The world today is amazing
Simply because the Right is right
While the Left is just out
In Left field
Preaching to the ever dwindling crowd.
Who does the Right support?
Everyone who supports the Rule of Law.
Who does the Left support? Criminals.
And why? Who the hell knows,
But it probably has something
To do with equality.
Not equality under Rule of Law
But quality of result, regardless of means.
(8/25/25)
Force that turns glass shards to mists
and causes girders to bend and twist
flesh and bone cannot resist
nor mortal word can console this
pushed to the brink
with blotted ink
the buttons pressed
have secret links
to battles pitched
it might seem rich
for ribbon bars
as spirits lift
the bodies stiff
a cheek to kiss
for some they dare
not lift the lid
an endless list
of souls to miss
we ask the question,
‘is it just this?’
A life of false happiness
Or death by defiance
They claim we have a choice
But what kind of choice is a life of imprisonment or a death penalty
An eternal life of isolation
Or an eternity of nothingness
With choices like that who needs control
Or to be caged by manipulation
For us the ideal choice
Would be death
To go out on our own terms
A slight chance of freedom
Because who would want to live a life suffocated by fear
Or is the other option better
Where we exist in an eternal abyss Of unconsciousness
Why for us can't we have peace
Instead of fighting for equality
Everyday is a struggle
Living up to expectations unattainable
Where being black automatically means
Scrutinization is part of the clause
Irreversible
And every move we make is questionable
Is this our shared legacy
Where acceptance we are hungry
Where we have this ache for a different history
Or at least have the life those before us wanted in our line of ancestry
To live a life where the burdens we are forced to carry
Are taken away so life will not be so heavy
On the day of the Lord the human shall fear,
A terrifying god whom will Christians duly Peer,
The dead shall live again - the Christian tear,
A monopolising Christianity that cannot hear.
With, or without, all people are flatly, truly loved,
Without malice or tub, to jingle coyly ungloved,
Whatever the decade, decision, rubbed, tugged,
A transcendental god shall ring these beloved.
Talking clouds blown by earth’s graphic might,
Pose for the distant, scathed by a distinct light:
Enemies rise n’ fall as if tugging the dark night,
Offsetting the juggernaut of the ready birthrite.
A thought for people, bound, wet in eye-glare,
Principles, claims and chains won’t be the fare;
Nothing will work except behaviour and blare,
To suggest an ascent coloured by another wear.
All people are of inherent and fully equal worth,
God dies again for the decliner’s identity of birth,
Inside - not as proactive, with his mobile hearth,
A blacklist deceives those fleeing their childbirth.
Dominique Webb
equality~
apparent
divisions are
appearances of
what was never
divided~
without the
divisions
equality
may feel as
unconditional love~
Inspired by the USPS "19th Amendment: Women vote"
forever stamp (2020)
They stamped her face–
like that could contain her fire.
Purple, white, and gold–
not colors, but warning,
wrapped around a marching soul.
She didn't walk,
she moved like thunder–
every step cracking silence,
every breath remembering
the women who weren't allowed to speak.
They called her too loud.
Too much.
Too wild.
But she was never meant to be quiet.
She was never made to blow.
She wasn't built to fold.
She was built to ignite.
They reside on the other side.
They bathe in fertility.
They own yard-keepers and servants;
Dogs, cats and charming plants.
They breathe the camphorated air like us,
Swallow the transparent dust,
Cross over and fall in the muddy rivers
Like our siblings living under the tiny tents.
They reside on the other side of town,
Over the mountains.
They bathe in tranquil fertility
Of the country-side.
They ignore that we are the same
And that we experience daily the same dilemmas.
One day, them and us, all of us will answer
Present deep in the river, under the karmic bridge.
P.S. This poem was originally written during my college years. Nelson Mandela was still illegally and wrongfully jailed, spending (wasting) 27 years of his heroic and precious life unjustly incarcerated. Mr. Nelson Mandela and my African brothers and sisters are the sources of my inspiration.
Copyright © circa May 1984 Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved
Hébert Logerie is the author of several books of poetry.
equality
arises seeing
that nothing
is arising
interweaving
may suggest that
the separation
interwoven
is the immediacy
of a dance step
wood grains
seem as suggestion
of time past
a map claimed as
years and seasons
of eternity
emergence
from or into
darkness
is the stuff of
stories
which avoids the
inconvenience of
spontaneity
They told us silence was golden
but we learned it was a cage.
