I saw a bloke beneath an oak with nothing in his hands
He seemed relaxed, and as time lapsed, he had little plans
He stayed just there without a care evidently free
Then someone said, that fellas dead, hanging from that tree
The history of Black or African People,
And all of our People should be celebrated
Year-round: every hour, day, week, month, and decade.
The celebration must go on unabated,
All the time. The first couple,
Ever existed, had dark or ebony skin, said
Many credible historians,
Archeologists and great citizens.
The month of February is evidently too short.
Twenty-eight days are not enough,
To commemorate our Brave People, who've fought
And defeated ignorance, bigotry and slavery.
Three hundred and sixty-five days are not enough,
To honor the struggle of the Slaves who were brought
To different parts of the world. A century
Is not enough. Many centuries are not enough.
We need, every day and month of the almanac,
To celebrate, to remember the first Black
Couple, our ebony Ancestors,
Our Black Brothers and Sisters.
Copyright© January 2017 Logerie Hebert, all rights reserved
Hebert Logerie is the author of several books of poems.
The vociferous George
So, here we are, it is ten in the evening
And I have my glass, nay, glasses of red wine
I'm thinking of George Galloway, who
I must say he has mellowed since he left Britain
His voice is less strident; this evidently
caused by his love for his wife and living
Abroad is culturally good for him
But do I detect a slight drift to the right
barely noticeable, but I have noticed
Could it be because he is influenced by X
that some of X, readers have made him
a moderate? No, I refuse to think ill of him.
I put up a fight:
A daring battle
Of love's delight,
Proud fears, rattle...
But when drum rolls...
Hopeful care consoles
My daring aim unsettled.
A pair still to play,
Warming up for game.
Two paths before us lay:
A path to victory; other to shame.
But when drum rolls...
Courage meets controls,
My anxiety becomes settled.
How should we start?
At a distance together,
Or of just, closely apart
Forever against weather.
But when drum rolls...
Puzzle sets on patrols
To parade memories behind.
Deal yet be accepted,
Fate yet to decide...
Persuasion intercepted,
Where considerations reside.
But when drum rolls...
Regrets set off goals,
Against time long mind.
Sunshine or rain?
Choose one now,
Don't wait in vain...
Before sealed to vow.
But when drum rolls...
Arsenal binds our souls,
Maybe right or wrong choice.
This is a booster,
A common in us.
Though an adjuster,
To keep silent, fuss!
But when drum rolls...
Check my written scrolls
Your eyes evidently rejoice.
A dispute among them
Selfish favorite three
What has happened?
Causing such ruckus
Blatantly oblivious
Service to their ideals
I forgot they were me.
Except death is inevitable.
They return to the dispute
Soldier on forge ahead
As I try to keep quiet
These famous three
Not a thinker amongst them
Lacking riveting appeal
And authentic Belonging
I forgot they are me again
Except Death, he is something.
Mostly annoying and boring
The other two are the main reasons.
For taking medications
So many medications
That doesn't work, evidently.
Her shrill voice gets too loud.
Doubling up dosing makes
Turns shrill into whispering
As I've stated numerous times
It's worse than the screaming
My curiosity began to fade.
I'll get back to my writing.
Better than medications
So many medications
The famous three
ing pestiferous three
You Feel Your
Mortality As A
Result Of All
Tragedy...
To A Future
Devoid Of All
Dreams...
Dreams And Schemes.
You Sense More Intently,
Confronted, Evidently,
With No Sense Of Health,
And The Uselessness Of Wealth.
Where Pride Rips Aside
All It Seems...
Splits It’s Seams...
Where You're No Longer
Asking Who You're Unmasking...
***
There's Nothing Wrong With That.
Welcome Home.
-Gray Squirrel
09-14-2025
A surprise silent kiss is to be cherished. – by poet.,
It was evidently inescapable.
Certainly I did not expect it at the time.
The railway station was over crowded
I was patiently waiting for my sister to arrive.
She was supposed to wear a purple dress.
So when I saw the dress I assumed
My sister had finally arrived. I hurried
And gave her one big hug and a silent kiss.
Where upon the stranger turned and uttered a yell.
She was not my sister and I had grabbed someone else.
For a moment no one dared to breathe or move.
I looked at her beautiful face, finely chiseled,
"Well, well, well," she said. "You owe me big, a dinner tonight."
I smiled. We agreed on an Italian diner.
We ordered oysters, followed by a grilled swordfish.
And a tiramisu, laced with a famous Barolo.
It was incredible how we became so fine friends.
We agreed on meeting again. As we came to part
I took her in my arms and it was a long silent kiss.
Placed 1
Harsh asymmetrical contour following dislocated noncontextual departure.
Roaming, haphazardly choreographed with precise misaligned determination.
Mindfully staggering indistinguishable purpose, consistently in linear circumnavigation.
A matter of process, a state of perpetual traversal, saves from permanence.
The ad infinitum of specificity is quantum, the superposition allowing consistent continuity while indelibly transposing by observance.
Redundant to its operation, yet necessary in its function.
Leaving spaces unfiled by way of impetus, whilst evidently consiquential.
Paradoxically self referential, pertinently inescapable ever presence.
