The splendor of books enthralled me early in life,
being attracted by the weird animations imprinted in them.
The nascent imagination of the five-year old
morphed within me as an exploring book worm.
I grew up with other timely interests in the transit,
many passing passions came and went,
but looking for mystery the childhood book worm grew
as a constant companion creeping secretively in my head.
The lure of books attracted me to the bookstores
like an obsessed honey bee to the posy of flowers.
I enjoyed the flavor of the mystifying nectar,
concealed in the suspense scripted by Doyle or Christie.
In my journey through the corridors of unveiling mystery,
created by Sherlock Holmes or Hercule Poirot,
I took up their roles till I reached the precinct of the last pages
where the ace sleuths solved the enigmatic puzzles.
Although my old myopic eyes degenerated very much,
the strain over the years made the failing vision blurred,
the senile book worm still crawls to find the mystery clues,
letting me feel the power of fiction.
Does your world hang low?
Does your humour ebb and flow?
Do you feel like you’re a flop
And you’re drowning down below?
Are your moods like running water
Won’t stay stable when they oughta?
Does your world – hang – low?
Is your life a drag?
Do you feel like a rag?
Does it seem as though you’re flound’ring
Through impenetrable slag?
Is the whole thing never right?
Not worth keeping up the fight?
Is your life – a – drag?
Do you hide your face?
Do you feel a disgrace?
Are you constantly avoiding
Being with the human race?
Has your life degenerated?
And your world disintegrated?
Do you hide – your – face?
Are you fighting back?
Are you taking up the slack?
Will you give in and surrender
Or go back on the attack?
Tell the world it hasn’t mastered
THIS unconquerable bastard!
NOW you’re fight – ing – back!
Failure fault and foresight
Everything I can't forget
Anxious days and sleepless nights
Everything that I regret
I've forced myself degenerated
Through relentless stinging wind
From angst and guilt
To acceptance and hope - the gap I must transcend
What kept me there
In pits of dispair
It comes as no surprise
I'll be blind as a bat
Bathing in black
Until I open my eyes
Children already grown
Kisses already forgotten
Plants already flowered
Flowers already burgeoned
Forests depleted
Streams degenerated
Hear the desperate cries
Feelings already aged
Hearts already bruised
Souls already alienated
And lovers already gone
We have nothing left
The singing birds
The meowing cats
Always on our shoulders
And the naughty dogs
Barking sporadically
How presumptuous! How impertinent
The past won't come back
And time leaves us memories
Hidden and huddled under black ice
We talk about tomorrow, about the future
Ah! Good. That's all we can utter
Immediately
We can flee to the hills of Zaire
Like the elephants.
P.S. Translation of ‘Et Des Amours Déjà Partis’ by Hébert Logerie.
Copyright © June 2022, Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved
Hébert Logerie is the author of several collections of poetry.
Four leaves --> one dies
as before
Chains like a noose
My dear, a cartoon --
Cheerios and cool-aid
My knees bleeding /
mom I fell \ my mood
changed again / here again
_darkness again!
Save Kids and food
Watch wallet ...
accounts like numbers
falling waters drowning
kids -- but you don't know
what it means but you don't
want to know what it means
"We're drowning/singing\
and you love us any who"/
We could ask for more --
hesitation like a whore
thinks what is darkness --
less or more?
We don't ask and don't ever
ask more | riding bicycles
we're just youth in a degenerated
society.
And Nice so nice to breath
Oh so nice to be just us.
:: 11-27-2017 ::
Fallowed mind on barren ground toils
Winter's cold streams radiant beams foil
No incubating current cuts through the dense soil
Muses' bright glint the dark, thick clouds roil
Blipping sparks can't light my sensory console
A dormant seed sprouts on a rocky knoll
Promising strands on frozen surface stroll
Chilling winds over shallow-rooted thoughts troll
Vapid ideas from stagnant un-imaginative threads loll
Without depth, the promising figments spoil
In due course, Spring's thawing tides do roll
On horizon's mount, azure panels scroll
The brighter patches degenerated conduits parole
Fecund spores with soaring visions cajole
Wispy tufts of dander blow into cranial hole
Into thawing seams, germinating inspiration bowls
Enervating muse, implanted seeds into interstices dole
Granules of wisdom brim from gilded boll
Leaving pod, enthralling, pearly grains silt the soul
The congealed fabric spins around each, sensory pole
Ginned fibers into imagination's colorful tapestry burrow
A Daily Consumed Society
Man has changed and confused his principals.
What one day was culture, innocence and
shame, has degenerated into vulgarity, malice
and impurity.
What was a beautiful sentiment yesterday, of
warmth, comprehension and love, has converted
into coldness, intotolerance and hate.
Our children learn what they see. Throughout
their lives they encounter a pile of trash, which they
consume step by step as they are growing up.
Obedience is a victim of indocility. The shame
has died, in the darkness of the grotesque and
a good man is characterized as an imbecile...
Written by Lucilla M. Carrillo
The thousand arms of Lucy
come beating on my door
at that very second my instincts
set on soul survival
first I run and dodge them
then I fight the losing fight
until I am surrounded by
a never ending night
every direction wicked
I don't know which is best
is the fight still worth fighting
when we have such little left?
A needle in the darkness
is suddenly stabbing me
everything is a warning
caught in hypersensitivity
everything destroys me
hurts me to the bone
but I continue forward
until I am far from home
Lucifer and his army
of degenerated brains
existing in a real world
like pawns in his warped game
the world is all here,
with the veil cast upon us
you must now ask your God,
why would he want us?
