A European among starving nations.
Some of the things I see
still startle me.
Pangs of hunger know no humiliation.
Starving children, their faces ashen,
with sunken eyes and bloated bellies,
God forsaken, gourmandize what they can seize
from mouths of dogs in dog day heat.
To the hungry soul
every bitter thing is sweet.
So you have to accept someone else’s concerns
If you still care to go abroad
Are you corrupt, do you get the returns
Do you hide them as an experienced fraud
What they call a survey is an interrogation
There is no presumption of innocence
You are pledged guilty because your nation
Is all badly spoken which shortens the chance
To get anywhere you would want to fly
Because you, and not somebody else, just you
Must stop the war, so they'll decide
If you’re worthy to taste their national stew
Isn’t it quieter to take a bus ride
At home, with no worries about bank statements
About who are your parents, dead or alive
The driver won’t bother about their status
None of that humiliation is guaranteed
But isn’t it too clever that people get stressed
For intention to travel abroad, when they need
Just a fortnight break for a much deserved rest?
it’s 12 again
i find my bare arms pressed up against the hard mirror/shower door
it lives a double life
my breath fogs up the glass
it keeps me warm
razor-like metal dig into my fingers as i grip the tweezers
it’s ironic how something so sharp can bring such comfort.
i stare at the inky dot right above the thicket of hair i call my eyebrow
only visible to the scrutinizing eye inches away
the painted lady on the surface of that unyielding metal smiles at me
i do not notice.
her unforgiving claws disguised as the honed tweezer tips stab into the flesh surrounding that jet-black dot
doing all she can to extract the imperfection
and when she finally succeeds
and the uprooted dot reveals its true identity as a helpless strand of hair
whose only crime was its misfortunate growth
i feel no remorse — rather, relief —
only the twinge of pain
and another lasting scarlet scab
right above my eyebrow
reminds me of the wave of shame soon to come
i soon forget
as i spot another dot
desiring to reignite my ritual of comfort.
I found you among the ashes
and we traded myth for fact
in the dark like lightning flashes
the truth surged in a final act.
Ironic, isn't it, or maybe sad
what you finally learned
now that everything we had
has burned.
As I aged, space did contract
Windows closed, freedom cracked.
I reflected on time wasted, lost
Resentment had a dreadful cost.
The joke is we could have sat
and talked through the situation
If you had faced that
reality involved humiliation.
Self-insight gives perspective
Don't have to be a great detective.
I suppose it's good you turned the page.
We were just a subplot on a larger stage
For in the distance a tsunami comes
A blackness greater than ten suns
Swept clean by a greater rage
Into the jaws of a new dark age.
.
The real purpose of the visa tourism
Is the humiliation of the guests
Its “us and them” post tribal atavism
The applicants are treated like suspects
The so called survey list interrogates
Some questions that can't be rationalized
To play a reason to pass through the border gates
Despite prejudice that you are crimnalized
The papers you submit might look suspicious
They may refuse you with “I am not satisfied”
Refunds are not provided, you’re fictitious
And anyway, a fool that tried to lie
It turns to be a huge list of rejections
It gives an argument to blow the world away
But I won’t press that button, waiting for objections
If more objections they would like to say.
Humiliation
I look at the ground, my cheeks flushing red,
I don’t need to look at them , I can feel their gazes fixated on me,
My breath is as shaky as my hands,
The lights are blinding, and I can barely see the crowd, but maybe that’s a good thing,
I hope I wiped away the tears completely, the hurtful words of that message still lingering in my mind,
True panic sets in, when I realise, I couldn’t remember the lyrics of the song,
Now I will just have to act and mouth along,
The message is the only words I can think of,
I learned these lyrics so many times, yet one hurtful text made it seem like I didn’t,
I see a camera flash in the crowd, and my breath becomes quick,
The conductor shoots a stern look in my direction,
Suddenly, I can remember the lyrics,
Relief numbs out the panic, and I can finally sing,
I place a smile upon my face,
Just breathe, relax it will all be okay.
A sharp prick of a sarcastic needle,
some helpless scars tease and taunt.
The burglar took everything away,
innocent words, yet memories haunt.
Keeps turning back the hands of time
a frozen fish in a blanket of shame.
The cold mind drowns into darkness
slippery abyss...is it only me to blame?
A prisoner yearning to be free of pain,
picks up the broken glasses of assault.
But trapped in hijack of his own fear
squirms in rejection, is all only my fault?
Me with all my embarrassing moments,
in the realm of psyche, has to fight a battle.
Till I don't care what others think of me
says a volcano heart, in a violent rattle.
I thought at your fiftieth we would make up,
I saved every drop to buy you a new Ford.
Your Royce is still sweet, but it needs a backup—
Not a Lincoln, a Mustang I could afford.
