Being so much alone
While a pretty figure appears
Thought you had find a crown
Hunt to cement partial fears
Between together
Or gone forever
And to never give a thought to be as we are
Choose to be in love
Fears to cease the shame of rejection
Better being told and turn a mere laugh
Than get burnt a cookie via affection
Useless is a vow
To which you do not bow
And meet up no matter how
Reality of the heaven
The confusion of the earth
Tugs the dream to share in even
Renting the reason to kiss noble breath
Jug the love
Move hastily in wave
And tie no reason counts gold to enslave
Dictation of being
Designation of mind's views
Do not guarantee foreseeing
Yet free off visiting the blues
When love is true
All your partners' faults enough a clue
For both to become anew
Anger, the emotion of the unheard,
When words won't work, it speaks through hurt
Peace was never an option - when the hate you give continues to burn
When the hands you touch, turns to ashes
Anger becomes validation, for when comfort is a luxury not afforded
Outcasted, into the shadows, our pain overlooked
Anger, an echo of ancestral hurt,
Of justice unserved -
The rights of black people, constantly burned
This the reason why peace can no longer be an option
Anger is our self-made reparations
We decide how we recover,
We decide how to heal
We decide our emotions
Dictation is the tool of the weak, abused by our oppressors
We feel what we feel due to their racism
The way we deal, was never our fault
It was the world that forced us into survival
Our healing will be their downfall
Anger is one of our greatest weapons
It is the fuel for every revolution,
This is what gives every movement energy
It travels in our blood, in each blood vessel
Anger is necessary to our survival -
Because to be a conscious black person, is to live in a constant state of anger
Stuck in a state of separation,
Living among a divided nation,
Unaware of their condition.
We can change the situation,
Life is continuation,
Cycles repeating rotation,
Sustaining creation.
A Universal gestation,
Experiencing sensations,
Through physical integration.
Each unique vibration,
A Molecular mutation,
Creating the perfect formation.
Spirits observing in elation,
While Our participation,
Builds the foundation.
Tune to the same station,
Become a unified nation,
For the sake of salvation.
The Constant temptation,
Adding Fear and frustration,
Created a separation.
Hiding our true relation,
Through lectures and dictation,
Students of useless information.
They're Hoping the stimulation,
Prevents the activation,
Of your universe within.
The most beautiful proses or poems
Were divinely dictated by the Almighty.
I'm not immersing in some profound dreams.
Needless to say, I'm neither inebriated not crazy.
Believe me, just like the verses in the Bible,
Many poems came from the womb of inspiration,
However, the most powerful ones were scribbled
By the Spirit of a Higher Power through dictation.
After reading a few verses from some poetry books,
The words come out alive and move like sharks in hooks,
One can experience the very presence of a supernal being.
Poets of all style, in God's name, please do not to stop writing.
Copyright© February 2017 Logerie Hebert, all rights reserved
Hebert Logerie is the author of several books of poems.
Eating my apple in the dark.
On a cold, cold night under the stars.
Wondering how high or how far
Is someone else eating an apple in the dark.
Does it taste the same in their world?
Are we looking at the same star with each bite?
If we were face to face would we smile and carry on eating our apples or would we fight?
So many things make us different in so many ways. Belief plays its part in those dark ways. Religion forming minds with its dictation of ‘right’. But I believe that there is kindness in all living beings out there in the night.
So if life was like eating an apple we’d appreciate the variety of the tastes. We’d smile at eachother in kind, natural ways.
So I’ll eat my apple in the cold dark night. I will look at the stars with each sweet bite. I’d think that somewhere out there someone is doing the same. In quiet contemplation enjoying the taste. Possibly smiling at our star to reflect peace through the night in this cold, dark world where we steal eachother’s light.
MAJOR in giving
Minor in receiving
MAJOR in listening
Minor in speaking
MAJOR in conversation
Minor in dictation
MAJOR in discussing
Minor in debating
MAJOR in loving others
Minor in being loved by others
MAJOR in things over which you control
Minor in things over which you have no control
MAJOR in being human
Minor in being neither more nor less than human
In times of global acceleration,
Seek divine steps and wisdom's dictation,
Our superconscious downloads instruction
To reprogram our subconscious foundation.
Our thoughts, they may lag behind,
They oft confine our conscious mind
But God's wisdom, when intertwined,
Destiny quickens with Kairos time.
When Christ's mind becomes our own,
Influences subconscious to align with heaven
Our speech, infused with Rhema’s design,
Reflect God's purpose, clearly shown.
Embedded deep within our own hearts,
Resides God's plans, His perfect gifts,
With Dunamis flowing, we impart,
His strength and energy, our spirits leap.
I’m sitting at my keyboard
Just ranting and abusing
Which my long suffering wife
No longer finds amusing.
I’m both dyslexic and dyspraxic
Which is why I swear and curse
Because for a creative person that
Combination couldn’t be worse.
To make matters harder I Have
a keyboard that judy can’t spell
And predictive text just
Can Make my life hell.
I bought a dictation programme,
Money very badly spent.
It just can’t cope with
My East Yorkshire accent.
So if my rambling is at time
More than usually absurd
Full of errors and typos
And the odd little non word
Please be a little forgiving
For what you are getting to see,
With all those helpers switched off
The unaided uncorrected real me.
