Long Culpable Poems
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(this pastiche promulgated many moons ago from those screaming bloody thirsty headlines from the Italian court for justice sans the brutal homicide attributed to this then American college student and her ex-boyfriend). My gut reaction that zero apr guilt linkedin with lovely looking lass, who may very well bear the burden of culpable guilt for the rest of (what this totally tubular unknown guy no war) a fulfilling life.
with the assiduous vigor of a cadre of volunteers
brought sought after fruition of freedom
per the release of imprisoned young (twenty something) American lass
whose former life sentenced commuted to egress from an Italian jail
to her home within Seattle, Washington
whereby family, friends and strangers who fought for her liberation
breathed one palpable surprising sigh of euphoric relief
when the plane who boarded landed safely on the tarmac of SEATAC
aswarm with frenzied television camera crews
scrambled to get the initial scoop and what promises
to land this once anonymous cell bait
an undisclosed amount of lucre
which many on the other side of the pond
find mind boggling if not downright objectionable
moreso livid with rage
against the Machiavellian machine
on account of supposed culpability in tandem with her then boy friend
accused (under the guise of guilty fiat)
sans homicide of college roommate
now sought after garnering this fawning female
(salaciously tagged by Perugian court with the sobriquet “she wolf”
now faces a future replete with riches aplenty
allowing gravity of ugly epithet plus stigma from accusation of murder
to serve as basis for what will no doubt be a best seller
not to mention made for the silver screen blockbuster
with subsequent royal carpet treatment
to compensate for guilty judgment decreed
without tangible evidence nor fair trial to boot!
To my StraightWhiteMale
right-wing
left-brain
monoculturally dominating brothers,
and your antifeminist glamorous
amorous womanly allies,
You have not yet heard me,
if you only hear my resistance,
sharing my non-culpable experience
with non-choice of gender attraction
and gender identity.
It's not only that my ***** gender attractions
are not my fault,
because not my choice;
but also my gender identity
and sensory-neural attachments, as also true of yours,
are my most sacredly intimate gift.
CoArising identity/individuation
and CoGravitating attraction,
like awareness and contrast
and ego/eco-consciousness,
are not just heavy social responsibilities,
but also enlightened
and empowering opportunities.
We're not legitimately known by who
or what
we hate and hurt;
But we can be felt
and known
and even divinely redeemed by who
and what
we love and heal.
We may have no more choice
about who
and what
and when
and where
and why
and how we love,
than choice to respond with awe and wonder,
or boredom and disdain,
to Earth's natural enspiriting Beauty
Of dawn
and dusk,
spring
and autumn,
ocean
and mountain,
before
and after,
inside felt
and outside recognized,
spiritual
and natural
restorative reconnections
Which feel both Healthy
and True,
of the deepest
and highest
and yet safest resilient
and resonantly robust multicolored wealth
of curiously unchosen
unfaulted gifting grace,
healthy healing pace
absence of monotheistic
overpowering disgrace.
Imagine owning a gun
and you are doing it for fun
only for it to bring you harm
you become its casualty
or end up serving a penalty
while it becomes your reality
Destruction is a language they speak
fed on bullets that they later spit
thirsty for blood that they spill
Bringing life to a sudden end
while everyone apportions blame
for many, life doesn’t remain the same
While some use guns to settle scores
they don’t know how much blood flows
they will not admit their flaws
Robbing many of both property and life
they have to take cover in order to survive
giving thanks if they come out alive
prompting security and the alarms
to the response of sheriffs on alert
keeping many awake all night
Intervention comes with caution
to tread with precaution
though it’s a temporary solution
The law on gun use,
Enforced on those culpable for abuse
as long as evidence is adduced
With no limits to jurisdiction
they should all earn a conviction
if they are no false accusations
That should serve as a deterrent
making sure it is not recurrent
ridding society of abhorrence
To create a safe place for all
freedom to associate for all
we live once after all
Let’s engage in wars of words,
although they pierce the heart,
they cause no physical hurt,
Use pen and paper to fight
with no intent to cause loss of life
better yet, be keyboard lovers seeking for the limelight,
It gives everyone an opportunity to be heard
without making other people’s lives hard,
Finding answers to questions with a click of buttons
rather than pulling triggers and engaging in fierce battles
Dated:2/2/2013
Black velvet sky festoons solemnly my brooding words,
Exudes gloom from my mindly nib, drowned in woes two thirds.
Sharp shrillness of many of my lingering thought,
Shatter silence of stillness that dusk had on to me brought.
Grief laden clouds quiver with culpable guilt,
Blue starry skies shiver around the moon’s curves laden with forlorn silt.
Tonight I write about my past in melancholy laced lines,
About my ceaseless love for her and her conditional love for me at times….
Solitary nights like the one tonight,
Has stored within itself, deep memories like flashing lights.
Nostalgia sewn within its brimming self,
Of holding her in my arms, my warm embrace her body engulfs.
Her conditional love for me and my ceaseless love for her at all times,
Lure the emotions out tonight, to write the melancholy stewed lines.
As I sit here all senses alive to listen to the great black night,
Sans her beside me, tears trickle down filling the beady grass beds and dull my sight.
The shattered silence of the night all dark,
Resonates in my head no more, but my heart leaves a deep bruised scar and a mark.
A quaint sound of lament I faintly hear,
From a distance it seems like an echo of my bleeding heart all unclear.
My soul curses me as never before,
As its mate it has lost and has only me to deplore….
Places I go glare at my searching eyes with fervor,
Look out for her as though I wish to go to her.
And my heart too joins the fray,
And both of them conspire for me to seek her any which way.
But now as I no longer love her,
That’s a truth that my mind and my heart must concur.