But you threw the keys back at me in fury,
You let your friends mock me with horrid laughter.
On our disputes, you turned them to our jury—
They reveled, munching on our private matter.
You called me names you'd never used before them,
You left me unanchored in a wave of shame—
An abyss where you left my pleasance's scum,
Then heaped on me a full load of scorn and blame.
Is dating a prettier lady a sin?
Drown me in more shame—it quenches not the flame.
The more you dump me in your emotive bin,
The more she lifts me back into her love-frame.
-
Contest: Pick-A-Title, Vol 52
Contest Judged: June 14th, 2025 4:11:00 PM
Sponsor: Edward Ibeh
Placement: Third
I call her Ms. H
because names are easier
than saying—
I was too much.
Too soon.
Too wrong.
She isn’t loud.
She doesn’t speak.
She waits—
in the gap
between what I gave
and what you didn’t take.
Ms. H isn’t you
laughing at me.
She’s the one who dusts me off
when I offer my
beating heart—
just for you to
forget it on your way out.
She’s the one who sits with me
after you left,
and we sit quietly as the heart
slowly
stops
beating.
She’s always there,
just outside the light.
Her raven pupils so clear
they reflect my entire life—
and say,
Look. That was you.
I don’t want to look.
But I do.
And I stay.
_________________
Note:
Written on June 5th, 2025
Contest Title: Pick-A-Title, Vol 52 - Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Edward Ibeh
The bitterness has become a revelation, a recognition of desolation that I have come to appreciate. Wrap me in the comforts of emptiness, where the bleakness renders me numb of mind and absent of thought. Weak in body and unable to endure, I feel like a shell—just a bleeding soul within a lifeless body, left to drift in the world. My fading emotions dissolve, then free me. Vexation and dejection, along with the penitence for my humiliation and the burden of your disdain for me, have now been lifted.
People will humiliate you
People who don't want your best
People who are against you
People who don't know your worth
People who don't know who you are
People without humility.
People will humiliate you
People who wants applause
People who wants attention
People who wants power
Some for fun
Most for belittling
Others just because of their inexperience.
People will humiliate you
People who wanna be above you
So they can use you
Rule and ruin you
Bend and break you
Tame and shame you
Just to make you bow to them reigns forever.
We all saw it
We all heard it
We all read it
And smelled it.
Meanwhile Deedeepee is rotting in jail
For probably having committed a similar crime
Some do the crime and others don’t do the time
Similarly, some go to Heaven and others go to Hell.
The world smelled it
The world read it
The world heard it
And we saw it.
Some people are above the law
Some people are found to have no fault
Somewhere, God needs to tight the bolt
So all can hear the unwonted song of the crow.
No jail time, no fine and no probation
However, we all felt the humiliation
For God’s sake, an Honorable Christian like Jimmy
Would have never been in such a gnarly quandary.
We all smelled it
We all read it
We all heard it
And the world saw it.
No further explanation
We wonder if justice was done
No further condemnation
History is always fair, just and fun.
The world heart it
The world read it
The world saw it
And we smelled it.
Copyright © January 2025, Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved
Hébert Logerie is the author of several books of poetry.
Some wars are fought for honour,
and some for wealth and greed.
But the guilt that man does carry,
will make his heart bleed.
Some hearts are full of hatred,
and some just seek revenge,
but the ones blood related,
have vowed to avenge.
Some wars are fought for saints,
and some for a one and zeros.
if killed,
you are a martyr,
if not,
you are a hero.
Wars do bring destruction,
and shatter people’s lives.
In blood the price is paid,
For just a pack of lies.
She is a low life skank
Trailer trash honey
Dressing all up
And taking your money
But I would trip her if I saw her
And spill my coffee on her dress
And make her into disheveled mess
And yes darlin,
She done you wrong,
So I wrote this song....
Your wife should not napalm your life
To sleep with all your friends
That was no way to make amends
It makes her just a hussy
And a low class ****
And there is no makeup or outfit That can dress that up
You can’t pull that kind of high jinx
And expect any man,
to ever fall for you again
So she will be alone, just wait and see
And we can sing about it and someday laugh you will see
Love you Cowboy Poet, this was not your fault . (C) Artimus Susan Manley 10:55 AM 10/30/23
In my very own personal genesis
Of this allegorical fairy tales
anticipating and blissful,
visualization irrevocably an illusion
that a dream has come true.
Now that everyone has become
obsequious and self-assured
and nonchalant, The sand once
flowing through odyssey no
thrives with hesitation, cheap
shots are now the game reversed
upon my distinctiveness for
being me, myself and I.
Humiliation. Unfavorably conditions
overwhelms my emotional
state of being, am I being
paranoid as loved ones may
typically say? Did I hear what
was alleged. Humilated
I will remain amicable, seeking
consolation, solace that she gives.
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