I knew you—
When your hands cradled endless dreams
Not plastic boxes with silver screens
When your only bio was scribbled in crayons
Beneath drawings of skies pink or blue
Rain turtles and fire breathing dragons
I knew you
When you answered my query
How was your day
With simple answers minus gender declarations
Proclamations of straight or gay
And never a mention of mating orientation
I knew you
When you stood by others
Because of whom they are
Sharing their hopes and aspirations
Not because of silly rainbow acronyms
Or the pronouns of a new generation
I knew you
When you would sit with me
Listening to stories of a different time
Absorbing with mental dictation
Laughing but always understanding
I was from an old generation
I know you now
Though you may not think so
Without the watermarks of social media
Tags meant for others to like, share, or see
I know you now
Because
You are and always will be
My son, daughter, nephew, or niece
You are
Family
Rising, a second ahead of stead, fine timing of executor
Horse gusto momentum, mortality a trot towards death
Tied up apple placated decades are dust obscured
Gallops a gamble heart squeeze mane clenched
Bridle left imprints jovial jockey rubs in virility
River pebble tossed prospect to become creek victor
Firm hooves with haphazard legs flail out of depth
Eyes which recognise primary desire, easily lured
Guile of reliance, combed gleamed pretense
Leads to forsaken stable of lollypop loyalty
Karat snap accusations on nonchalance don't register
Angry words inhaled in dawn fragile waking breath
Hat shade Sunday hums hymn worship conditional
Dictation praise from chapter of Shera Seven
Pampers offbeat imminent dog food frailty
Eleventh of May
Mercedes, Argument, Diamonds
God made man in His own image
to rule over His creation.
Not according to his own whim,
but following God’s dictation.
God’s dominion is based on love,
it’s how He rules heaven above.
Man was to mimic his maker,
not to become a lawbreaker.
Sin ruined the nature of man
and put him at odds with God’s plan.
Man succumbed to the evil force,
whose goal is to keep him off course.
Since man no longer rules himself,
he behaves like an evil elf.
To advance, some scheme, scam, and con
treating their fellowmen as pawns,
God made man to be a caretaker,
but man became an exploiter.
Instead of caring for nature,
mankind became its destroyer.
Instead of being God-centered,
mankind has become self-centered.
Man, who was made for mastery,
finds himself trapped in slavery.
Enslaved by greed’s grueling gore,
to vices sore, man’s made a whore.
The intense craving for pleasure
tortures his soul beyond measure.
The ruin that man’s ruling causes
can only in one way find pause.
If man yields to his Maker’s rule
and ceases behaving like a mule.
Honey sticks to cinnamon words
on the lips of the poet;
Nothing feels quite like sugar;
Every drop a little rush,
yet stuck in a web of writer's block;
Lacerations, sticky with that prose
always trip dripping when comfortable;
Noting a phrase from your imagination,
dictation head over heels for Honeyland.
CHROMATIC ABERRATION
There’s another epidemic
Now infecting many a mind
With a source hap academic
Bending thought made colour blind
Viewpoints Green colour of nature
Must be blest, no reservation
Though they hide a scarlet tincture
Mask a socialist dictation
Black Lives Matter is respected
Cross the world now near and far
With its red heart unsuspected
Though it beats a Marxist bar
Red can only be rejected
When it’s on a MAGA hat
Some may then try to correct it
With a sneer and thrown brickbat
Pink once tint of ladies choosing
Air of tender love and grace
Now viragos, furies, shrews in
Street protest wave in-your-face
So-called ‘Anti-Fascist’ hosts
Indulge in Fascist style attack
Unaware that irony gross
Mocks their choice to dress in black!
Chromatic aberrations shifts
Dismay this old curmudgeon’s eye
Yet his spirits still feel lifts
To see red white and blue flown high
I’m here picking the flower petals impulsively while whistling the tune,
“He loves me, he loves me not”.
My head is lost my thoughts about our inconceivable dreamy first date,
Wishing I could feel your warmth wrapping around my waist while intertwining and locking with my hands.
Being consumed in brightly broad assumptions is enough to make me want to stay away.
You make it too hard for me to swallow my feelings as soon as I feel your essence clouding around my fixated heart.
Surely, something this sweet is to wild to believe in,
Most certainly causing my teeth to decay.
Slowly starting loose to this Victorian fear that has played a foul role in my heart when it comes to the same love that’s feeding off of my insecurities.
This will soon be a disaster waiting to destruct thanks to letting my fear dictate my decisions.
The Proseman’s¹ Guide
By the fruits of the Poeter’s vocation
The courtship of mental tinkerings & its written translation
Of one’s inner and outer feelings; a mentally intoxicating libation
Of nuances; pouring from the point of creation;
A quill, a pen…used to spell out this notation
Come alive; to form the tapestry of written constellations
For it may take time to see life’s sedimentation
And take note of a thought’s conceptualization
From beginning to end and transcribe the dictation
verbatim; to ensure there is no unwanted obfuscation
that in this process; there are interludes; brief stagnations
not seen in this polished work of written elocution;
is the exploration & experimentation not found in each line; just it’s summation
of the ebb & flow of this poetical concoction
for if this meandering of prose was archaic; it would need a furthering; illumination
and more likely than not a soft touch of preservation
and a fair bit of the Reader’s intellectual navigation
Hence, leaving the mind’s eye more open for future inspiration
-25NOV20
¹ Proseman: a prose writer —opposed to poet
https://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/proseman
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