Best Manipulative Poems
You see me, I know
Caked with deepen shade
Everyone teased, but you hurt the worst
When you ignored and walked away
Now limping with a heartache
Disadvantaged with a broken soul
Those physical abuse wasn't their game
Teasing and taunts satisfied their toll
Thought you would stand up
And defend the scars under my skin
But instead joining in on the torment
Egging on bruises within
Trust was belittled
By the one that meant most
Dissolving friendship with a knife in back
Those things happen I suppose
The crude words spread
Like a diesese so untrue
But the worst ones that cut me
Were the lies sprawled out by you
I forgive you for punches
You seemed to throw when you spoke
And every kick your heels dug in
Solid as your choice words choke
Still have marks that had tried to heal
But decided to remain as scars
And inside my soul you'll see how
Still floating around are your remarks
Never crossed my mind
That we'd be like this today
The insults you breath in are dangerous
Bullying to fit in another day
your sense of humor
the darkness drifts through your eyes -
never with a lie
06.10. 2022
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Fast forward, effort always towards its own
that crisis, intervention, scores self honed
as cover-up becomes the message stoned,
the smallest to the large, their brink is known!
Manipulative, truth as hard as bone
that fleshly intervention, yours, is prone
to that denying session of false tone,
a lie, a small concession, takes you home!
Manipulate, aggression thereby flown
to aggravate recession, scuttles grown,
how soon the battle wages, without shown
of truth's conditions, pages stifled, blown!
Manipulated, soldiering's resound
to save the Nation stages, first impound
as cruel effigy ~ the struggle's crown
is from a distant shoreline, their compound!
No mystery, the guidelines of deceit
have long been brandished, ominous repeat
together meant, now solemn to the feat
opposing as the answer, not retreat ~
Manipulate ~ that Spirit . . . must be beat!
Believe it or not, their ubiquitous webs
Are everywhere; they are the dictators
Who kidnap, maim, torture and kill teachers,
Poets, ordinary folks and babies in their cribs.
They rob and ransack innocent citizens,
Steal elections and after a lifetime in power,
Categorically refuse to leave the tower.
Very often, they do everything to muzzle the chickens.
Monsters are constantly in disguise,
They are well dressed, they wear uniforms,
They know how to blend and to socialize.
Monsters, at every turn, want to control the dorms,
Manipulate the data, fool the media,
Hire henchmen and spread false propaganda.
Monsters behave like manipulative magicians,
They suck the air out of the innocent bystanders,
Befriend desperate and impoverished musicians,
Surreptitiously inveigle the nosy neighbors
To exteriorize their feelings, and they spy and lie,
At every opportunity; and at every occasion,
They bury their preys alive in the dungeon.
Believe it or not, monsters are like rats,
Their appetite is insatiable; they crawl under the mats,
Bite babies, steal millions, and hide the money in overseas coffers;
They rape young boys and girls, and destroy the future of many.
The revolution was not done right ‘cause the kidnappers,
The pick pockets and their accomplices are still under the tree.
Those raccoons, those bedbugs don't go away easily.
They outlive the exterminators. These goons are really bright.
Be cautious, because they are out there day and night,
Operating at every meeting and at every party.
Believe it or not, all bad things must come to an end:
The lies, the crimes, and the arbitrary executions of the church band.
Copyright© February 2012, Hebert Logerie, All Rights Reserved
Hébert Logerie is the author of several poetry books:
The spark of trouble finds its home,
In hearts that like to stir and roam.
An instigator, quiet, still,
Is master of a hidden will.
They do not throw the first granite stone,
But leave the seed for us to own;
They craft a tale, they plant a doubt,
Then turn to watch it play all out.
They hunger for a sense of might,
To control the turning of the light.
Perhaps a boredom, cold and deep,
A harvest that they love to reap.
To see the chaos start to bloom,
And feel the weight within the room,
While they stand back, untouched, serene,
The monster inside the whole machine.
They weave a thread of "truth" so thin,
It draws the unsuspecting in.
A whispered word, a knowing look,
A page torn from a private book.
"I thought you knew," they softly say,
To nudge the pieces into play.
They hold their hands above the fray,
While others tear the peace away.
They never own the fire they light,
They only fuel the darkest night.
But to kill the flame and end the game,
You must refuse to speak their name.
Bring what they hide into the sun,
Demand the source; ask for the one
Who spoke the lie—demand the proof,
And watch them crumble ‘neath the roof.
Stand firm and cold, a quiet wall;
Do not let rumors rise or fall.
If they approach with tales of spite,
Just turn away and end the night.
When they are starved of all the feed,
They lose the power that they need;
Refuse the bait, the hook, the line,
And watch their foolish influence decline.