A careful constructed system
that’s designed to lead to failure
few escapes, leaving the rest
to be taken advantage of
those who escape
reaches a certain level
then prey on the weak
by selling hopes and dreams,
hope and dreams
that rarely come true.
The game is being sold as
the truth remains concealed
while those continue to profit
off the ignorance and the pain
emotions get exploited,
generating energy curren-cy
that keeps the system employed
as it thrives on the sufferer.
Extortion and manipulation
hijacks the mind, turning
you into willing participants
of your own torment,
creating a tyrannical force
that’s impossible to beat.
Free-will in disguise is a
predetermined force
coering you to endure in
a careful constructed system,
a system that’s designed
to maximize human suffering.
In ivory towers, oblivious reigns,
Blind to the weight of scholarly chains,
Reports unread, insights ignored,
The fruits of labour, rashly scored.
Heads turn away from midnight oil,
Unseeing depths of earnest toil,
Quality dismissed with careless ease,
As if research grew on trees.
Passion exploited, dedication scorned,
Complexity of thought, summarily shorn,
"Just another paper," they decree,
Failing to grasp what they can't see.
Understanding falters at the gate,
Where ignorance sits in high estate,
Dismissing years of careful thought,
As if such work was dearly bought.
In halls of power, a tragic play,
Where value's judged by yesterday,
And those who push the bounds of knowing,
Find recognition never growing.
O, the irony of learned spaces,
Where wisdom often hides its traces,
And those entrusted with the helm,
Fail to fathom their realm.
Democracy ain’t
What we imagine it to
Be. A disaster!
Communism is as
Bad. Exploitation is bad
Everywhere, my friends.
Same strange lies
Our world is in trouble
Cry and pray.
Copyright © December 2023, Hébert Logerie, all rights reserved.
Hébert Logerie is the author of several collections of poems.
The poor become rich, a dream come true,
But as they climb the ladder, they start anew,
Acting just as the rich had done,
Exploiting others, their power now won.
For in this society, there's always a game,
Someone on top, and someone to blame,
The cycle continues, a never-ending tale,
Of the rich getting richer, and the poor always frail.
The story of exploitation,
A tale as old as time,
The poor stay poor, the rich get richer,
A never-ending climb.
Artificial stories and ways,
To indulge the poor and waste their days,
Entertaining distractions to keep them down,
A sad truth, in every town.
The rich make the rules, the poor obey,
No matter what they do, they can't escape the fray,
Trapped in a cycle of poverty and pain,
With no hope of breaking free again.
But one day, the poor may rise,
Their voices heard, their will to survive,
A force to be reckoned with, a power to behold,
No longer will they be bought and sold.
The story may change, the ending yet to be told,
But until then, the poor will always be poor,
And the rich will continue to get richer,
Exploitation, a never-ending lore.
We first met when I was young.
Curious, expectant, open-minded
We explored each other freely,
Communing face to face
Sharing everything
Seeking each other's company, together
Under the open sky.
Middle aged we met again.
Striving, over-reaching, exploitative
We looked to our own advantage.
Stormy clouds gathering
On the horizon,
Presaging dangerous times ahead of us
Under the threat'ning sky.
Now I am older I see her
Dull-eyed, disconsolate, all too aware
Of what we were and have become.
Her cycle confused,
Stripped bare, ripped apart
Craving to be isolate, for solitude
Under the darkened sky.
She will still be there when I go.
Forgotten, unrecognised, unaware
Of what we once had and had lost.
Her nature restored,
Newly clothed, new born
Thriving in her renewed joy in life
Under the spring sun sky.
Printing paper money,
which they so adore.
Point a finger at US,
claim we owe more.
How does that figure?
Who keeps the score?
All legal trickery,
with deceit and war.
Beyond Sensibility,
They have no answer for.
Exploiting, We the People,
Whom they Ignore.
Is there something so unique about us
It must be studied
Rats in a maze
Trapped between testing success and error
Predictable responses to critical impetus
The same trickery carefully edited
For the next information gathering phase
Caught between a fortune and a failure
Rats in a maze
The monkey in a box
Predictable programming for gaining essentials
Problem solutions for subsistence
Collecting data for analysed survey's
Finding ways to unpick the locks
And use this predilection
Towards abusive human exploitation
The rights of rats are insignificant
The plans of tyrants prove their competence
THE EYE WORLD EYE LAW
In yet another human experiment
Insignificance
The monkey in a box
Dams, mining, extraction and fracking!
Logging, trawling, oops this urban expansion!
