Long Boozing Poems
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Natural talent Jimmy’s heir apparent melodious
Line & length strength swing seam harmonious
Taking over from dream team still parsimonious
But Olly could be a wally & yet seemed oblivious
Bit podgy not fit enough blips and cantankerous
Dodgy quips off the cuff guff just all a bit vacuous
Gruff flips energy dips pace slips hardly valorous
Indolent & insolent temperament shamed odious
Thrown under a bus for Gus.. named cadaverous
Splendiferous famed career appears posthumous
We were savaged biblical ravaged plague of OZ locus
No respite Ashes debacle fanfare did blare rancorous
Ridicule the losing & boozing puss oozing pustulous
Anger that was clanger not banger completely bogus
Riff raff suss boys were all faff & fuss and so do cuss
We see wheat from chaff all naff Bazball hocus pocus
No fight just sh*te is playing for England too onerous
To our health the blight of this plight was hazardous
No focus Baz & Ben must choose real men the onus
ECB let them & Key get off scot free is very generous
Flowering again after long winter our towering crocus
To bring vertiginous rascal back not really scandalous
Not still languorous skill metronomic can be imperious
To harvest the county bounty for Test best ironic bonus
The big plus that Ollie actually does look like one of us
Which is why we fell for this fall guy & are still amorous
Learn did earn return for which we yearn not ludicrous
Annoint the sky high release point our humorous chorus
Astronomic wicket laden maiden from Cricket’s Lazarus
Oh, how I remember my teenage years,
smoking pot and drinking beers
My friends and I built forts in the forest
We'd see who could skip a stone the farthest
on the lake, where we'd fish all day, till dark
Boozing up- keg bash parties; in the park
No wonder why I've had an urge for wine
Seems back then I've crossed the line
I've made sandcastles out of puddy mud
But they've been washed out from the cruddy flood
I should have known that my spiked blood
Come 'eth from wine- or too much, bud
Oh, how I remember my teenage years
As I sit and think with tired tears
I've gained control of my life by quitting booze
For so much did I have to lose
I gave up on beer, and I kicked the pot
And I thank the lord for the things I've got
No wonder why I've been misunderstood
My teenage years were not so good
ballad
I was a child creating kidstuff,
I lied and cheated just enough
to feel the guilt when all alone at home.
I copied homework from friend Sue
and passed it down the row to Lou.
We knew so little of Jerusalem.
When in the end, I turned a teen
I tried the drug and boozing scene.
With just a few bad trips, it all hit home.
I spent a long weekend in jail
I thought I’d died and gone to hell.
No peace in that place, no Jerusalem.
So glad was I when they said to me
let’s go to church as family.
It was belief that brought us to Shalom.
We’d fought like cats and dogs for aye
There had to be a better way.
True contentment began at Jerusalem.
Of course, there is a God above!
I know Him as the God of love.
He made the rules and guides us on to home.
He wrote the law, then paid the price
Son, Jesus came as sacrifice
so we could tunnel through to Jerusalem.
'Twas there I learned to place me last
to put God first; now when they ask,
“How come on Sundays you never stay at home?”
I am one who found that lost chord
no longer scared to serve my Lord -
I’ve found the peace that comes in Jerusalem.
I did not take Christ’s name in vain
I am a Christian with much to gain
and thus I greet you with a hearty Shalom.
I cannot keep Christ to myself
I cannot put Him on the shelf
for He is the Way to blest Jerusalem.
Jerusalem means place of peace;
Jerusalem needs no police.
we’ll see that when God comes to take us home.
Salvation means that we have learned
forgiveness never will be earned.
It's the light we find in Jerusalem.
written January 17, 2013
Urban Jungle Blues
I am a survivor of the urban jungle!
Where walking in fear was a daily struggle.
Angry, violent, hostile people on mass
transportation.
Cussing, spitting and fighting and plenty
of public intoxication.
Schools more like a vile Pay Per View Event!
Where poor people pay hundreds to
watch men brutalize one another.
