Questions of doom averted.
new sound waves crash under morning meditation.
Searching for the words of God in subway mix tapes and under coffee shop tables.
Allowing my mind to wander to distant lands of ancient Empty graves.
Sparrows sing each new day a song of praise to God.
Dogs bark in the distance as I hear Jon talking with Mindy
Thirsting for living water I seek Yeshua Christ known as God made Flesh.
Clocks tick and water drips as my coffee gets cold.
Sleep escaped me last night and now a new day is here.
Lily is ever talking much today.
She can hear things Brian cannot like Jon and Mindy arguing in the distance through the open door.
September is soon beginning a time of in between times where summer is not fully over yet fall has not truly started.
two thousand and twenty six years since Yeshua was born
troubling sounds outside I do not like to hear.
September eleventh is the highest watch day of the year for a possible rapture.
If the Rapture happens this year Turn to Jesus before it is too late.
stealing booty arti-
fact oats from a
cut-up maybe's micro buy-one
brain cache is like abhorring a
clashing washboard
knight in your weird new
beer view mirror
Glitches of A Broken System
Ongoing support fiber with the Universe.
Ticket #001: Common Sense
Status: Depreciated since 1999
User: Common Sense won't boot up in group settings.
Tech: We replaced that feature with " Comment Section "
Workaround: Nod slowly and back away
Ðo? not feed the trolls. Ticket Closed
Ticket #404 The Middle Class I submitted a ticket to the Universe last Tuesday.
Subject line: Existence.exe keeps crashing at rent.
Tech: " Have you tried being born to different parents?".
Clear your cache of dreams and restart your bootstrap, upgrade to Premium Reality.
Note" Premium not available in Zipcode 12345
Ticket#503: Healthcare
User: " I clicked "see doctor" and got an error " Insurance not found.
Tech: " That's a feature, not a bug. Please
Sacrifice 3 chickens and 1 deductible to continue.
Estimated wait time: Your whole life
Ticket #006: Climate
User: Planet. Earth is overheating. Urgent!!!
Tech: Did you try turning it off and on again?
We recommend recycling. Have a nice day.
Auto-closed due to inactivity.
.
edvard doesn't
nope
therefore
into hat
thuh
edvard digz
into
jamez' uv
cache
engramz
um
we think
don't
not until thuh psyche eval
shrink'did
")
They say the moon flight was staged,
The stars forgot to take their place,
A flag waved in the vacuum of space
The shadows leaned the wrong way too,
The rocket roared, the cameras rolled,
The greatest lie the world was told;
With half a million duped to pray
That 'one small step' was human made.
Why fake a landing? For fame no doubt—
Beat the Soviets, keep Kennedy's promise
Far cheaper to stage than to blast off;
Hoodwinked brains love loony dreams.
A soundstage moon, a painted sky,
Cross hairs appear in the photos
Which all appear too clear-cut
Lighting cache was always just right.
And why’d it take so long to return?
If it was so easy where's the replay?
The silly recent flyby was so easy to fake
Any kid could have done it proud.
But science fakes so many things—
Vaccines, weather, cures, and aliens;
We're all so gullible for a story
Spread as scam jam on wholemeal toast.
So bless the stage, the moon, the men,
The myth that gave hope to a Nation
That we might someday flee to Mars
To live our lovely scams with Elon Musk stars.
Peaked like a gambrel roof.
Gambling for dun gold.
Axion, axiom, aloof.
Red ochre, old sold.
Cairn by the roadside?
Stacked rocks, a cache prepared.
Treasure someone tried to hide?
Looks like he got scared.
Snow, cover the landscape.
O ice, freeze others out.
Mellifluous, monster? Gape.
Crowd, you saw the rout.
Wasp and hornet, stingers sharp?
Yes, and barbed as well.
Angel, do you play the harp?
Demon, dwell in hell?
Chaos, birth in me a star!
Dancing free and fine!
Gaze, through haze! From near to far!
Belladonna, wine!
Resonance, a game of chance?
Let us play to win.
Downpour, between drops we dance!
Flippers, flick thy fin!
Ichor, wicker, nicker.
Thicker than water, blood?
Well, it's in the liquor.
Get sicker, O my brood.
Xiphoid, grip and push upward.
Solar plexus, wait.
Guts of mine, thy life is hard.
Fortunate, O fate?
A teen aesthete
wanders to the soul bartering crossroads
down from where the bus let off.
Gathering weeds and stray flowers
of windblown cemetery seeds.
To make a shrine, self inspired,
at the wayside of God.
To lend by ritual, and evocation
the passage of their development
lonely and gifted.
Shrugging off the ubiquitous pack
and taking from within; magical finds
discovered during cherished playtimes.
Collected in a self-adorned shoe box.
Things gleaned from treasure hunts
and fantastic pursuits.
