Every Irishman is a liar
My mother was a McCormick
I say nothing
Every Pollock is an imbecile
My father’s family was from Poland
I keep quiet
Every successful woman slept her way to the top
I am biting my lip so hard now it is bleeding
I finally have to leave
but not without changing my position
This used to be my hero
Now to me he is a zero
A Pope
Brings forth hope
But a kaiser
Spews hate and horror
A Pope
Spreads peace
In the north, south, west and east
But a prideful mope like a squalid dope
Spits horrors and terrors
And starts fights and wars
A peaceful person de-escalates
But a belligerent bully booms, inflates
And explodes like a lost missile
Which acts like a cussed imbecile
A real leader
Never follows an oppressor
Yet a follower is a master loser
Who lies about everything
Even when the sun is shining
A Pope
Offers love and hope
But a loser displays no compassion
No sympathy and no comprehension.
Copyright © April 2016 Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved.
Hébert Logerie is the author of several poetry collections.
spray-painted
flowers
wither unnaturally
like a butterfly
landing
on an imbecile
Always betrayal
Confused dishearted
Each fruitful goal
Have imbecile jabber knowledge
Loving miscreant
Never opulent
Progressive quarrels
Retaliate silly
Too unhappy
Vyingly wanders
Sometimes the mastermind
Sometimes the butcher
Alcohol.
Sometimes the genius
Sometimes the imbecile
Alcohol.
Sometimes the blanket
Sometimes the suffocation
Alcohol.
Sometimes the spark
Sometimes the wildfire
Alcohol.
Sometimes the dibber
Sometimes the uprooter
Alcohol.
Sometimes the jamboree
Sometimes the funeral
Alcohol.
It was never the first
Never the warmth.
It was the last
And the end was explosive.
The notion of performance
Isn't the trait of nature
The notion of performance
Doesn't belong to nature
What differs machine and science
We will find out with no razor
The notion of performance
Isn't the trait of nature
Logic and sense reforming
We do understand the danger
The sharp edge with minimal factors
Encompass does not complexities
Black or the white your judgement
Versus makes truth your unethical
What for do I need your zeroes
What for do I need the ones
Computer and I play Osiris
Repair your imbecile stance
Is their job MY computer
Shall we to cook the cook
Removing associations
Will we be using spook
Bark my friend with tail at cars
They don't care about us
Veterinary cloud choose you
Or adopt the pet
Drink water from the bottle
I will produce the set
Milk fat
The notion of performance
Isn't the trait of nature
The notion of performance
Doesn't belong to nature
What differs machine and science
We will find out with no razor
The notion of performance
Isn't the trait of nature
Logic and sense reforming
We do understand the danger
The sharp edge with minimal factors
Encompass does not complexities
Black or the white your judgement
Versus makes truth your unethical
What for do I need your zeroes
What for do I need the ones
Computer and I play Osiris
Repair your imbecile stance
Is their job MY computer
Shall we to cook the cook
Removing associations
Will we be using spook
Bark my friend with tail at cars
They don't care about us
Veterinary cloud choose you
Or adopt the pet
Drink water from the bottle
I will produce the set
Milk fat
let me be the danger you carry around
darling place your gun on my head
pull its trigger when it feels too much
even if i'm hanging by the thread
I'm bleeding while lying on the ground
my imbecile lover's sword in my chest
let go of my hand and don't be my savior
save yourself before heaven falls upon us
How could you do me this way?
I thought you said you liked me..
Ever since the first glance my heart felt relief
I guess I was fooled, what an imbecile
I felt it coming? Why so soon? I wasn’t enough?
WHY WONT YOU SPEAK? YOU KNOW WHO I AM..
Sigh, trapped in my mind. Everything replays.
I think about you and hope you come up to speak
My heart wants it but my mind knows
Why did you leave me.. you gave me up
Named Person you hurt my heart. You knew it was pure
You may read this very poem and know who you are
I tried my best to keep you in grasp. All in the end..
“I’m sorry” with verbal explanation would free me
As long as I see your face, everything turns to a blur
Named Person what didn’t I have that made you leave?
I tried being beautiful for you everyday. Even if I made
a mockery of myself. Ah, you don’t see that cause I’m supposed to be “happy”. fuxking foolery
My heart is scared.. you killed me boy
Even in the mist of all my feelings
I still love you , I’m sorry for myself and hate it
Named Person..
Have you looked at the purple house down by the bay?
It is the one with green shutters, a shabby gray.
A terrific value, says that realtor, Mrs. Dray.
She would know and she always has her say.
Okay, then, here’s another idea said May.
Why don’t you buy a home over in Bray?
It’s a cheaper town, I hear people say.
It is a heck of a value, I was told yesterday.
You need a loan? I wish there was some way.
But all of my money is maxed out, said Lay.
Wish I did not have to go, but I cannot stay
For some imbecile is now towing my car away
To be seemingly individually targeted
By all the wrath and perverseness
In this world
Personified by a heartless imbecile
I know
I know
It’s not okay
But, I plead with you
Beseech you, implore you
To allow
My arms and heart
And dozens of familiar more
And a plethora of friends yet to meet
To envelop you in a celestial hug
And gently press
The hope, virtue, and integrity
Still in this world
Through your understandably hardened skin
And into your bloodstream
To allow you to feel
The integrity and veracity of my words
When I whisper
It’s okay
It’s going to be okay
Her vined plants strangled her in her sleep
We knew it might happen, she sleeps so deep
Only ninety-nine, one of the cousins said.
We felt bad too that our young grandma was dead.
Ninety-nine is not that young said the doc.
To say it was the plants is kind of a crock.
Women at age ninety-nine often die in their sleep.
We stopped talking to this imbecile, he was a creep.
extravagant disgust
manifested by evil...outrageous
imbecile sacrilegious,
to torture the color,
to vilify nature,
to demonize the human...
With magnificent ramblas
but spirits so narrow, it
seems exponential, but
it's just spiritual retardation...
the pomp of wickedness,
rips in greatness
which should already be consolidated
after so long to evolve...
What a shame ! so much involution!
A show supposed to be classic
But watchers' cheap applause did seek
The actors, no exception, sick:
Long the rude point in mind shall stick...
Why choose the slobbering walker
And mimic the labored talker:
On your clothes dripping saliva
As well taught by Trainer Silver
Before a thousand eyes go limp
While a camera films: an imp;
Oh! I forgot: it's about cash
You have a chance to in banks stash;
Yet, in US this would be punished,
All of you by some guns finished!
Lament the clumsy stumble bum who bungles his debut
By mumbling his monologue and missing every cue.
He wanders freely off his mark and often flubs his lines.
His timing’s unpredictable. His rhythm bumps and grinds.
He hams it up like Barrymore and eats the scenery whole.
His critics shame him endlessly, then eulogize his soul.
But though the humbled imbecile stands slack-jawed center stage,
He’s chosen best supporting actor this post-modern age.
His talents prove sufficient in the arts of song and dance
To stand him for election and provide him with a chance.
So he shall be the candidate his party comes to choose.
No matter how the voting goes, he knows he just can't lose.
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