Envision, if you will, a star-drenched night,
a hammock on the deck and a glass of wine.
Embrace the soothing image, clutch it tight
and know your fondest wishes mirror mine.
Serenity entwines with solitude,
creating in the blend, tranquility.
A masterpiece for two, an interlude,
a captured silence meant for you and me.
Beneath this still-unsullied picture,
framed by its celestial beauty, look at me
and see an artist's face, unmasked, untamed,
evolve before your eyes, to something free—
So, how could I, unfettered, now refuse,
my liberation by the perfect muse?
_Scene: After the fight_
His snore filled the room now,
Like air inside a balloon.
Thoughts run like sprinters in her mind.
Steady. Distant. A retreat.
Sonia stood. Always standing.
Her eyes locked on the door.
Not wood. Not paint.
An exit.
The course was set,
Like the stubborn August breeze.
Purpose sharpened in her chest.
The bulb still buzzed.
The night was almost over.
For two who once joked they were lovers.
She breathed. She was ready.
Although far from the sea
I can feel its tides, even hear its waves
Pulsing deep within me
And take solace in the fact
Such relentless comings and goings,
Swell and retreat in perfect rhythm.
If I lived on the beach
My mind would align effortlessly
And I’d weather cycles
Of change and stasis
Better than I seem to do
With only the hint of the sea within.
There is always something to learn
And sometimes that can be as simple as
Letting it all go
To simply settle
Where and how it does
Without personal choice or direction.
Even though I am a long way from the sea
Its tides pull within me
And without me;
The former being a constant reminder of change
And the latter a reminder how simple
Liberation from cyclic existence actually is.
(4/30/26)
ELAN OF LIBERATION
prescriptive
pontification
resemble
transitional
identification
options
consolation
of
enlightened
identifications
harmonise
figural
situations
&motivate
impetuous
elements
conniving
authenticity
cherished
with
presentable
dinity
8
Your shadow lingers,
following me everywhere.
When my lips speak
the words were once yours,
I wonder
why do I still carry
what is already gone?
In the place you once lived,
my heart gathers dust,
stitched with quiet spiderwebs.
Each attempt to erase you
smears your memory deeper.
Like a horcrux,
your absence survives in me
to destroy it
feels like destroying myself,
I despise you for that.
And yet,
fragments of what we were
still pulse beneath my skin,
quickening my heart
at every remembrance.
To never repeat,
I must remember.
After a love undone,
you become a distant star
fixed in my night sky.
Let the pain stay,
like an uninvited guest.
It will leave
when it learns
it is no longer feared.
Only then will
a true liberation arrive.
Where there is injustice
There is corruption
Where there is justice
There is liberation.
Where there are rights
There is freedom
Where there are fights
There is martyrdom.
Where there are lies
There are thefts
Where there are cries
There are deaths.
Where there are smiles
There is happiness
Where there are styles
There is progress.
Where there is peace
There is love
Where there are feasts
There are doves above.
Copyright © January 2019, Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved
Hébert Logerie is the author of several books of poetry.
Time has stop.
The waves lap at the feet of us.
The water is red,
Some black as us skin.
In front of us… is kin,
Or we thought was.
Their skin is white,
Like angel,
One that don’t reach you with hands,
But whip to skin.
While some decide to stand beside us,
We not accept them.
Not because they bad,
Because others were.
They think we dumb,
They do not know we
Outside of Hell.
And while it hail at sea
We sing our song.
“Jua ni mpangilio katika nchi za Magharibi;
Malaika wakinitazama, Bwana wangu.
Lala mtoto wangu, pumzika;
Malaika wakinitazama.”
They hit,
Yell,
Saying down.
We not dog.
We brother,
All blood red.
So we scream the song,
Loud for all,
Until the day we free.
Time has begun.
It’s 2025,
Where even clouds have eyes.
We’re shot down
By our fellow brethren.
We put down those blacker than us,
Mock those lighter.
We’ve conformed to the white man’s religion,
And see them as idols.
Our song is gone,
Our soul faded.
We are not all bad,
But we’ve become jaded.
Why is February pronounced as if the r is silent?
