If you lie, you're a liar
If you steal, you're a stealer
If you kill, you're a killer
If you bad mouth, you're a backstabber
If you murder, you're a criminal
If you discriminate, you're an animal
If you disrespect, you'll be disrespected
If you cheat, you'll be disinherited
If you fake it, you are a hypocrite
If you have no evidence, you're a fake
If you're audacious, you're a sinner
If you're vicious, you're an ass-kisser
We are tired of the lies, you're an élite
A thief, a narcissist and an empty lake
It is what it is. You are who you are
There's no need to go to war
Raise high the white flag
That you hid in your small bag.
Copyright © November 2020, Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved
Hébert Logerie is the author of several books of poetry.
Categories:
disinherited, adventure, anti bullying, anxiety,
Form: Rhyme
Outside and elsewhere
existence is a leaf on a deep blue river;
a long night has set it free to bob and tumble
as an upturned mirror caught in the gray rays
of an obscure sun.
I listen to the heartbeat of a giant turtle;
the soundless pulse of a mind roaming away from itself.
At such times, a body of flesh becomes a body of work,
an opus of all that can be held
between a left and right handedness.
Nothing has a name here, all anchors are cut,
the black cat of thought
leaves no pawprint upon the inner eye.
Somewhere, now buried in a silvered dew,
the world at large has shrunk beneath the gravity of its own presence.
On the surface of all seen things faces are bereft of identity.
Home seems far away,
a place where an awakening ghost waits for its own arrival.
All the works of a self-creating oeuvre are naming themselves ‘home’
but ‘home’ knows nothing of any journeys made between
these disinherited regions.
From behind a cloud of nowhere a frameless door swings open;
nothing enters, yet All That Ever Was steps out
to greet it.
Categories:
disinherited, poetry,
Form: Free verse
She lived to be the oldest of a staid,
unremarkable bourgeois family.
Lavender and off-white lace,
complemented her black ruffled attire.
She played the Granddame with much aplomb,
the matriarch of her passionless clan.
Occasionally her offspring
and her offspring’s offspring came to her for money,
a few with questions, appeals, unctuous compliments
She offered only sneers, curled and haughty lips.
In her days there were giants on earth,
they did not reach just for the middle shelves.
Their thoughts were painted hot-air balloons,
they imagined rocket ships made out of
bicycle parts.
Was it her fault that humanity had shrunk?
Day after day she gave audience
to unimaginative midgets, the small minded
affronted by her regal demeanor.
When she died they gathered
to pick the spoils, unfortunately for them
she had long disinherited her fortune
considering her kindred all just cheap satin
stitched over bovine buttocks.
Categories:
disinherited, poetry,
Form: Free verse
This body that I am now forced to own
once was a glove for desiring hands, and
a hand for the warm fitting-rooms of strangers.
I am an owner of derelict houses.
their roofs and walls unrecognizable
In the harsh light of a dawn mirror.
Parts of this ‘me’ still are affixed
to the pages of put-away scrapbooks
albums of disinherited images
Once upon-a-time forms
now lay buried in fallow fields
memorial plots,
visited by ailing angels
that keep alive transient likenesses
in shoeboxes of heavenly haunts.
Looking at this that I have become
I wonder what part I played
In the ruination of my castle keep,
what parts the attrition of decades
have reduced a temple
into a place where seagulls
fight for scapes in a perishing landscape?
Let grace be my life-raft,
let the young be my saviors,
but of course any rescue now
must be only a weakening gesture,
a fist shaken at the unchanging stars.
Categories:
disinherited, poetry,
Form: Free verse
landscape of shadow life
Eden marsh is still
when the hawk
gives way to the owl
silent feathers sweep low
over shining bog
to dust away the last
vestiges of twilight
songs of other times,
once warmed and borne
on sibilant breezes,
lie deeply entombed in mud
the silver scaled seek depths
tangled by remnants
of root and reed
cat tail stalks
dried to palest brown
crisply bent before
prevailing winds
fray the edges of
ice clothed pools
we, who bide here,
weep snow tears
while crossing
through our lives
like clouds
stacked and rolling higher
over Eden marsh in winter.
we the disinherited
our voices buried
wait, words frozen
glistening spittle on tongues
hard as diamonds
cut the ice glass clot freeing sounds
of crack-shatter speech
our peat soaked bodies
bend before adversity to become
wisps of paper wasp nests
to flutter anonymously gray
delicate yet barren
our stories mere guesses
in frigid places.
Categories:
disinherited, dark, history,
Form: Free verse
INTRANSIGENCECapricious in opinion
Parental – High handedness
Work put in
By sentinel minions
Juggernaut enthused
Serial circumstance
Discorded use. Abstinence!
Crushed! UNDONE!
Inconsonance
I am slighted. Rebuffed!
Disinherited
Urgency brings revolution
Insurgence
Of divine retribution.
End.
Categories:
disinherited, beauty, god, grief,
Form: Free verse