A kibitzy klepto keeked like a kakapo at a kerfy knotholey kist that kept knickknacks made from kidskin and krimmer in it. His knockoff kiths were knackered of the kookie knucklehead's kleptomaniacism- kudos to them!
T:ime is a dreadful thing,
I:t hurts without mercy,but also heals,
M:imicry it plays,
E:ndless it is,
T:ime,
A: tank of scenarios,
N:estled in a cocoon of mystery,
K:leptomaniac it is,but also gives.
This is absolutely out of this universe
That a consummate kleptomaniac thinks
That he has the right to steal any ranks
Any rings, any votes, anybody in the hearse
This is scurrilously crazy to try steal
To commit murder on 5th. Ave. at midday
What kind of world is that? Doomsday
Must be around the corner, at the heal
Of the hills. A consummate kleptomaniac
Thinks that he can get away with murder
Any year, any month, any day, and any hour
Doesn't he think that God is constantly watching?
God is ubiquitous like the loitering air in the streets
God is listening carefully and writing the minutes
There's a time for the geese, a time for anything
There's a time for the pathological liar to get caught
Like a greedy whale, to be prosecuted after being cut
Profoundly by the sharp Shrapnel shell under the fence
A consummate kleptomaniac is bad news. His defense
Is no longer appropriate or strong. He is going under
Because nobody is above the law. Nobody can alter
God's final gavel. God is the sole Supreme at the altar.
Copyright © November 2020, Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved
Hébert Logerie is the author of several books of poetry.
there was a kaleidoscopic key
nocturnal nature smothered spree
moaning metal glazed with scarred incisors
dripping dark dangles, felon fright's fervor
meagre mystery bewitched it:
callous connections drooled, fostered fills
hoisted head, punctured padlock was
tampered tuning heaves nosy gnaw
a book is birthed by a turn
leering la-de-da lodge, lusty lurch
another turn trashed book, pages wept:
crushed confetti, cremating clubbed crest
kleptomaniac key brings the book
rips pulpy pages, plays the crook.
'20:05:22:18:16
Note: of kleptomaniac key.
first time that brought the
bliss,
must’ve been when with her/his
best friend, in some mall in the
middle of ****ing
nowhere---
little things when s/he was young &
was sick of asking for money
from the parental figures,
sick of seeing others with things
that s/he couldn’t have,
sick of going to school &
knowing that because of the world
s/he lived in,
that this would be the way it would
always be---
stuffing her pockets with
nothings, but each little successfully
stolen thing,
brought a new sense of strength,
a way to get away
by getting away with it &
what society deems a
“criminal” was born---
funny how the “sickness”
becomes a “criminal act,”
once material possessions are
included in the whole
mind****---
soon, s/he needed more &
was getting better,
going into changing rooms with
one outfit & coming out with
a different pair of shorts, a different
shirt &
walking right out into the sunset---
took it smart, swore to him/herself
that s/he’d not take anything that
s/he wouldn’t have thought about buying,
leaving the taking to the rush &
the rush to the escape &
with the escape came power &
with power came perfection.
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