Now, the locks are rusted open
and we are stepping on the stage.
No more whispers in the margins
no more shrinking to fit the room.
We speak in every shade and story
our words like seeds that bloom.
We are not echoes of one another
we are a rising storm, a lion's roar
And we will not rest until every voice
is heard, is valued
is free.
I love how the wild rose
doesn't take direction
it takes charge in summer
it blooms in generous abundance
permeating the air with its perfume
for passersby rich or homeless
the wild rose is anything by common
it's magnificent and an integral symbol
of equality for one and all under the sun
AP: 3rd place 2025, Honorable Mention 2025
no crown endures, no throne remains,
Death levels all, in silent chains.
Immortal dreams, mortal frail,
In shadow's grasp, all faces pale.
A king may rule with gilded might,
Yet he, too, fades in endless night.
A beggar’s plea, a child’s cry,
All echo faint when time runs dry.
The sky looks down, impartial, cold,
On fleeting power, on treasures sold.
Why bow to pride, why grasp at gold,
When dust reclaims both young and old?
Each name inscribed, each title claimed,
Will vanish soon, like candles tamed.
The strong oppress, the weak retreat,
Yet all are ash beneath time’s feet.
Death whispers soft, a song so clear,
A final truth all hearts must hear:
No difference marks the high or low
In death, all paths to silence go.
Yet in this truth, a freedom gleams,
For life’s no more than borrowed dreams.
And while we walk this fragile span,
We’re kin, not masters man to man.
I am myself, yet without a name,
a ripple in water, a spark in flame.
Where the self fades, simplicity grows,
all life equal, as the river flows.
The world unravels its endless chain.
a stone, a tree, the same ordained.
Each has a place, a moment, a role,
unbound by time, a shared whole.
Beauty fades, and flesh turns to bone,
yet the heart that sees is never alone.
The mask of form will crumble away,
revealing truth at the break of day.
The tiger’s hunger, the eagle’s flight,
a sacrifice made in love’s pure light.
To give, to nourish, beyond one’s breath,
is to honor life, transcending death.
A bear consumes; blood stains the earth.
A mortal cries out: “What is life’s worth?”
But deeper still, the wise will see,
the bear, the man one destiny.
If I don’t descend to darkness, who will?”
The good steps forward, serene and still.
body offered, his spirit whole,
boundless love, embracing all souls.
So love the stone, the sky, the trees,
the restless ocean, the gentle breeze.
Let go of form; embrace the whole.
All is one—the world is soul
(10 words).
Equality, democracy, aiming high, seem
Globaly now, mankind's forgotten dream.
Feminism an idea,
Not so new.
But its existence in society,
In reality is very few.
Everyday with evils,
She has a fight.
She does so to make,
The purpose of her life right.
For every step she takes,
She’s obliged to answer questions.
But on her reaching pinnacle of glory,
Her hard work is rarely mentioned.
“Dress too tight!”
“Lipstick too bold!”
“Her dress is so short, doesn’t she feel cold?”
Irrespective of her clothes and age,
She is sexualized.
And for harassers it takes,
Years to be penalized.
Candle march for her rights, People are going to hold.
But still for few currency notes somewhere,
Her body would be sold.
We worship her in
Several forms,
Then why, why do we,
Cage her in society’s evil norms
To celebrate her existence,
We have dedicated a day.
But her battle for equality,
Isn’t like child’s play.
Feminism an idea,
Not so new.
But its existence in society,
In reality is very few.
In the ethereal realm, where Themis holds sway,
A cosmic ballet of justice, a metaphorical play.
Yet, in our earthly sphere, reflections intertwine,
Empower women—the catalysts of progress divine.
Like Themis, with scales, a celestial display,
Let women’s worth twirl within the sunlit ray.
Respect and recognition, whispered dreams unfold,
A symphony of progress, a story yet untold.
As Themis adorns the sacred tapestry of mythic lore,
So too can women ascend, their voices galore.
Grant them the stage, society’s sacred decree,
Witness progress soaring, untethered and free.
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