I understand its plight
Screaming wanting to be heard
Part of the foundation
Yet consistently forgotten
It is not the r’s fault
Those in power demanded it’s silence
The sound when heard feels
Uncomfortable
Alien
Though if removed entirely
The same sensation returns
To be seen but not heard
To be foundational but never
Understood
Little r know this
Your purpose is in your
Uniqueness
Own it
Be proud of your place in this world
Nothing is ever by chance
Along doth death walk with life,
Along doth sharpen its knife,
Going far all along the way,
Together life cycles they slay.
_____________________
Sanskrit Translation | 20.01.2026 | death, journey, life, liberation, quatrain
Note: Some quatrains called shlokas in Sanskrit are known as Subhaashhitams, words well-said. This one from Ramayana on life, death, and liberation is thought provoking. It says, death takes its journey all along with life. It gets born and reborn along with life. And during lifetime, together do they work for liberation beyond life and death. The transliteration follows.
saha eva mrtyuh vrajati,
saha mrtyuh nisheedati |
gatvaa su-dirgham adhvanam,
saha mrtyuh nivartate || Ramayana-Valmiki ||
Humans are said to be social beasts,
A concept blended in Greece.
It seeps into the crumpled eyes,
Flowing down heavily through the body.
A solo artist, scattering unique wildness,
Is like a gentle breeze.
(“Something From Nothing”, 2024, original encaustic)
Moksha, liberation, freedom, peace
Fly through our imaginations
As ideals, inspiring, yet beyond
The grasp of mere mortals.
Yet being beyond
Is no reason to dismiss as unreal
It is in fact what defines and determines
The liberation.
Our lives are ruled by our body-minds
Habits and hormones, hungers and healings
This is what defines us, but God
Is not our body or our mind.
Thank God, It is beyond these tangibles
Controllable and manipulatable
By forces as capricious as a wild wind
Whipping up the ashes to leave no trace.
And what remains when everything
Has been removed and all is cleansed?
The freshness of a new dawn
Bright, clear, pure, with no need to even name.
(12/3/25)
Sitting down, face set like a flint, I was afraid to make God frown, a beam of light pierced my crown...
Flipped my world upside down...
Claimed to be satan but it wasn't a demon of any renown.
Lunged toward me with a sword, sharp edged, gleams like gold, "I just want to break your mold", she said, she etched, those words in my memory,
I called it bold.
I had no choice, I drew my blade, I pray that God will be my aid. Clash! And I saw a flash, it was not a nightmare. Bash! My lungs were not robbed of air. Truth rang with every slash, "is it you I have to thrash?"
I was cornered then alas. I closed my lids, I gave her the pass. Kill me now, let my soul transpass.
Her silence echoes like thunder, as she buried her sword in my chest. End me, now put me to rest.
But the heavens did not claim my heart that night, clattering of chains that once bound me, held me, ever so tight, is what they got, from me that night.
My delight...
(The Great Toad, 2025, “Ascending Triptych, aka Shape Shifter” and “Anagogical Moments Merit Badge” 2011, original oils)
Like from a dream
Within a dream, within a dream…
Endlessly looping spirals
Finally loosened and released
Finally breaking the surface,
The arc of a diver
Freed of all sense of perpetual drowning
Able to breathe it all in
Every single moment
Every single morsel of experience
Sharp, alert, fresh and new
Wide eyed at last,
At the beginning.
(11/26/25)
I took a walk around the sphere
Just to break them spells
I spoke with mother nature
Then she gave me her words
Words of blessings
Saying; as you want it do it and so be it.
I took a flight to the sky
So I'll be so fly
I spoke with the father sun
Then he gave me his words
Words of inspiration
Saying; shine unapologetically.
Then I took a walk within
Just to speak with me
So I can pick up my spirit from within
The he in me said;
When you conquer your mind
You've opened the world of possibilities
Make sure you put into use your abilities
With your capability you'll reign in the world of possibilities.
Is it the good ole days
Or the good ole boys?
How far in history do you want to go back
When my value is determined by the color black?
Now I was told that this was a thing,
To give us another name—
Mislabeling.
Who am I?
Identify!
Or will you tell me that ***** lie?
That man with brown skin—
Original Indian.
You pass me the Bible,
You invented the sins.
In the beginning it was spring,
Nature was blooming,
Yet we get another cold fairytale of Christmas—
The story of how we came on the boat Jesus (Hey-soos).
No “J” in the letters of the Hebrews...
Sleuth.
© Sheltial Green
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