Our love for our resilient Haiti
Remains steadfastly unconditional.
Our love for this beloved country
Remains obviously emotional.
For a quarter of a century,
The others did not do too much,
For this yesteryear paradise island.
For more than a dozen years,
The incompetent and spurious leaders,
The opponents and the exiled ones
Also ruled this precious piece of land.
So far, no significant improvement…
Corruption, theft, piratry, poverty,
Kidnappings, death, mismanagement
Lies, excuses and misery …
This is not the hell that our forefathers died for…
I can tell you more, I can prove you more.
God Almighty, there is a constant and eternal search
For real leadership, unlike the bad ones
That we have had unfortunately over the last centuries.
We are tired of seeing Haiti among the poorest countries.
Our love for Haiti
Is sadly emotional.
Our love for this poverty stricken country
Remains simply unconditional.
Copyright© January 2010, Hebert Logerie, All Rights Reserved
Hébert Logerie is the author of several poetry books.
You bled, Haiti—
not from your sins,
but from theirs.
1994 they came, not to heal,
but to haunt.
To wrap democracy in boots,
and silence in oil-drenched contracts.
America—
not a land,
but a machinery of ruin.
You did not restore—
you erased.
You did not rebuild—
you ravaged.
You took a sacred island
and tore it from within.
In the name of liberty,
you planted despair.
In the name of order,
you burned futures.
Your touch is a curse.
From Congo to Kabul,
from Libya to Port-au-Prince,
you leave behind ash
and policy papers
signed with blood.
And Haiti—
once the fire that burned empires—
now whispers under rubble.
But whispers are seeds,
and one day,
they rise.
The world watches.
The angels turn their backs.
The soil remembers.
Let the day come
when your empire falls,
and the children of Haiti
dance again
beneath a sky
no longer haunted by drones.
Hope barely breathes
its chest tight beneath the smoke
as grief spreads like fire
through streets that once knew laughter.
Haiti, now a land of shadows
where joy is muffled by gunshots
and dreams lie broken
on corners no longer safe to dream in.
Yet still, the sun dares to rise
a quiet defiance in the sky
reminding us that even in ruins
light remembers the way home.
And as long as that light survives
as long as one voice still prays
We all should know this:
Haiti will not die in this darkness.
Syria’s Christians and Haiti
The first Christian church was built in Syrian, as I write this the horror is killing them the new death cult regime in Syria, a cult we give money to, and not mentioned by Western media as Israel continues to bomb Gaza to their hearts content This is only possible when the bombs are free of charge courtesy of the USA
On the home front, we read about erectile dysfunction, no they are telling me who thought
my own problems were caused by the old age
Haiti, the sad state is in the news again, last time
I was there, Papa Doc, was in power he employed
Thugs, sunglasses, and sports shirts to keep order
but they harassed shopkeepers to hand over money, when Papa died his son took over, he was an idiot and any resembles of order fell apart
Port-au-Prince was a beautiful city, but now it is a vast criminalized slum, Haiti has always been poor and met resistance from other countries who were against a black sovereign state. It never got the help needed from white societies who said slaves could not a country make
The nonstop negative news or publicities on Haiti
Hurt tremendously and disturbingly
The relentless or constant bashings of all Haitians
Twinge and twist my heart like cancer patients
On their death beds, who are resigned, hopeless
Penniless, helpless, and spiritless.
Haiti needs a mega break from all the powerful parasites
That are still exploiting our precious resources at countless sites
While concomitantly exploring and impoverishing our peasants
Our innocent siblings who perilously work for crumbs and cents.
It is time that all truths are spoken or be told
It is time that we unearth, unfurl or unfold
All vile plots so the world can witness the premeditated lies.
Papa Noël is a well designed invention in disguise
At Christmas time, the hurts are excruciating
And the misery is objectionable and nauseating.
Copyright © December, 2021, Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved
Hébert Logerie is the author of several books of poetry.
Let's sever all the chains
Through all types of pains
In order to get there
Let's take the trains
In order to get there
We must fight for our rights
We are not afraid to turn days
Into wonderful and starry nights
In order to enjoy better journeys.
Let's break all the chains
Together
Through various unbearable pains
Let's take the trains
Together
In order to reach the mountaintop
Ladies and gentlemen, this is no small trap
We are determined to get there
It is the right thing to do on this sphere.
Let's cut the odious chains
Amidst all plethora of pains
With all our might
Let's take the speedy trains
In the middle of the fight
We will turn nights into days
In order to enjoy better journeys
The struggle is a very long one
This is a battle that we will win.
