The power was out, all restaurants closed
Salt trucks, front end loaders plowed the roads
The fireplace lit brought much glow and warmth
When sleep strolled in, I laid down to dream, and
Thought, “tomorrow is another day”.
School is out everybody going to have some fun!!
Fall break oh so nice
My home is no longer quiet
Bleep, bleep, zip, zap(Bet you can't guess what this is)
Sirens going horns blowing
Grandson comes to stay
Washes all the blues away
Little boys with toys that are noisy
Like loaders that push up daisy
Little boys soon will be grown
Out with a job and on their own
Wife, children and responsibilites
That is life with realities
countryside's bird sounds
in morn's restful quiet peace
traffic starts flowing
sweet mood walks away until
hot sun drops in western sky
daybreak on the porch
swallows chirp, doves coo, crows caw....
those front loaders crank
Socialism
My Opinion
Tom
8-1-2019
Politicians promise anything to get, or stay, elected,
Socialism won’t save the world and should be rejected.
They endeavor to convince others that their role is in sync,
Armed with opinions, and like armpits, most stink.
I wonder how many promises we might see fulfilled,
By those pushing socialism, some quite skilled.
We elect foul mouthed people who should be curbside,
As our country continues on its downhill slide.
The things socialist’s espouse appear downright crazy,
Intended to capture the vote, of the free seeking lazy.
There are no free lunches, affixed to everything is a price,
While the free loaders pay nothing, others will sacrifice.
You can’t eradicate poverty by bringing the rich down,
This kind of socialist thinking is just a legal shakedown.
Just take from the haves because a have not feels slighted,
Give them a seat at the table so they won’t feel uninvited.
The nectar feeder is refilled,
The humming birds have found it.
They dip and dive, compete for space
In ecstasy around it.
They soar with swift abandon
As thought their route preplanned.
How they avoid collisions,
I cannot understand.
Two airplanes flying close as this
Would end up in disaster;
But they zoom by in narrow miss
And just keep going faster.
They glisten in the sunlight
Like dew-dipped darting flowers.
Their rainbow hued maneuvers
Keep me entranced for hours.
These bundles of bottled energy
Stop often for refill.
I furnish their fuel freely
And never send a bill.
By: Joyce Johnson
They dug a deep hole and
Made a tunnel at the end
They made a
large woodchimmey
And covered the hole
With logs and covered
The logs with iron plates
The had six vents that
Came to the surface
They used bobcats
And frontend loaders
To make the field have
Depth
Walking from the back
Of the circle you felt
Like you were walking
In the Roman Collusium
They made the statium using logs
Two by fours steel beams
Pvc pipes
They sewed together
Ten large tents to make the
Top of the ceiling
They wanted a uniform
Top, the engereeners
Would be awarded for
There craftiness
This might be the beganning
Of some of these guys careers
We want to have this type
Of night for all to remember
We used folding chairs
The heat coming from the
Ground wasbscented
By hickory. They had
Grills below
Were some folks
Cooked bbq
Generates made lights
And the soundmen for the evening