In addition, a sad lack of decency, plus no
respect for the rule of law ?
How I prayed when children ages ten through
twelve ...wanted me to be their human firelog.
A group of six future killers throwing matches
at me?
As if I were not human, just a tree?
If adults want to perish there, it's
their choice.
But to keep the young ones there?
They die in idiotic gun free zones, on
basketball courts or studying at home.
It's totally immoral to keep a child in
dangerous city or home.
While Mom and Dad are snorting or
boozing with strangers.
Many will die this weekend and all
summer.
But, I tell you it's acceptable there,
As the coming of a not so happy
and bright summer.
God help the children who will soon
be roaming the streets.
Young, beautiful..only to find with
their backs a bullet may meet.
* Panagiota wanted her daughter
alive. I saw the writing on the wall,
and moved to a beautiful city which
is now a public disgrace.
I saw that coming in 1978 and will
never get near that one again.
One of the earth's hell holes!
5/7/2019
11:35pm PST
8/16/17
Cruising
And moving
Except when snoozing
Whether win, draw or losing
Focused on improving
On ground level or atop the roofing
Regardless if it may be confusing
Got to keep pursuing
And musing
Even if I continue boozing
Not going to talk about god or the devil
Trying to write something special
Aiming for a higher level
And to always be successful
No time to settle
Foot on the pedal
Got to work on credentials
And show my true potential
Working around pebbles, nettles
Flower petals and metals
Avoiding being captive
Staying away from what I consider unattractive
In a place so massive
Being active
Instead of passive
Woman, woman that I loved uncommonly
Several springs ago
When the weather was good and callow
When the wind whistled swiftly, low and slow
Oh! Woman, you were young, strong and sparkling
Darling, now you're deceased
Lying down and sleeping comatose on your back
Calm and motionless like the water
Of the paralyzed pond, staring at the sky
Eyes hermetically and conveniently closed
Where everything seems supernatural and artificial
I wonder and ponder where I'm diving
If it's an illusion, a nightmare or a dream
I don't feel good: I'm unbalanced and demented
I’m disappearing into the shadows
Where everything is dark and gloomy
Like my blood. I feel that my everything
Is gone and swept away by sadness
I'm drowning in a mercurial lake of inebriety
My God! Yes, I’m in pain indeed
I’ve lost the most beautiful mermaid.
Woman, woman, you were genial and lovely
The voluptuous gal that I loved so much
Do you remember? I frittered a lot of time
Revering you. I found myself on the slippery slope
I, too, will die like you
Woman, woman, heavy and ghastly is the cross
Where I am exposed today
The cold freezes me and the sun bakes me
I'm sad and devastated like wilted flowers
And you, apoplectic, silent and enshrined
I am suffering, weeping and dying too
I don't want to stay here anymore
My heart is weary, sorrowful and besieged
I am crying and suffering. My strength has left me
I am drowning in pain in the lake of boozing
I'm perishing too. I don't want to live anymore.
Woman, woman that I loved so much
We are no longer in springtime
But almost at the infancy of autumn
The bells are ringing and the children are banging
There is no rainbow in the sky
I am alone, in tears and very sorry
In the labyrinth of the necropolis
May the earth be infinitely light to you!
P.S. Translation of ‘Ode À Yseult’ by Hébert Logerie.
Copyright © September 2021, Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved.
Hébert Logerie is the author of several collections of poems.
6/17/17
I'm just cooling
And musing
Below the flooring and above the roofing
Still manuevering and moving
Working hard towards improving
Live a life of your choosing
Focused on what I'm doing
Got to get it, can't continue snoozing
While there is and isn't booming
Whether win draw or losing
Before and after what is ensuing
Regardless of if it may be confusing
Quickly fuming
Often stooping
To such a low level, then snooping
People feuding
And dueling
Over petty things, continually adding fueling
To the fire, while ridiculing
Among objects that may or may not be protruding
Near and far from lifeforms and items by themselves or in a tight-knit grouping
At a rapid pace, spewing
It's all bad when it comes to polluting
Always stirring up the pot, and tooting
Your own horn, while assuming
Because you want to see another's undoing
Shame on those that continue spoofing
And fooling
As well as those that did or are planning a mass shooting
There's just no excusing
Such horrendous actions, regardless of it involved drug abusing
And heavy duty boozing
Many are the 'characters' I met while serving my nation.
