You
Don't
Need
Civil
Rights
With
Christ
I’ve tried to wrap my arms around the drivel
that any war might be deemed ‘civil’
~ the only term that comes to mind is evil
we fought over crumbs
and who touched whose side of space
daily civil wars
yet somehow we still grew up
laughing at the same nonsense
“Alive on the page
Necessary in the mouth”
What dare you say
This poem is about
Righting all wrongs
A civil rights poem
Writing a song
For a sing along
Is it the speed
Of the best light
Speaking to me
The rest of the night
Cadence of brilliance
Dipped in blue ink
Raspberry resilience
Grasping literacy dream
A son of Georgia
I was a chemist by trade
'Unbossed and Unbought'
'The Movement' gave me a call
I left the lab and I marched
No war deserves the title, ‘Civil’
~ every war's sacrificial
The world is burning
We all look on
Some fan the flames
and some are playing games
People's lives are worth less than cattle
They shake, they stomp, they rattle the cage
Where within they've placed
His, her, and your name
They take their guns and wave them in your face
Not one, not two, but Eight!
Take their place
Performing a ritual in the public face
In private, who knows-
We ALL know
What happens to those of another race
Can't you see?
The flag of the land of the free is burning
Is the page finally turning?
The vestiges of slavery methodically remain.
Blacks are being killed in broad daylight daily.
Blacks are discriminating against systematically.
Systemic racism is a cancer with a behemothic pain.
The symbols of slavery refuse to evanesce like
A shameful cloud lazily hovering over our head.
There is too much hypocrisy around the sad bed,
And too many racist tail-waggers are ready to attack.
Too many unwell uncle toms are not emancipated.
This is still a highly peculiar world. People don't mean
What they mean and many impostors can't be trusted.
The struggle must continue. Fights are never clean.
Backstabbing is prevalent. The injustice is unbearable.
Life is precious and priceless and yet hope is inevitable.
Copyright © June 2020, Hébert Logerie, all rights reserved.
Hébert Logerie is the author of several collections of poems.
Brother Martin Luther King Jr. did not die in vain
Heck no, the Kennedy brothers did not die in vain
And countless brave protesters did not die in vain.
The fight goes on, the struggle goes on.
It not easy to think and to write about the pain
Which our ancestors have endured over the years
They fought and died for this land of opportunities.
The fight goes on, the struggle goes on.
Heck no, Brother Malcolm X did not die in vain
Many brave young fighters did not die in vain
It is a shame that many agitators are so insane.
The fight goes on, the struggle goes on.
Jesus Christ was crucified and died for our sins
Presently, we cannot have a resurgence of gangs
Racist gangsters roaming in our lives like crazy ants.
The fight goes on, the struggle goes on.
Copyright© August 2017 Logerie Hebert, all rights reserved
Hebert Logerie is the author of several books of poems.
What does it mean to you?
When your own sasafr *ss is on the line,
the hope you had diminishes.
A Proud Boy is in your face
& has the final authority
A bad son shall end the likes of you.
With immunity he sheds blood
Crimson tidal waves of civil upheavals — never forget,
today's puff, may be your last cigarette.
An alien to you, to me you were sanctuary,
a perishing human am I, violently
I belonged, just like anyone.
In the hush between the charge and drift,
The world holds breath, suspended in a gift.
North and south exchange a fleeting glance,
Shadows and light halt their ancient dance.
Current pauses, silence on the wire,
Magnetism dreams of what might transpire.
Tension dissolves, the duality wanes,
Yin and yang rest from their endless chains.
In this moment, borders gently blur,
Opposites softened, no rush to recur.
The pulse of change, a silent refrain—
Polarity paused, peace here remains.
Raucous battles between them and us;
Finality reins but life is never the same.
Pause of Polarity Interchange Poetry Contest
1/17/2026
Sponsored by: Unseeking Seeker
At one point in time, there's was one country
As there's one earth, one rainbow and one human race
The wind, rain, smoke, and snow don't recognize
Borders or tiny plots of land that greedy leaders
Think they possess. They will always make errors
Nobody owns a country, tower, a location or a place
As one can only palaver. We can scuttlebutt and dramatize
All we want. Earth or this land is owned by nobody
This land belongs to all. We are passing by as tourists
We are all migrants or immigrants, even the racists
Or the wannabes. We are wayfarers, passengers on a boat
We own nothing. We own no land, no wind and no float
We need to make room for each other. Today is your turn
Tomorrow belongs to no one. This is something we must learn.
Copyright © June 2019, Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved
Hébert Logerie is the author of several books of poetry.
We call it freedom,
but what is freedom without form?
A flame without a lantern,
a voice without a conscience,
a march that tramples the morning peace
just to echo its own rage.
We say we speak freely,
but truth is not noise.
Truth is not venom dressed as valor,
not rumor parading as revolution.
Speech is sacred,
when it builds, not breaks.
When it heals, not harms.
When it dares to be honest
even when honesty is inconvenient.
We say we protest,
but protest is not chaos.
It is choreography of conscience,
a civil dance of dissent.
It is the heartbeat of democracy,
not its hemorrhage.
It is a hand raised, not a fist clenched.
A sit-in, not a smash-out.
A song sung in the streets,
not a scream that silences others.
A civilized society is not just paved roads and tall buildings.
It is paved hearts and tall ethics.
It is liberty with love,
rights with responsibility,
freedom with form.
So speak,
but speak with truth.
Protest,
but protest with purpose.
Live free,
but live with grace.
Because civility is not weakness.
It is strength,
restrained.
It is fire,
refined.
It is freedom,
fulfilled.
JCC/OMP
The final resting place arrests the soul that's stirred to ponder
Unlikely calm, untimely psalm shall with these spirits wander
Now your tomb no more the gloom of morrow's peril pending
The will you brought, the peace you sought herein has found it's ending
I cannot summon up the scale, the cry, the wail, of this sad tale
Where you in desperation drew that final fatal vision
Sunshine graces all that my eye falls on in this vale
I search for hope that we won't follow on the sad division
That led us to the precipice where looking down on others
Would lead us to the place where we would choose to fight our brothers
Hope has many colors, complications, aspirations, and rebirth
But let us hope... lest it should die... along with our self-worth
The civil liberties Americans own issued by
Karen Bass will not deteriorate in contest
opposition nor regression of draw by
opponents in campaigned rhetoric to
be also heard at a time of poverty dwellings.
The blemish of labor is construction and labor.
A man's job, not that of the business community.
Gavin Newsom
Microphone hot
Second thought decision coordinating a posse,
gang, terrorist act. For profit illegitimate.
Aggravating mob mentality in civil disruption
Mr. Newsom
Sit, stay at your desk
Make it resolute
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