A cache of light:
cat's eye marbles, chandelier crystals,
blue, clear, and green, sea glass
rolled and shaped by cousin sands.
Dull till spit wetted, salt licked.
By wave defying bravery
a pluck of pebble or sunny glimmer.
Run to Mom for her glamor, and approval.
Brought home in playful pockets
from beaches and picnics.
Now artfully laid in tearful grief.
Creating a mosaic of introspection.
The last to set in place
a paint chipped, wooden, geometric
puzzle piece.
An icon of fractured lullabies.
A dream ending; bare feet,
wet pajamas, and a long car ride.
Mom in teardrop
Memories on cheek
A moment in movie
Moving emotion
d
o
w
n
w
a
r
d
I need those tearjerkers
I need to feel the past
Not merely leave it
All behind
My mom’s not in the ashes
She’s in my heart’s cache
Dreams and reality mix
A cross upon my mother’s chest
Have I left that room
I have room left for joy and sorrow
An elixir I drink during the holidays
f
o
r
w
a
r
d
Dad’s legs move him
Once again in someone else’s car
He goes where he doesn’t want to
But he’s still glad to be with family
Is he still back in hospice
Waiting for Mom
To die
To kiss her one last time
To collect her rings
Which he pleasured to give her
When he proposed and married her
Did I tell you, he proposed on the railroad tracks?
It’s Christmas Eve
Time stops us in our tracks
A baby born, a Son executed, our hope
Our
h
o
p
e
My mom’s middle name
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
One paw
on frozen bark,
he stares
at his empty cache~
acorn thefts long spent.
Freakin' wintertime he mutters,
fluffing fur
against the wind,
while snow
laughs
back in silence.
A kingdom of buried treasure,
and not a dang thing to chew.
What’s a squirrel to do?
Old death makes everybody dry and sad
Death even makes kings who are grumpy and mad
Absolutely powerless, helpless and useless
Death makes us mute, motionless, lifeless and deaf
In the darkest, hottest part of the crater
And deep within the brightest cell or cache of the chamber
Where too much light
Blinds the retinas and this is never right
Death makes everybody lifeless, powerless and useless
Death, death! Nobody can get used to you
Death, death! You are a fool too
For stealing life which is vitally precious
Death, death! You are backward and too ambitious
Nobody can get used to your ways
Because you make us part ways
Old death! You never show compassion and pity
You are wicked, greedy, sick and crazy
Old death, will you leave us alone?
Please use a different style and tone
Death, death, Oh! Old Death
Old death, you make everybody weak and mad
Old death, you make us worthless, lifeless and sad
Death, death, old death, please go away
Go, go away, please go, go find your way.
Copyright © April 25, 2025 Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved
Hébert Logerie is the author of several books of poetry.
Treasure cache in a basement.
Trophies of past passions exhibited with pride.
Years of boasting are secured.
Wordku: 5-7-5 words
AP: Honorable Mention 2025
Roar of leaf blowers.
Rippling of rafts.
Reticence of leaping
into a pile of molten gold -
a sea of Autumnal cache.
Childhood immunity;
don’t look at the grandmother;
giddy, a grand finale,
as she defiantly leaps.
Oh! Did I mention,
she’s fast asleep?
Old granny succumbs
with metaphoric salts,
as the toddler lands
on her loving lap,
awakening granny
to the warmest day.
Lord,
I’ve forgotten the password of my heart.
I tried three times,
and now my soul is temporarily locked.
Please send me a verification code,
a dream, a rain,
or at least a knock on the window,
so I know you still exist.
I opened the Holy Book in my browser,
but it loaded slowly,
and the angel on the right is on leave.
I write prayers in the chat,
but the reply comes
with an automatic message:
“Your request is important to us.”
Time hurts me, Lord,
like an endless notification.
My longing refreshes itself,
my hopes empty from the cache.
And yet,
when night falls and heaven is quiet,
I feel you refreshing me within,
like a Father who still believes
the prodigal son will log in again.
"Those we love don't go away they walk beside us every day"
Years may come and years may go
still the memory of her scent still flows
"I'm praying in an angel, just for you"
she'd say then whisper, "I love you"
Echoes of her love still stir in me
beneath the silent hush of her carefree
The story of our lives, cache of gold
hidden in my chest never to grow old
Years may come and years may go
she walks beside me every day.
Those we love don't go away,
inside our hearts they always stay.
I don’t need thunder
to feel the rumble,
nor lightning
to sense storm’s flash
nor icons to tear
nor statues to bleed
to realize within all
creation, God’s sacred
omnipotent cache --
Yet, while in the smallest
unlimited vastness –
and in the deepest fathomless
depth --
admittedly, all by grace of Almighty
God,
little joy would remain for me
in life I am certain, if denied
here and above
our simple
very flawed
expressions of
human love….
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