Seems there's always one who stands out in every organization!
In Bermuda (where I fought the Korean War) was such a cuss.
He was my bunkmate and he went by the name of Gus!
Gus was the old man of the outfit, a staff sergeant as I recall.
He'd been up and down the ranks and boozing caused his fall!
Never to be promoted beyond 'staff'', he was happy with his lot.
Gus floated on cloud nine as long as he had his daily tot!
Near payday, funds depleted, out of booze, in a nervous funk,
He'd surreptitiously place this beseechng note upon my bunk:
"My boy, may I propose for your benevolent consideration,
A temporary loan for relief from my dire financial situation?"
Now, how could I deny his plea phrased in such flowing verse!
Besides, on payday, he'd promptly seek me out to reimburse!
On paydays, Gus and his pals were wont to go on a spree!
He'd relieve his bloated bladder nigh any convenient tree,
Proclaming, "Wherever you may be let your water flow free!"
(For some reason the local constables happened to disagree!)
Gus was a good man and I enjoyed our comradely association,
Despite his innate proclivity for intemperate intoxication!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
Politicians Wanted
must be sly
able to lie.
Naturist's Ball
nothing to wear
just come bare.
Rest In Peace
quick sudden death
grim reaper met.
One To many
all night boozing
all day snoozing.
Undocked
puppies For Sale
complete with tail.
Nigerian Lottery
notification of win
for recycle bin.
Downpour
saturated old Bella
forgot her umbrella.
Hard Landing
Jim's bad luck
cord was stuck.
In A Drift
Stuck in snow
Waiting for tow
Go Large
Extra French fries
Big fat thighs
Written 19th September 2018
How many grave sites should be prepared for me?
Just one. For Robert Johnson, there were three,
all in the Mississippi Delta: Morgan City, Quito,
and (near) Greenwood. Which is right? Do we KNOW?
Those who have taken the time to do research
believe Little Zion Missionary Baptist Church
near Greenwood is most likely. At age 27, in 1938,
he died near that town--so young, with talent so great.
In the early 1900’s, this youngster’s genius was unfurled.
As blues singer, guitarist, and lyricist, he gifted the world
with recordings exhibiting style that has been admired
widely and emulated by popular performers who aspired
to greater fame. They achieved the kudos they desired.
Muddy Waters, Bob Dylan, and Chuck Berry are among those
influenced by his style. Every admirer who knows
the legend that ambition drove Johnson to sell his soul
to the Devil for greater talent would surely say his goal
was reached without Old Scratch playing a role.
What caused the death of the “Cross Road Blues”
and “Sweet Home Chicago” performer? There are clues
centering around his unbridled boozing and womanizing.
Did a jealous husband poison his whiskey upon realizing
a flirtation or worse, just as Johnson's star was rising?
Or did he die of syphilis? These stories floated around,
and others. Thirty years later, a death certificate was found,
stating no cause of death. Some facts, we may never know.
It IS known that this musical master's climb to fame was slow.
It's nothing new that, after death, renown may grow.
Johnson's posthumous claim to fame is no big mystery.
Beginning in the nineteen sixties, the world would see
a surge of interest in his music. To Eric Clapton, he seems
"The most important blues singer that ever lived." Teams
of researchers have tried to capture his life and dreams.
King of the Delta Blues Singers, a collection of his best,
was produced by Columbia in 1961. Writers faced a test:
dealing with conflicts and gaps in accounts while collecting
information for biographies and films. While "connecting
the dots," they learned that sources require dissecting.
Death, no respecter of talent or youth, is bold,
stalking and striking down rich or poor, young or old.
Mysteries of life and death often remain unsolved,
though diligent research may be involved.