Horror and disbelief!
Numbed by it!
As one traumatically struck by
Cruelest of what does for cold eye
Expose madness.
Primal, dark! Seen from this
Age of Spirit.
Quelled of all fear, whose peace ensures
Has been smoothed o'er such Time's features
Manic with stress.
Did the Yankees win?
Without sin
Challenging monarchy rule
Characterizing King as a fool
Escaping angry courts
Exploring adventurous ports
They came to a new world
Searching for patriotic pearls
Combatting rag tag war
Against red coated boars
Who thought they knew best
Putting rebellious subjects under arrest
Charging them for throwing tea
Into the Boston Harbor Sea
Defined as freedom of speech
Protest reached
Many others
American brothers
Wanting representation when taxed
Stating facts
Until the royals surrendered
Historians remember
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 classroom hums with invisible electricity
screens glow like campfires where we gather to learn,
each tablet a window opening to forests, galaxies, ancient cities we touch with our fingertips.
We sit in circles, on cushions, at standing desks,
bodies moving like water finding its own shape,
while ideas bounce between us like light through prisms,
splitting into rainbows no one could predict.
Today we are architects building virtual bridges,
tomorrow historians interviewing grandmothers in Tokyo,
next week scientists watching cells divide on screens that see what eyes cannot.
The teacher walks among us, not above
a gardener tending different seeds,
knowing some need sun, some shade,
some time to root in silence.
And we wonder: is this learning or learning to learn,
this dance between question and search,
between knowing and discovering we've only just begun?
It started long ago.
It still and will forever remain.
Power feeds it and to its favour then lets it go.
The subnormal intelligence of the ignorant brain!
Years from now historians will say the same.
Generation after generation, decades on and on!
Why hasn’t human life mastered how to peacefully co-exist when it can split the atom and create atomic bombs?
Chaos theory states the butterfly effect may create rain!
What theory can we call it when ignorance creates pain?
Over lies, over hate, over nothing…perhaps even if it sees a black butterfly landing on a white flower?
The past blinks
The future winks
The present links
~ Historians ink
Entry in > 7 Contest
Sponsor: Rob Carmack
Date: July 29, 2025
Apocalypse
I saw the storm approaching. It had a look of evil intent
People were seeking shelter in the town's only café
I didn't like to share the place with so many
and I had to find my dog before the storm hit
I found what had been a bus shelter, a bunker from a war
only remembered by historians, or a would-be writer
The storm hit with a roar of death and insane destruction
When it was over, the town had disappeared
A field of sea green grass had taken its place, the stillness
so acute I could hear the grass incessantly whispering, that
made my dog nervous, we moved and walked on the sand
of the newborn
We could not stay still, walking on in the hope of finding
a past that could be helpful when we arrive
where the future was, not sure if the old past and the new
The future would merge into a seamless whole
The nobility, the priesthood,
The common, the slaves
A life's journey fixed,
Elected for life or
Passed from father to son.
Omens, divinations,
Predictions, reading future
They were skilled mathematicians,
Historians, keepers of knowledge
Recorded details in codices.
Books of fig bark paper
Mayans wrote, kept count
Of Sun's path, tracked Venus
With surprising Accuracy,
Marked zenith twined with beliefs
Hard workers ate well,
Worshiped their many gods
In willing exuberance
Artisans, carvers,
Traded true, cities grew
Peaceful obsidian warriors
Extravagant kings and queens
Fell to their own intelligence
Wrath of gods unfurled red-carpet
For death and destruction
Nothing to eat, nothing to carve,
Nothing to record, nothing to trade,
Nothing to fight, none left to please god
Nothing to sacrifice, simply collapsed.