Why would he need us?
when he holds so much power
acting brave until the chains
pull with such force downward
now we are enslaved
to the void that forms before us
little being known that we are
in motion to be the great destroyer
What do you do with your money?
What happens is not funny.
You are broke the day after payday.
All the money is pissed away.
Obligations are due.
Creditors harass you.
The checks you write are bad.
Your situation is so sad.
You go to the pawnshop for a loan.
They have nearly everything you own.
Jewelry, cameras, rings,
watches, and other things,
they are sold when you do not pay on time.
No one calls this situation sublime.
You have degenerated into less than a man.
You are stealing, cheating, and lying when you can.
Moreover, you deny this is so.
What you say is usually “I don’t know”.
You do not believe a problem exists.
Those who care for you are last on your lists.
You have a gambling problem without any doubt.
Just look how you act after every seven out.
**Dear Readers , - Kindly readon from my first Verse on "Introduction to Ancient Greek Philosophy in Verse", I had to post my work serially due to restriction on the length of each poem per entry ! Thanks !
(The Sopists - concluding portion)
Sophistry soon degenerated into selfish and
fallacious reasoning ;
And was rejected by many thinking beings !
Time was now ripe for an authentic sage , -
To restore Philosophy with reason , virtue and
common sense ,
And such a sage was Socretes- who came to
Philosophy's defence ,
Which I shall cover in my Part-II dear friends !
Concluding My Part -I of Greek Philosophy :
With this my readers I come to the end of
Part-I of Ancient Greek Philosophy in Verse .
I had aimed at simplicity for easy understanding ,
Without sacrificing authenticity ;
Being a true lover of Philosophy !
The Second Part would cover the Age of Socrates ,
The Cynics , and The Cyrenaic ;
Stopping short of Plato and his ideal World of
Forms .
Thanks for reading !
Author : Raj Nandy
New Delhi
***ALL COPY RIGHTS RESERVED BY ME***
Pain
Constant throbbing
Never ending
Day and night
Stop
Night and day
Ending never
Throbbing constant
Pain
He would never forget the raindrops knocking on his coffin,
painfully screaming in a postpartum (from life) depression,
nor would he forget the stiffness of his entire body
banging on the wood as the carriage was hurried
along the cracked pavement on the streets
of the Holy Land to the cheapest and closest "Ash House".
He had never imagined what the future would bring to him,
now, when the latest experience in physical death
had been caused by simply the absolute lack of love.
He didn't react too much to the beatings and mutilations of the hysterical fat maniacs,
self-proclaimed highnesses in control of a whole degenerated generation.
He still remembered though the permanent hunger of the soul
and the love he had never experienced.
Adnan was not a fighter anymore.
It was time to move on and die for a while...
But then...
for Gareth's Contest: "Leave Me Hanging"
www.scripca.com
My father told me of a city so grand
With a ladies statue torch in her hand
The torch of freedom in the world he lived
With the drop of a bomb all life was sieved
Images en grained in his ageing mind
For he never imagined this kind of mankind
At the time of the drop I was one years old
Down in a bunker as above it unfolds
All I remember in the years we stayed there
Were the fortunate people distraught in despair
Many years have passed from the bunker we left
Generations in dust civilisation reft
Buildings stripped by Nuclear Acid
Putrid river flowing rancid
Mutated beings in struggled motion
Flesh dripping from sores in their degenerated ocean
We now live in the mountains in cavernous caves
Away from the cities where millions stayed
Survivors we are our world in pity
Millions gone, where once stood a city
http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/war4.php
First letters are undulating, bouncy and loopy
Rest are sort of pretty sloppy and crunched together
With a load of smooth diagonal lines that connect all the way
And a squarish circle degenerated into a quick squiggle
It's a sort of scribble and swirl
Legible in the most illegible sense of the word
Looks like I have been testing the flow of ink
A flamboyant mess and a mysteriously intriguing expression of my mood
It is beautifully hideous and reflects on who I am
If you can read it you are an absolute champion
DARKNESS, EMPTINESS, HOLLOWNESS, DESPAIR
WEAKNESS, LAZINESS, CARELESSNESS, GLARE
LONELINESS, AWKWARDNESS, SILLINESS, SHAME
PASSIONLESS, HOPELESSNESS, PAINFULNESS, STAIN
FEELING LESS, UGLINESS, SADNESS, DISGUST
SHAMELESSNESS, VAUNTED NESS, VALUELESS, MISTRUST
RUTHLESSNESS, HAUGHTINESS, BOASTFULNESS, PRIDE
DECEPTIVENESS, CAUSTIC NESS, FRIVOLOUS, STRIFE
CHAOTIC NESS, REBELLIOUS, RIOTOUS, EXTREME
LEWDNESS, LASCIVIOUSNESS, SELFISHNESS, SCHEME
DEGENERATIVE MAN
GOODNESS, LIGHTNESS, JOYFULNESS, GRACE
CLEANNESS, GUILTLESS, PAINLESS, FAITH
HAPPINESS, FULLNESS, PEACEFULNESS, SOUND
GROUNDED, STABLE, SECURITY, FOUND
EXUBERANCE, FULFILLMENT, UPLIFTED, LIGHT
WHOLENESS, HELPFULNESS, TOGETHERNESS, MIGHT
TRUTHFUL, MEANINGFUL, THANKFUL, REAL
ENLIGHTENED, RESCUED, REDEEMED, APPEAL
COLORFUL, BEAUTIFUL, VALUABLE, LIFE
WORTHINESS, HONORABLENESS, HOPEFULNESS, RIGHT
REGENERATED MAN
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