Poets are architects of souls,
Some with metrical bricks,
The rest with rhythmic words,
They write to have a right.
Let them feign their reign,
And rule over the walls of death,
In the name of a god-given talent,
They write till they die.
For their words carry agony,
Let them murder themselves,
Every time they encounter bliss,
For they write to feel.
The sacred souls shall not love,
For love could contaminate,
Even the purest rivers of our nation,
And yet they ache to write.
My mind is full of jumbled whispers
Whispers coming from each corner
Telling me how I am to be
How I must do everything
The whispers like smoke in my lungs
Filling me with darkness
Why can’t I be who I want to be
Why must the whispers tell me how I am
Why must the whispers travel through every Nerve in my body just to make sure I act how They want me to
I want to scream into the heavens
Tell the whispers this isn’t what I want
But every time I do
The whispers come back stronger
Like a blade to the mind
Slicing until the whispers contaminate my whole Being
I rip and tear at my skin to make the whispers Leave
But all that follows is crimson pooling at my feet
The whispers will always be there
Everywhere I am
Controlling my every move
They will turn me into darkness until all I leave is A path of ash following closely behind me
They will make sure everyone knows the scars They left on my mind
They will make it known that they own me
I will never be who I want to be
I don’t know exactly what the Bible
Has said about these three words
However, I know these are like sharp swords
Which can only be negative and destructible.
They are definitely the obvious opposites of love
Love is sweet, soft, beautiful and refreshing
However, these three pariahs are destroying
Everything on their paths; they are full of loathe.
There should no room for them in the natural verse
They can burn, break, disrespect, divide, hurt and maim
They can contaminate and rot everything. Where they aim
Is unusual and irrelevant; they are deleterious to the universe,
Copyright © October 2025 Hébert Logerie, all rights reserved.
Hébert Logerie is the author of several collections of poetry.
Verity
Miracle Man
1/9/2025
Political truth is often perceived to come,
from the politicians lips the story last passed.
But If lips were moving there is a rule of thumb,
that he must be lying or just feeling outclassed.
Most Politicians are guilty of pollution,
they contaminate the air with unwanted sound.
I’d suggest term limits as starting solution,
giving another a chance for sheep to confound.
Munchausen Syndrome by Proxy
Parent presents herself as distressed, concerned, loving
Major caregiver to child who appears perpetually sickly
Child’s symptoms are exaggerated
Worse yet, sometimes falsified by mother
She might contaminate the urine samples
Child gets better in hospital until mommy dearest visits
What is happening?
Nurses are the first to suspect
Doctors do not want to think this way
Munchausen Syndrome by Proxy
A mental illness whereby a caregiver
Starves or poisons child
Sadly, many of them are health professionals
Wanting others to consider them saviors
As they save their child once again from the cliff of death
Covid
commiserate, conjugate
circumambulate around the
circumference of the
continent
covertly circulate
in the crevices of
confederates
cramped, crawling,
crooning in the
cavern of
Copulates
we concurred
that the crisis
was going to confabulate
Covid closure
clamped and comorbid
into crass and crumpled
consternates
constipate crush
collapse and confiscate
curious conjugates
carelessly canned
into cisterns of
congenial but classless
contaminate.
i cannot continue
to calculate
the cost of our
confusion.
We took a break,
fortunately, it was a time
when we could not stand each other.
Whirlwind romances
spun like dandelion puffs
in a thin, just barely breathable air.
I knew retrospectively
that she was three years younger than I
and I was five years younger
in puppy dog years.
When we met once more,
we argued over some bitter bones
we thought we had long buried.
After a prolonged snarling match
we had a cataclysmic coupling
that lasted to the following Sunday.
A priest blessed our union,
suggesting that from now on
we only contaminate each other -
and none other
with our dog-eat-dog love.
I was wrong, terribly wrong.
I carried within me
memories of happenings
and rumours of fresh happenings,
that I soon realised
I'll never find peace until
In some profound eternity,
I can silence my soul.
Easier said than done.
For the mind continues delving
into the mysterious story of my life.
Grey clouds overhead
race each other,
threatening thunder.
What strange chemicals do they hide?
I hear the lovely finches twittering.
Are they near extinction?
A hunter's shot: some uselessly die.
I see fields covered with clover.
