The plumber man fell asleep
with ash on his lips, losing
track of his cerebral train
John Boy with his stained new teeth
and guns of oil on his stone hands
Paining tires, chainsaws, the
garage ceiling
seasoning the turning of a leaf
John Boy's hounds piss on the porch
warping wood with smoke and sulfur
Is shooting blind since the judge took
his gun from his holster
John Boy stopped drinking a little too late
his brain full of holes, just like
a tree trunk to a woodpecker's peck
As he drunkenly recants the psalm
'I get no respect!'
All I want is peace and peace
In the west, in the east
In the north and the south
To close your mouth
When you're happy
To stop the misery
During the passage
We only need one page
To express our feelings and pain
All we need is PEACE. We die in vain
Every single day
Yes, we need to pray
More and more often
So we can go to heaven
When we die
This is no lie
We can smell a new year
Let's start a new prayer
All we want is to have PEACE
On top of the list
All we need is Universal World Peace
And to leave this earth in one piece
While having a glitzy feast
No drones, no bullets, no wars, no lies, no tragedies
No guns, no deadly bombs, no cannons and no bullies.
Copyright © December 2018, Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved
Hébert Logerie is the author of several books of poetry.
Guns and Chomsky
Professor Chomsky was not wrong
Talking to Epstein, great men tend to be naïve
and impressed by a well-placed question
about philosophy, as this school of thoughts
have many answers
Humanity has a breaking point because we
secretly mad, but of course, keep this insight
to ourself
That is why no one should be allowed to have
guns, or pistols, at home, those who need can
Belong to a club and leave the weapon there
When going and not being tempted to kill his wife
like the man who shot his wife ten times and
only wounded her
Other prisoners in the jail that they sent him to
will have great fun with that
I served in the Royal Navy for 18th month, but
When they wanted me to hold a gun, I refused
They sent me back to a small office where
I spent time making food lists.
Sure, I know the argument, the right to wear
arms to protect your family, not to kill their
own flesh and blood before shooting themselves
Spring is around the corner
Pretty soon
There will be no more ice and werewolves in the streets
Gone will be all types of fire power and terror
Gone will be the bullies, the thugs and the creeps
In the nick of time, when the soil is hot and steamy
All the goons, bandits and henchmen will be gone
Disappeared and dysfunctional like a dirty
And rusty gun
I cannot wait, I cannot wait
No more executions, tears, chaos and hate.
Copyright © January 2026 Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved.
Hébert Logerie is the author of several poetry collections.
RITTENHOUSE NO HARM
HE CAME IN WITH A FIREARM
PRETTI BOUGHT THE FARM
In a coiling maze
mortars fume.
Crimson cadavers
dye the verdant soil.
Poison spears plunge
craters into young flesh.
Scattered moans rise
into the sorrowing air
of deafened canons
and carbon.
No succour or welcome
for the maimed.
Only ghosts
of peace.
In the church they worship spiders, on a billion screens
demented oracles influence delusions.
Men drunk on anger oil their blood machines,
women ingest the pennies of their dreams,
and children with guns
assassinate the future in the schoolyard.
At the Union Hall they’re slurping poison soup.
The flesh rots from their faces. “Who are you?”
they ask each other’s mirrors.
Men scream at machines in isolation,
women can’t catch their breath, and children with guns
take aim at the morning.
-------------------------------------------------
The bullets swore, “We’re retiring today!
No shooting—there must be a new way!”
So they sat in the gun,
Sipping tea in the sun,
And said, “Humans… we’re on holiday!”
But the warlords all bark, “Shoot! It’s the way!
We fix broken skulls every day!”
So they shout with a grin,
“Crack a leg! Cave a chin!”
Though deep down they know peace outshines foul play.
Westbury where skyscrapers scratch clouds,
And backstreet murmur under glowing hum,
The metro slumbers,but terror thunderous crowds.
Laaities hone okapis where mumbled thugs come,
Each gangway a rabbit warren of cries,
And moms grab the dark,awaiting some.
In kangaroo courts blood thirsty 28s and 27s rise,
A revolver roars,the night asks but none says a prayer
While guiltlessness is sold in whispered lies.
Yet in this war,the lane hides myths rare,
Of youngsters who dodge the deep state,running fast,
Their footprints rebound,shivering through the air.
Westbury your skyscrapers check out the die cast,
Each brick a testifier,every lantern a guide,
The twilight is long,but hope remains at last.
The matriarchs of sections keep life supplied,
Their pleading a vein hope under mortar veins,
Where cowards hide,the soul of Westbury won't die
Now, Mr. President, stick to your guns
Hamas releases all hostage by this Sunday eve
~ or else Hamas is forever done
Social Media;
Perfecting Hysteria.
Push button Reply;
Gas lightight the why.
Sticks and stones...
Blood and bones...
Reds and blues...
Roaring 'Boos'...
Silence begets silence;
Speech yields violence,
Passion to fight,
Stomping the blight.
Stuck in motion;
Ignoring all notion.
Frantically turning;
All paths churning.
Ground faulting;
Conscience halting.
Lies swirling;
Truth curling.
Confusion surrounds;
Chaos abounds.
Champion humility;
End the futility.
Plug the ears;
Muzzle the fears.
Pause the trigger;
Quell the vigor.
Close the eyes;
Unveil the guise
Force the thought;
Lest be bought.
I pray every morning I’ll be blessed
I’m not yet…but I’m trying….
to understand when we ban books in schools
before we ban guns
Why we’re more afraid of our children learning
Than we are of our children dying.
So many murders it's overkill
but no one cares on Capitol Hill
and some are less concerned
it seems to me
with the killing of the living
(whose taxes pay the wages of sin)
to each U.S. Supreme Court employee
than that of the unborn
or perhaps I should be more forgiving
tho' lives are broken they remain unspoken
on the Washington White House South Lawn
but when someone says,
'Guns don't kill people, people do,'
it drives me to vexation
as I've never heard someone died
of a drive-by strangulation
Have you?
To be black
Is to constantly run
Maybe that's why they stereotype
Saying we are fast
Speaking of fast
That's what they say when a black girl has a nice ass
Because being black and being a woman
Means that it's our fault
And we deserve it
To be black
Is to constantly fight back
With the hope we won't be attacked
Funny how we are the aggressors
But when we look at history
They kill us for being
For existing
For having the audacity to exist
To breathe the same air they do
Which is why they probably put their knees on our necks
As they take away our breath
Saying we cause them stress
While they suffocate our heads with the hatred they spread
To be black
Is to be punished
For our own deaths
Where we are murdered
And they are praised
For a life they took away
All in the name
Of wanting to keep the world safe
From people who wanted peace
And were met with a gunshot
If we dared to speak
To break the silence
That they've spent years trying to instill into our internal systems
Until there's nothing left
But to accept
That to be black
Is to forever be quiet
What's wrong with them Americuns
forever pointing fingers
always pointing guns
searching for someone to blame
never changes
stays the same
with 'Love thy neighbour,'
and 'Thou shalt not kill,'
religious to the core
hypocrites to boot
and what's more
shooting people children too
wondering why innocent die
and yet they haven't got a clue
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