LIES ON EVERYTHING
911 LYING KING
LYING IS HIS THING
It's always the same liar,
who spoils the fun with boos;
he wants to break the rules;
who thinks that's fair?
Do you have any friends
who inspire trust,
who share the cost
of painful tragedies?
Do they fool you with silly grins?
Have you fallen victim to their tricks?
No, no, there's no fondness
as that of mother and son;
disappointment brings you down!
No, no, it's always the same liar
who spoils the fun with boos
and wants to set the rules:
who thinks that's fair?
You can judge
and criticize.
Never, never ask me if I agree,
I have put it all out there;
for anyone who will care;
hang me on a tree for spite
and make me suffer in agony.
Nothing will change
for the one feeling the rage.
Always, always help someone
who has fallen into the dark abyss,
saving even one from death is bliss,
keep that friend closer
than a teddy bear;
he won't ever be alone,
his joy he'll share.
You can judge
and criticize.
for a
the clock tells its own story
hands drifting where they shouldn’t go
hours bending under its whim
time learns to wander
WAS VANDALS FOR SURE
I DO NOT LIE I AM PURE
TRUMP SOUNDS SO COCKSURE
PM MELONI
TRUMP A PHONEY BALONEY
HE LIED ABOUT ME
liar
after we ended
you said it gently —
like kindness could soften blame
it wasn’t working
we changed
it’s nobody’s fault
but somehow
the silence kept pointing at me
i replay every moment now
like evidence in a trial
my words too sharp
my fears too loud
my love too much
maybe i asked for reassurance
one too many times
maybe i held on
when you were already leaving
you said you tried
and i believed you
so i learned to nod
and carry the ending
like something i broke
i told everyone
it was my fault
because blaming myself
hurt less than admitting
you stopped loving me
but late at night
when honesty slips in
through cracks i can’t close
i wonder
if i’m the liar
for saying i ruined us
or if you were
for letting me believe
I did
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
Sarah had my heart
She held it like a bird between her hands and crushed it,
Crushed it until the sap ran out
...I deserved this, for ignoring my suspicions
For so long,
But still my heart beats
And still it loves
And my heart flew away
When she was not looking
All broken bones, that bird flew away
And it will draw the bones into place
And set them together
That they may knit,
And I will look in future
For the still, small lies
That hide behind kisses
And not get caught
In the nets
Of a liar
Again
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.
He formulated a delicate scheme,
So that he could obtain vital funds
From gullible, if friendly virtual persons
And spend his life in idle, useless pastimes.
In his egregious vanity, he concocted stories.
Thus, he would meditate on pulling strings
Of his listeners' consciences.
Insane in his delirium, he would meditate
His famous tales read newspapers for inspiration,
Send messages to all he judged to be ripe
For a monetary gift to help assuage his need:
Alas, not many took the bait.
Occasionally, someone would send
A miserable donation. Until he found
His haven in an old kindly woman who felt pity
And send him a thousand-dollar gift.
Profound words of thanks ensued.
He was courteous hoping to get more,
Inventing a lack of funds to rent his home.
FICTION?
There was a woman Monique
Known to sale unique antique
Until one day
Paint wore away
Scratch a liar find a thief
I've heard many talk about honesty,
As though it is the best quality.
I know I hoped to be truthful,
But deep inside I acknowledge I was only brutal.
I've told them the horrible things many have done,
As a hypocrite, one could assume I held an empty gun.
I could pull the trigger,
But the bullet wouldn't speed past,
The only real difference would be the expressions so vast.
This would make me a liar,
but isn't that what the performance arts are?
the production is based on lies, but it seems as though it is the truth from afar.
Would being a liar truly be a sin?
If being truthful is what makes others hurt within.
One could consider every lie white,
For it may be the wrong words,
but compared to the honest, a liars' intentions are right.
The bombs rain down Iran do pound
Because of renowned nuclear mound
We know no warheads will be found
Israel America forever together bound
Self crowned as another nation downed
Who are the terrorists it does confound
Veracity & truths are ruthlessly drowned
Audacity pretending the reason is sound
Mendacity as we see treason all around
Pugnacity and military rapacity abound
Hound everyone who's been browned
Might is always right so tightly wound
Astound taking moral higher ground
(Epigram For A Corrupt Prosecutor)
Scales of justice swing so slowly
for your sin,
Snatching silver secrets safely sheltered
skin.
We see your shadow stretch a shady stair,
And mock the ''justice'' sleeping soundly
there.
My phone said,'' Pay your screen time's high!''
I said '' Dear Soso,prophets lie''
It buzzed again,''Repent,recharge!''
I blamed WI-FI,life at large.
It knows my heart,my cravings,my schemes,
My father's father, my memes.
I'd do anything to save my soul,
But how scroll to toward self-control?
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