The world is burning
We all look on
Some fan the flames
and some are playing games
People's lives are worth less than cattle
They shake, they stomp, they rattle the cage
Where within they've placed
His, her, and your name
They take their guns and wave them in your face
Not one, not two, but Eight!
Take their place
Performing a ritual in the public face
In private, who knows-
We ALL know
What happens to those of another race
Can't you see?
The flag of the land of the free is burning
Is the page finally turning?
A long mile I have to go,
Through silent winds and inner glow.
I seek the truth the world won’t show—
Yet in my soul, it lives below.
Truth is fire, burning bright,
Turning every falsehood light.
Like the sun in rising might,
It clears the dark, restores the right.
A long mile I have to go,
Where buried seeds of kindness grow.
I search for humanity’s glow—
Fading fast, yet moving slow.
Humanity joins heart to heart,
Heals the wounds that pull apart,
Wipes out hate with gentle art,
Ending bias from the start.
A long long mile I still must go,
To fan the flames that faintly glow—
For truth and love already flow
Within my soul… I only grow.
barter for the bellmaker
fire the forge, fill the flue
cast cast-iron chimes
chime for time's renew
fire the forge, fend the flash
fan the flames, feed the fire
cast cast-iron cauldrons
cast a spell, catch desire
bitter for the bellmaker
fires the forge, fans the same
casts cast-iron tears
cannot catch desire's flame
May we be blessed as we build the fire that lights our life….
to surround ourselves with people here about…
Who are there to fan the flames…
not put that fire out.
1393
Yvain, the son of the Earl of Foix, did painfully expire
At a Royal Masquerade Ball as his costume caught fire
And a most tragic yet quite strange event, did transpire
As many others all around, tried to fan the flames away
Aimery Poitiers, a French nobleman also died that way
As did two more in 1393 at the King’s Bal des Ardents
Babes. Raised to outfit an agenda. The element of nature versus nurture. A pitbull is a dog like any other as is a Jew is a human like any other. Babes. Any dog any human, raised to be a weapon will be lethal. Babes. Any dog any human honed like a tool sharpened like a blade loaded like a gun is capable of being wielded. Babes. Breed bans and antisemitism feed ignorance punish innocence and fan the flames of the wielder’s fire. Babes. However destroyed at least the dogs do not have their humanity to lose.
on shredded babies
of pitbulls and zionists ~
monsters made not born
***
A journey that beckons to explore and expand,
Awaits to awaken my spirits,
A path unwinding, where I take my length,
One false move opens the Pandora's box,
Shatters the bricks and mortar of my dreams,
But I'll arise just like the Thar,
I'll take the leap, into the great unknown,
My heart's desire, my soul's deepest design,
The passion that burns, a soul alight,
Aerospace, a realm where my heart surprises,
A relentless pursuit, to explore,
Design and build cosmic messengers,
The thrill beyond compare,
For people, sky is the limit,
For me, sky is my home to foster my dreams,
Let the flame in me, guide me through,
Fan the flames of curiosity,
Inspired by space and the celestial chariots!
It's true things are hard to unfix
Nature's playing games and dirty tricks
Instead of games
Gonna fan the flames
Until winter and spring intermix
The gods are angry
and growing angrier.
Poseidon views his beautiful ocean
despoiled with garbage,
poisoned and polluted
by heedless humans.
He rages to Hephaestus
and Vulcan, gods
of creation, but, when angered,
purveyors of
fire and destruction.
He exhorts Jupiter, highest
of the gods, for retribution.
And now
the world is ablaze or
buried in snow and ice.
Boreas, god of the North Wind,
unleashes catastrophic winds
that fan the flames
in one region,
turn snow-laden, below-zero blasts
onto another.
Cities are flooded
or turned to dust in droughts.
Crops fail.
Disbelieve in us, they say,
at your own peril.
Why I Love Writing Poetry?
Did I mean why I love writing poems?
Nevertheless, I love writing poems or poetry:
To simply have fun, make others happy,
Inspire and defend others; to fan the flames
Of fairness, and to seek justice, fairness for the weak,
The innocents, the underprivileged, and the sick;
I can go on and on until I lose consciousness.
I love expressing myself with elegance and neatness.
Ordinary jerks always make fun of the Poets, that's not new;
And the Poets know darn well how to take care of them too.
Poets have thick skin; they are Heroes without fears.
They struggle, fight, write, raise hell and wipe their tears.
Sorry, if I am going astray, that's what I do best,
Sometimes, like any human being, I like to make a mess.
That's why I love writing essays, poems or poetry:
To simply have fun, and to make others happy.
At the same time, I want others to criticize, and castigate.
I make my own decisions, and can determine my own fate.
Poets have thick skin, and by nature have no fears.
Please swallow your frown, your smile, and wipe your tears.
Hebert Logerie Monday, January 26, 2015
Some love provoking the comfortable
Raising the ire of those set in their way
Stirring up tension among the implacable,
Start embers glowing, then walk away.
They wear the smirk of self-satisfaction,
Troublemakers are consistently annoying
Making inane arguments for a reaction,
Argument for argument’s sake enjoying.
Nasty creatures they who poke the fire
Leaving disgruntled feelings in their wake,
Seems they always want to nurture ire
Between their companions discord make.
With every intention to walk unscathed
While hurting feelings of foes and friends
Ever quick to fan the flames at issues raised
Then especially reluctant to make amends.
Written September 24, 2022
The brighter colors are the first to go
as everything first fades to shades of grey
then eventually, to black or white.
Valid reasons come down to yes or no
then questioning to whom it is I pray;
while saying you are wrong and they are right.
Soon, the media put on their game show
feeding biased images day on day
to fan the flames of some unwanted fight.
The bleeding hearts come out with feelings faux
"We're on the side of right," they loudly bray.
Unless, of course, the mood swings overnight.
Soon, milling crowds with placards start to grow
authored, with many worthless things to say.
A self-backslapping, partying campsite.
Among this growing pile of bull guano
the ugly truth of war is cast away
unless it's in a big news anchor's sight.
My gorge rises, my blood boils.
Exasperated I bite my envenomed tongue.
Incensed I spout mad words
that have no meaning
defending my attitude,
maintain my poise.
I bait, fret and nag,
like a tantalizing volcano
that has yet to decide
whether to erupt or not.
Don't answer me back,
Twill only fan the flames
of my irritable ire.
For if I erupt, then
there is no going back.
Don't goad me into a quarrel,
my lava burns.
So beware.
She leaves never to return.
Good.
After all what is she?
A lazy domestic cleaner
that performs half the work assigned
And get paid in full for it.
My wife smiles.
She’s glad the cleaner is gone for good.
She is too sexy for comfort.
You never kiss me like you used to do,
Or say you want me so I know it’s true.
And even though we still might get it on,
There’s no denying, babe, the thrill is gone.
These days the pattern’s gotten too routine.
There’s no excitement when we’re on the scene.
Can’t say exactly how things got this way,
Just know the dance we do is no ballet.
Our lovin’s nothin’ but a fire drill;
Go through the motions, but without the thrill.
Instead of heat, we end up with a chill.
Our lovin’s nothin’ but a fire drill.
But babe, let’s say we give it one more try.
Let’s reach on back to when our souls could fly.
We did it then and we could do it now.
Just lay it down and let me show you how.
So, no more looking for the fast way out.
Let’s take our time; that’s what it’s all about.
Let love’s fierce sweetness fan the flames until
We’ve made it more than just a fire drill.
She drove four hours
Totally unplanned visit
We were delighted
Loving her so much!
There was much sorrow.
We wisely kept our counsel.
Not wanting to fan the flames.
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