Copyright © May 2021, Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved.
Hébert Logerie is the author of several collections of poetry.
Taboo
I can't keep my eyes off
Your rosy peach complexion
Just hanging in the warm
Haitian breeze...
So close but firmly shut.
Guarded by your spiky skin
As if to say wait for you to ripen
under the hot August sun.
To see you smile with
black pearls exposed,
To see you smile
Open and ready
to be plucked...
I want you if only to die
by your poisonous embrace.
Just to taste the nutty flavor
on my tongue. Oh, eight weeks
will be too long.
We saw blood on the leaves
Yeah! Blood filling the roots
Our ancestors hanging from trees
Their blood flowing out to the slave seas
Chained crews taken
To the cane fields
Haiti toppled from the outside, see reels
Shaken down to it’s knees
What they set out to achieve
Ain't no lie, ain't no dream
The enslaved Screamed
Our Blood on the leaves
Copyright March 4, 2023 by Brian Pierre-Alexander
© All Rights Reserved
Boom! was all we heard
houses sunk into the earth
the foul smell of death
Another heavy blow
upon the Caribbean home
earthquake took it's toll
Homage to Haiti
Haiti,I've loved you in my heart
since I was a child
for you, I'd like to live a long time
your lilacs sing your joy,
your jasmines,your daisies,
your carnation perfume enchants
your visitors
Homage to you,dear Haiti
Land of greenery and flowers,
your abundants lakes and rivers,
Your verdant fields
Attract the visitors
Homage to you,dear Haiti
Land of dignity and honor
Land of fresh air and of fruit,
your always courageous men,
your always laborious women,
Your always joyous children
Homage to you,dear Haiti
Land of dignity and honor
His demons come at night.
Creep up on him at his low.
Horrifying moans an screams to tow.
At what I fear to know.
They torment him,
Ferment him.
In his nightly slumber.
He’s more at peace in the waking hours.
Before the bottle, cause’s him to topple.
Into the abyss of nightmarish twist’s.
He says little of his history.
But hints at the source.
Of hell’s gate keepers and
Their relentless force.
Like bates outta Haiti.
Them banshee screams.
To once again torment
His sordid dreams.
After Agnes Krampe
Upon a lone palm,
they build their communal
nest —determinedly— but pause
to study the berry-hued
cinder blocks of the hillside
shanty town, short lives
stacked on short lives.
One bird watches
the woman plucking laundry
from a fraying washline
as if shirts were passion fruit
on a vine, as if the vibrant reds
could placate hunger.
Another bird eyes
several threads unraveling,
temptingly soft, so close,
but the woman looks up
stays the flight as she entreats,
will you not sing me a new song,
will you never fly me home?
Scars For Haiti
The tears of my tears splatter into flames
My eyes starve from fidgeting forces falling
floors
Though, they say life occurs in cycles
Mr. Matthew came and it was not even for a
miss
The grounds left to wail for the lost bliss.
- Olaoluwa Ola-Williams.
2016.
# Kunta
# ForHaiti
What do the poor hang onto?
When all the trees are gone.
When hearths are quaked to crumbs...
With nowhere to hide from the whirling gray eye of the storm.
In the afterbirth, show boaters will arrive.
One spoonful at a time. To feed a million shaken lives.
One blanket to warm the sharky shoals.
One cross to shelter the fractured mast of hope.
Soon after, show boaters will flee to silver ships.
Setting sail for gilded homes.
Wrapped tight around paper souls.
Far removed from Haiti's howling winds.
That lick the salt from burned black bones...
No invitation to board these ships of privilege.
Like there were so many years ago.
Copyright © 2015
11.13.2016
1:22pm
Royal blood from afar,
far from Africa,
Africa a torn and raped
land by European hands
First land of freedom to rise,
but segregated by a mountainside
and corrupt politicians on both
sides by greed and neglect, when all
anyone needed was love and respect
Respect yourselves, and expect to rise
great Nation, surpass their creation
with the help of other Nations
Bond and build, build, build your
land, a land for your people to
stand, stand and deny others to
rape and kill, kill only that
which for your stomachs to fill,
train Haitians with skill
A Haitian Police to instill and
maintain peace Haitians see,
see with Haitian eyes, not
another European disguise,
once demised, but not despised
by HIM on High, hold your head
high, HE will not deny
Haitians, prepare your Nation for
this great blessing, and declare
your royal blood from afar, once
was and still can be, a global Star
by: LPruitt 12:59pm
Edited: 12.15.2015/9:15pm
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