Why is this thing called love
when by its fragile intent
becomes a sudden slow ember
to then simply feed upon the flames
of its own bonfire
Those cursed lips
taste of a bounteous feast
so sweet its infection
is loves elegant torture
when from starvation
desire is released
Ah ! Harlequin trickster of doubt and surety
within sleepless dreams
comes to taunt the flowers
and in petal meadows wander secretly
Hide from the fact
run to the truth
does a lie hang there
from the temples roof
does the paradox entwine
from the souls own making
and is it yourself you are forsaking
Why oh why
all this hesitant hesitation
I think I will stretch away from normality
because somewhere in sanity
I am evidently crazy
Searching has only brought this
this troublesome need
and its urgent request
a periscope peering
from out of my own depth
Expectant art
stunning beauty
written on the tongue
of latent sensuality
should I die
shall I be born
and allow joyous terror
to devour me
relinquish
accept
and in the end
vanish with love into eternity
This love is a needle ,
It pricks my gentle chest,
Like a thorn it tears my tissues away ,
A great sensation of pain caresses my soul,
Sweet yet unbearable,
Like the sky on mercury retrograde.
It burdens my soul yet lifts my spirit,
Somehow I can't seem to escape it,
Like an occurrence of hurricane,
It clouds my judgement,
And blocks my instincts ,
Evidently I feel it alone .
I waited for tomorrow,
And time laughed on my face,
The cherry blossoms never blossomed,
Tomorrow forgot to visit ,
A stranger acquired you ,
Yet I'm left holding on to these emotions,
Time heals all wound they say,
But there's no healing an unwounded heart ,
Or an unscared soul ,
I chose pain ,
After setting my eyes on you ,
I knew it could never be returned,
Yet I chose to pour it out unconditionally,
I'm a fool in love I can't reason,
I'm a fool in love I'm brainless,
Just dying to be loved by you ,
Desperation drives my current fate.
This love is a needle ,
It pricks my gentle chest,
Like a thorn it tears my tissues away ,
A great sensation of pain caresses my soul,
Sweet yet unbearable,
Like the sky on mercury retrograde.
It burdens my soul yet lifts my spirit,
Somehow I can't seem to escape it,
Like an occurrence of hurricane,
It clouds my judgement,
And blocks my instincts ,
Evidently I feel it alone .
I waited for tomorrow,
And time laughed on my face,
The cherry blossoms never blossomed,
Tomorrow forgot to visit ,
A stranger acquired you ,
Yet I'm left holding on to these emotions,
Time heals all wound they say,
But there's no healing an unwounded heart ,
Or an unscared soul ,
I chose pain ,
After setting my eyes on you ,
I knew it could never be returned,
Yet I chose to pour it out unconditionally,
I'm a fool in love I can't reason,
I'm a fool in love I'm brainless,
Just dying to be loved by you ,
Desperation drives my current fate.
Free, we say
For we can loot
From our states' coffers
Just to fall prey of their offers
Free, we say
For we can divide ourselves
Through invisible ethnic lines
Evidently a theatre for their muse
Free, we say
For we deceive ourselves
That our leaders we select
Do we know the inside of ballot boxes?
Free, we say
Yet in their pockets
We graze, their eternal puppets
What makes us free?
Our happiness they determine
Plan how we breathe
Being led by a white cane
For through their eyes we see.
February 19 Praises to God Bible Meditations Based on Numbers 18-20
Key Verse– Numbers 18:20 And the LORD spake unto Aaron, Thou shalt have no inheritance in their land, neither shalt thou have any part among them: I am thy part and thine inheritance among the children of Israel.
PRAISE BE TO GOD WHO ASSURES US DIVINE INHERITANCE
Praise be to God for assuring us divine inheritance:
Precious and evidently heavenly
Priceless so ever-honourable
Perfect along eternal happiness
Profitable while evoking hope
Powerful that expects humility
Numbers 19:20 Praise be to the Lord for warning us
against defiling His sanctuary with our:
Unclean heart
Unsanctified mind
Undone offerings
Unsanitary practice
Unbelieving spirit
Numbers 20:12 Praise be to the Saviour Who admonishes us
to trust Him always, and never to act as unbelieving believers:
Struggling in the wilderness of sin
Suffering in our waywardness-caused shame
Stripping ourselves of joyous worth of salvation
Separating from His will and service
Sliding back toward wisdom of self. Amen.
February 19, 2024
Fire on still water cradled by tall trees
A picturesque photograph pulling one to ease,
Dusky pink sky with spirit overseeing
Mother natures nurturance and changes in her being.
Yellow neon light patterns dominate
Gazing his creation evidently great,
The stretching sun unravels an image grand to gloat
And underneath mere man-made a modest fishing boat!
Where does our soul dwell when we are asleep,
is something we know not, yet here we are
at break of dawn, emerging from dreams deep,
back to life, where we need to strive and spar,
each day inflicting on heart, a new scar.
Evidently it’s in the dreamless state,
of which we know nothing, since thoughts abate,
is wherein in that astral realm unknown,
we are healed that nodes within may gyrate,
throbbing with heaven borne bliss, all home grown.
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