They weren't spared, would we be?
i came across a case like historians
who failed to decipher scripts of old age
i failed to read his mind
who through his actions had put it on display
i failed to read his actions
kept his life locked behind the doors
never letting me in
and knowing
what he was going through
i foolishly
tagged him
blamed him
“for ruining our friendship”
the mizpah, the bond that kept us close
broke in an instant
bringing my world to an
“blackout”
my nights turned haunted again
the savior absquatulated me again
my ghosts began to rule over me again
leaving me in a state of despair
Buddha meets ... that is strange,
Announce the meet ... strange the more,
Buddha meets ... not so strange,
Announce misquote ... Buddha just wrote,
Though history ... Buddha's story,
Timing bit off ... historians scoff,
What came first; egg or chicken ... what came post; begs a question,
Christmas or Buddha ... Buddha or Christmas,
It is neither ... here nor there,
Ergo ... Therefore,
Flip a coin, heads or tails ... make your choice, while coin sails,
A guess is a guess ... my best is my best,
Here goes nothing ... substance something,
Buddha crosses time ... Christmas line a Cross
Christmas Star o'er Bethlehem ... faraway came three wise men,
Buddha is pleased with Christmas sight ... Buddha's lifetime records and write,
The nativity scene ... Buddha cites how it beamed,
Joseph and Virgin Mary, and baby Jesus makes three all the same ... Buddha scrolls down parchment that indicate advent that coined Christs' name,
Idyllic pastoral scenes of shepherds and farm animals and three wise men bearing gifts from afar ... Buddha captures the highlights breaths exhale and inhale words repetitively transform plain and not Czar.
I kinda like stupid people
I fit in
But their questions doth
Amuse
No -I usually hang about McDonald’s dressed in a uniform
I call it niche cosplay
Yes sir I do know who I am speaking to
You gave me access to your information
Although you maybe someone pretending to be you
Sorry need to explain
these are my attempts to be fired from employment
Now
if you ask me again
If you ask me again it will be a different now
Do you work here?
Do you know who you are talking to?
Do you know what time it is?
Actually heard someone coming back from lunch
That they slept in
We should make the next year coming 2026
Just miss 2025 out
Could you imagine future historians trying to figure it out
Would you like to explain yourself
Well are we talking anatomically physically
Do you need a breakdown of the word yourself
I would explain but I am unsure if you could
grasp it
Here is some drawings or a ball of tin foil to play with
You are meant to start at 8
I did
I just didn’t start here
Can you email when you have finished those reports
Dear Carl
When you have finished those reports
high spirited historians have had hissy high-jinx over alternative facts
interestingly, instilling intentional intellectual events with integrity intact
juxtaposing jurisprudence juggling judgmental journalism best they can
Keeping knowledge kosher
legalizing ledgers in the land
A wise collection of quotes.
A woman that works hard to be like a man has no ambition.
A small group of people can alter history if they are true to their mission.
The huge tree today is just a seed that chose to stay underground.
You think you want to disappear, really you just want to be found.
Only the historians among us can alter the past.
Don’t decide to change yourself, decide to be yourself at last.
If you have no destination in mind, any road will get you there.
Inside every human there it’s a treasure to unlock with care.
We cannot change the wind but we can direct the sail.
Never tie a knot in a guinea pig’s tail.
Never interrupt an enemy when they are making a mistake, ever.
Saying complicated profound comments in a simple way is clever.
I want so many things
I want to be kissed on the cheek
I want to be told
"Your hair looks so soft!
Can I feel it?"
I want to be hugged
As though I could slip away at any second
I want so many mundane things
But of course
I could never say any of that
To do so would be to break social standing
And status quo
So instead
I spout it off to the internet
Online
Or in a journal
Where faceless beings
Or future historians
Might read it and feel
The mortifying horror of asking
All of us agreeing
To pretend we don't want it too
Once upon a time it was called the Great War
Alright it wasn’t a great war said the dead
Not according to the unknown soldiers
Blown away somewhere out there
That’s war they say
According to the politicians and historians
A memory getting dimmer yet no less sadder
Each passing day from one war to another
Some wars are of a spiritual nature no less a war
I don’t know why the orders were given
that’s for the history books and politicians
Slogans are a distraction like a kiss
From Judas Iscariot
Politicians with Stalin’s grin do it best I fear
With great rhymes hate ends with fate
Not a great war nothing is great about war I think
The sun shone gloriously but no one noticed
They had the last supper of bread and wine
On both sides every side posters and
paintings of Jesus Christ suffering on a cross
When we all know He rose from the dead
Frank Black Blacharczyk
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