Do farmers use strange chemicals
to get a better crop? Do animals
who feed on the harvest
contaminate their innards,
so that we eat polluted food?
So my thoughts rumble on,
despite the silence all around.
Why can't I have silence in my soul?
FICTION
In the Future, there will be no rose meadows, a desolate barren hellscape of ecocide normalized. The bleakness of reality
made possible by the dominion of the Earth.
Corporations contaminate the atmosphere we once breathed. They poisoned the air so they could sell gas masks to our children.
Oxygen, water have become luxuries.
Preparing for a death long waiting for us.
A prophecy where the eighth fire
will never be lit. Skin feels feverish before
the sun scorches us all into ashes.
My curls are the frame of my temple, my curves an embellishment.
My skin smooth as silk.
My lips fill with contaminate cherries.
Your impenetrable eyes flow everywhere like torrents of sweet waters, rummaging in my past, crumbling hidden memories of unrequited loves.
My shoulders are scaffolding that support my rose garden,
infested with thorns and apparently fragile and delightful ruins.
My belly and my hips the high road of life,
and my strong legs tower with forbidden steps.
My body is a timeless architecture, where roots,
scars and immense deserts
transform it into what my unearthly essence has long resided, my temple.
Automated Daily Warning
Satellite Sentinel One-Niner-Three
Geo synchronous orbit
Pacific-Med-Atlantic contiguous sea
Sunspot activity forecast
Will deplete Ozone layer more
Than level originally forecast
On our bulletin before
Sunblocker max level needed
Forecast UVstrong clear skies
Max density protection recommended
For exposed human eyes
Contaminate Pollution level rising
From spontaneous vegetation blaze
Need for respirator mask is expected
Requirement for at least four more days
Tsunami warning
From expected Polar melt
All station warning
On designated high risk belt
Currently extending
Roughly Pole to shifting Pole
This is your automated daily warning
Global Health Service Control
Sponsored by the makers
Of Sommulus Happy Pills
Working relentlessly
To add perspective to your ills
This bulletin will repeat hourly
With regular up dates
Courtesy Sommulus Happy Pills
Your reliable Mood Help Mates
Money when is greedily accumulated
Even though prosperity is created
We fail to enjoy the presence of it
We may not celebrate it even a bit
That attitude will grow like forest-fire
We may not stop firmly that desire
As our heart, greed will dominate
Our mind, desire will contaminate
Acquisition of money is a bad illness
It must be monitored with carefulness
When we plan to amass great wealth
We may not care about our health
Money will inflate our ego severely
Making us behave like demons really
We may see prestige in petty matters
And we may fail to enjoy this Universe
If money is our servant, we then win
For money only is committed great sin
If enough becomes our only formula
Our life will be devoid of any flaw
If you can decently make a living
If happiness, contentment is giving
You are traveling on the right track
Nothing on this fine Earth, you lack.
Hatred and enmity are highly poisonous
As they fully make heart and mind sterile
By pumping enormous animosity we all
Contaminate the minds of humanity totally
When we hate a thing, we injure ourselves
Our blood is slowly getting heated badly
Our temper is driven toward sure collapse
We enter into the bad books of dear ones
Better to love and think of those niceties
That made our lives highly memorable
Nasty past must be immediately ignored
Heart must get soon a positive rhythm
Prayer and positive views must fill our heart
Hopeful thoughts must permeate our mind
We must not allow entry for this pessimism
Joy must enter into our system with vigor
Replace hatred by love, mercy and affection
Locate the brighter side of all those things
That pump into your heart happy thoughts
Control wisely heart, mind and your soul!
Don't create competition,
Create collaboration,
Collaborate to celebrate,
Celebrate copious currency,
To correct your current circumstances..
Completely cease competition..
Cuss your contempt..
Its contaminate!!.
Its Crippled and crumple your credibility
Cultivate collaboration,
Constantly Connect & converse,
Certainly, the crowd will crown you
& call to congratulate you..
When you write you can get your thoughts out
but if it's something that hurts you and no one sees,
what's the point in writing it?
The world is full of hurt, why make it worse?
Keep your thoughts to yourself.
Don't allow someone to hurt you.
Don't contaminate the pages with your nonsense.
The only way to be truly happy
is when you're at peace.
What if my peace is death?
What if I don't have a purpose?
Maybe,
just maybe,
I do have one.
I just lost it.
well,
my brain lost it.
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