Unfortunately, the Haitian people have everything to lose
They are very fragile, humiliated, vilified, and abused
My people have been suffering for years, for centuries
On the pavement, in the streets, in the harbor and on the high seas.
Our people, our brothers and sisters!
Their wicked leaders once in power, the liars
Change all plans to the detriment of the poor
Who are quickly forgotten in the filthy cans
Their spleen, sweat and blood flow are floating in the sewers
They are despised by hens,
By guinea fowls, by roosters, and all types of demons
It was yesterday that they were applauding like dummies,
Cheering, hoping to be awarded with crumbs and pennies.
These zealous brothers are on fire, they are now deaf and crazy
at the end. Even patience has borders and boundaries
Where greedy, covetous and corrupt officials behave like evil yeasts.
Copyright © January 23, 2016 Logerie Hébert, All Rights Reserved
Hebert Logerie is the author of several collections of poetry.
Insecure trolls always like pulling on good energy
I can feel the toxic frequency that they always bring
The holes deep in their hearts contain shadow entities
My light is too strong; their hate can never reach me
These zealots can only speak lies through their teeth
If there is a devil
and there’s some debate,
then I think he’s all too human
- most raw and man-like -
jealous, selfish and hellish,
If there is a God
and there is some debate,
God isn’t human
but she may be perfect
and thus due all respect.
If there’s a heaven
and there is some debate,
it’s obviously not in the clouds
but it may be in outer space
or some extra-dimensional, altered state
If there’s a hell
and there’s some debate,
it could be Florida, Texas
or some other god-forsaken place
I hope they’re not expecting us
And last and not leastly
if there’s a great deep nothing
and there’s some debate,
then your prayers are invalid
there’s no Allah or Valhalla
no heaven, no hell - just us.
Perhaps it’s just as well..
because what remains
is our ever fragile wonder
- we’re brief sparkles,
trembling breaths,
with a chance to love
like sparks in the dark.
.
.
A song for this:
My Song - Labi Siffre
12.
Kind Devils
Season of great hypocrisy showcase behold
Resurrecting good names from grave of rot and old
Don they the masks of cheerful smiles
Hand they bills yonder petty miles
They are kind devils devour fortune's threshold.
-01/04/2007
(Dumarao)
*Topsy-Turvy Limerick Ironic
Who just who? Accepts these gouls.? All halloween haloed un-God like kerls.' And gals ?Blooded in innocent helpless blood.' Aa birds swirled in panick dancing in deaths
Confusing flood.' Did they chew some gum.' Made from animals bone.' Did they
Plan romancing some one, at a place they
Call home.? Will they caress their children
Who will get more jabs of mnra adulteration.? Now the font of 'pure strains?
Is erased in a violent, unasked for acceleration coupled with invasion and evil altercations 'are they playing now the bad cop role?' School yard antics.! Can't
They get the real.world.? Do they see beauty.?Or only a Or only a carney one? (Wrong and mis-directed) that
Shouts down shoots down, ruins health and wont rest.' Untill all of Canada is i'll affected ( with much distress.)
The hegemony of height
gets too much.
The city robs me of the horizon
and hides it behind towering
cathedrals of concrete and glass.
Even trees conspire to fill
the gaps and extend their
leafy reach to obscure the sky.
I long for uninterrupted distance,
horizontal vistas of the open sea
and the flat, unfenced expanses
of the inland with its views
to infinity. Something in me
seeks wide spaces, craves
room to breathe, imagines
sparse outback plains punctuated
only by the height
of dust devils wandering
the vastness that stretches there,
lifting up the silence
in spiralling columns of prayer.
A WHISPER IN DEVILS EAR
You have missed one, he’s over there
Now’s just the right time to approach
And a need for flattery, not reproach
You surely can clearly see his despair
Come on, it’s just another candidate
Sign him up, you have that contract
And even an old nibbed pen, in fact
So, before he leaves, do not hesitate
It must be at least the millionth time
Surely such prompting’s not required
Of course I realise even you get tired
But striking the deal feels so sublime
Your role is to make tempting offers
They will succumb, you know it well
Remember there is still room in Hell
And plenty of gold still in the coffers
Your numbers were down this year
You should know your job by now
We will reach your target somehow
By just a whisper in the Devil’s ear
Driving down the danger zone my destiny dies in a dead end street
Dragging dilapidated deliveries doing the Damn Demons divine deed
Distance deceives my demented disguise the dumb things I don't do
Decisions divide deep, deep inside the Devil's debt is way past due
The Mark of Madness melts away most of my meager mental mind
Masqueraded as this monster man, malicious, morbid eyes made blind
Minced meat is the aftermath of millions of marching, marching men
Mutilated in mislead miles of the massacre's modern mazes again
Frightened and forged in fear from fought fires that forever flare
Feelings flip in the floppiness as a filet fish feels in fresh air
First forget as focus fled floating fails falling to land face first
Faster the flow you freeze now froze finally your face finds free dirt
bmdavey@09/19/2024
My words evade me
Sweat forms in beads
My tongue betrays me
At lightening speed
Quivering knees
Disarm my stance
Panic breeds
The devil’s dance
Something akin
To mourning hope
Runs through my skin
I fail to cope
I babble more
To ease the hush
They must abhor
My need to rush
Attention Queen
Or rambling freak
I didn’t mean
To over speak
THE DEVILS MAN
I can sense the disdain you have for the purest of man
Wishing upon him the same fate as a mayfly on its only
day
Your life is consumed by feeding on the fear of
humankind
Your outer vessel once moulded by the purest of hands
Now resembles a creature awakened in our darkest
dreams
A life force that grows stronger with each failure of
mortal man
Who once had a purpose and were destined to seed
Have now no legacy to pay forward there existence
Lay deep in the cradle of nature
Alone trapped in silence
Waiting for their souls freedom
Our creators return will bring.
The swooshing sound of the wind
Hollow and heavy it rings out
The rough and desolate call of the wild
The divination, dark spirit, and the demonic
Circling the pure, sphere heading the righteous
Oblivious of the dark spirits that echo
Deep, fathomless, and profound
They murmur malevolent intentions in your soul
Being the target was not a coincidence or by chance
I was always your prey
The desire for money is believed to be the roots of all the evils
Is it because there are too many people wishing to be devils?
the base soaked with pee
the devils tree
the stream traveled down
to the roots
in the ground
hands turning black
this haunting is whack
lightning struck
what the
swerving off the road
the fear growed
in the past
lives didnt last
hung from the tree
now filled with pee
the devils tree
The life of a man is fraught with sorrow,
a war of conscience with no tomorrow.
The days of roses when summers would last,
young men and women and the love they cast.
Families struggle with silent issues,
a lifetime of tears and endless tissues.
Relief comes when it's buried in the ground,
the secret is thrown where it's never found.
The victims sleeping soundly in their bed,
dreaming of the love that someone once said!
If you had the devil’s ear
What would you like him to hear
How his evil permeates the world
Causing suffering and death to meld
Would you curse him for who he is
As he laughs and asks why the quiz
For all the pain in the world at large
One for your anger to be discharged.
© Paul Warren Poetry
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