Plastic, toxic sludge and fertilisers,
Industrial revolution, Mass production!
Rising pollution and depleting fossil fuel.
Expanding population, you greedy humans!
Squeezing nature and melting glaciers
Chocking gases creating Climate conundrum.
Speeding extinction, your helpless restrictions.
Destructing ozone layers, eroding my very foundations!
The earth in pain whispers to me:
Why are you causing this depredation?
Look at my dereliction!
Please stop this destruction.
WHISPER TO ME Ii CONTEST
Sponsored by: Regina Riddle
Date: 14th June; 2020
Earnings
help wanted
long evenings
a service toil of trays
which exhausted smile
the tip
Earnings
high cut mini
her service
always the management's eye
for sex
The table shines
coins in ashtrays
ashes in plates
faces crowded with food
Her service
"Are you finished?"
always the managements eye
for neatness
Earnings
nightly telephone music
always the same
always the management's ear
for music
Rude
they were loud
and their tip was conservative
Earnings
final tally
her husband walked out
her child to clothe
a decent respectable living
her service
always the management's eye
for atmosphere
Published Black Buzzard Press - 1982
A slow unravelling of features
And personality on the mountain slopes
By play between clouds and Sun
Two hours of matchless play
My heart in a body paralyzed
Such is a place I came to stay.
At the very edge of vision on a mountainscape
Silky white sheets of snow on display
I cannot make out the colours of today
Somewhere the menancingly dark
Nearer me a downy grey
I wondered what ahead lay.
The covers came over and down all day
Pine trees never to be sun-burnt
Deforestation to aforestation
Many many young pine tree plantations
Roots lying exposed on damaged earth stations
Pining baby pines
21st century victims of re-exploitation.
I tremble
with thoughts
of what might have been
I let an opportunist
within my circle of trust
his charms and guises
Slipping a rufi in my wine
and too naïve to question
my sudden lapse of memory
I tremble
with thoughts
of what might have been
I was like putty in his hands
it happened so easily
I was so naïve
I feel shocked and vulnerable
I feel the miracle
of being here and being me
My destiny was in the hands of
someone who could not be trusted
my luck hanging on a string
AP: 1st place 2020
Posted on March 3, 2019
Exploitation
Exploitation - that’s the name of the game
Exploitation- Just so much total pain
Should be torture, criminality
But no never – not when it’s done to me.
A whole life lost
With no way out
That it’s so wrong
There’s just no doubt.
Not quite perfect
Not good enough for them
As image means everything
To these particular men.
Because I’m old, fat ugly,
I don’t stand a chance
They will not let me be myself
Refusing me romance
So I do it all – EVERYTHING,
Then it’s stolen
And they say
It’s not a sin.
It's all shared out,
Between my 'friends'
So they wont tell
How bad it ends.
My mind plundered
My heart broken
Just how much
Remains unspoken.
When is a crime not a crime?
When it’s applied to me.
Even though they have it all,
They still won’t set me free.
FREEDOM OF SPEECH - FREEDOM OF THOUGHT - FREEDOM OF EXPRESSION
AN END TO REAL SLAVERY
When God declared man the master
of creation
I don't think he said
Go and kill everything that breathes
All I see is carcases of elephants
And rhinos
And a.million tusks being burnt to
ashes
Hunters with arrows for buffalo
meat
Poachers with rifles shooting
ranchers
For ivory
For export to Vietnam
And farmers chopping trees
For charcoal
And expansive cropping
Dried up streams
And empty skies
No strong roots to stop erosion
anymore
No wild berries for birds anymore
Where did all the green go?
Who stole our animals from the
zoo?
How many trees did you plant this
year?
I see El Nino storms,
Is that Mother Earth dropping a
tear?
Is she grieving
At the cruel hand of man's
exploitation?
Exploitation of a Name
There will soon be a line of ladies knickers coyly called
Mindela, the sanctimonious will deny knowledge of this
by those who care to protest? The Mandela name is gold
dust and must be exploited before collective memories
fail and a child will ask: Who was Mandela? “ Mandela!
“Look up Wikipedia”, child. There is good wine made by
an estate called Mandela´s, a relation that has the right
to use the name. (the great man didn´t drink)
Mandela chocolate, sweets and black puddings, all that can
help sell anything, like beer, or booze so fiery it will give you
the courage he had- if not for long. I will write a poem just
the way the untouchable man would have liked it, of irony
and smiles free of bitterness of the years he had to endure
and still lose his name in the churning miasma of capitalism.
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