As I sit and speak to myself, the dew drips on to the leaves,
Tell tales in the silence as the wind touching my voice as it grieves.
like my kisses of before, she is now another’s,
Her dreamy eyes, her warm weatish body, her heart, her joyous smile,
Her sweet body scent, her warm breath that spreads a mile
Are now not for me but for another…………….
I love her no more but maybe I yearn for her love,
But unknown to myself I seek her love somehow!!!
Filled with nostalgic emotions of our sweet oneness
I can barely raise my eyebrows to see us together in my mind’s eye.
I hope this is the last dart cupid has shot at me,
And this is the last verse I pen for her to see
In the silent passage, toward the night, where stars descend,
Time slips through fingers, like a thread of sand, gliding, blending,
I've sought your gaze in the Big Dipper, during my tactical wanders,
You are the light born from the purest thought, queen amongst the wonders.
I wanted to harvest for you, the cold astral from deep blue sky,
But the Polaris is too high, erasing any hope that might fly.
Hidden in dreams, I wait for the night to bring you into my pale scope,
To be your knight, in this shadow play, and you, the eternal sound of hope.
I have nothing but words to offer, my modest offering,
But they are filled with a yearning, a yearning that can't stop longing,
You feel me, I feel you, through valleys and over hills of oblivion,
My sublime outcry, after your cold image, is lost in the ocean.
My ceiling, painted with stars and whispering comets,
Seems to weep, wanting to reveal that my pain is but opinion,
And that in the end, you were sent to me, through the realm of fear,
A saintly face, my light from the dark, a terrestrial luck so dear.
I gather fragments of heart and lay them down in magical verse,
As you rise regal in the night, a whole world in the universe,
Or when your eyes conceal secrets in a thin veil of mist,
And just your presence, my love, in this way, makes me culpable, kissed.
Under your gaze, my poetry quivers and, timid, it bows,
No longer wanting to be just words, just a peaceful envoy,
And it whispers on a trembling note that gently unwinds,
That I love you, the queen of my pallid dream, by your side as your knight.
I am the warrior of the night, lost among echoes and seasons,
Humming a dark melody that hides in chasms for reasons.
But even when you reject my word and tender verse,
You are my fate, and in poems or in reality, you are my universe.
I try to be a model citizen and live an upright life,
Though on occasion I've been accused of killin' time!
I've always considered it a harmless and victimless crime,
But I must admit my spells of dolce far niente have been so rife!
I suppose some folks consider killin' time an abominable crime.
Well, if that is so I reckon I'm as culpable as anyone around!
Should I face a judge and jury I would most likely be found,
Guilty of murder and sent to Leavensworth for the crime of killin' time!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
Entry for Barbara Gorelick's "Once Upon A 'Time'" Contest
God Sees All
(Short sermon on Integrity)
Written: by Tom Wright
2/19/2018)
Others evaluate us daily on hyperbole and fact,
Never on situations but how we’ve chose to react.
It’s often a reach from what the unknown might be,
Our Integrity is birthed in what peers think and see.
So it invariably behooves us to bring our “A” game,
Giving praise to God, not for some earthly acclaim;
To avoid being found culpable in inducing one’s fall,
Treat others with respect showing God’s love above all.
Our integrity becomes tarnished with each failed test,
By the unknown eyes which in our shadows may rest.
Constables Dogberry and Verges have Don John's cohorts that are bad.
The two men in their custody are named Borrachio and Conrad.
They confessed their involvement in the plot to shame Hero.
Don John took advantage of the gullibility of Claudio.
The friar and company spread the rumor that Hero died.
In reality, until she clears her name, Hero will merely hide.
Meanwhile, the culpable Don John has taken flight.
The enraged Benedick has challenged young Claudio to a fight.
Don't worry readers; everything will turn out right.
A happy ending to this play will soon be in sight.
Based on the play "Much Ado About Nothing" by William Shakespeare
UNSUPPORTED CODE
September 11, 2001
America Under Attack
Written: by Tom Wright
9/15/01
Lord,
look beneath our tears,
And broken hearts;
As we weigh our country's fate.
And through our tears and anger,
Help us dismantle
Our engine's of hate.
Grant us wisdom
Within each new day,
To be tolerant toward those we meet.
Defiling not innocence
As we right this wrong,
Placing responsibility at culpable feet;
For Lord,
lives will be infinitely changed,
Grand eulogies only tranquilize our pain.
We look once again,
In prayer, to You,
That our losses, we pray, be Heavens gain.
Let not us panic,
Nor become as critiques,
Of America and her resolve to defend;
But make common
Our passion for Jesus,
For on none other does it depend.
I desperately wanted to come back
And you surreptitiously checked out of my life
I no longer have a friend, confidant, lover and wife
Indeed, I’m out of luck
Thank God the firmament remains blue
The clouds are traipsing left and right
The birds are enjoying the slow flight
And my pain is fresh and new
Yet I’m a survivor
Indeed a valiant fighter
I resign myself to suffering for a while
I’m found guilty and sentenced
Without a fair and just trial
I realize that love makes no sense
You can laugh, giggle, jump and dance
I’m now hurt, out of luck, mute and unbalanced.
Copyright © July 2024, Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved.
Hébert Logerie is the author of several poetry collections.
Pas De Chance
Je voulais désespérément revenir
Mais tu as discrètement quitté ma vie
Je n'ai plus de femme, d’amante, de confidente, et d’amie
En effet, j’ai vu ma chance s’évanouir
Dieu merci, le firmament reste bleu, pas trop moche
Les nuages se déplacent à droite et à gauche
Les oiseaux de branches en branches s’envolent
Et ma douleur est fraîche et nouvelle
Pourtant je suis un survivant
En effet un vaillant combattant
Je me résigne à souffrir pour ce moment
Je suis reconnu coupable et condamné
Sans un procès équitable et approprié
Je réalise que l'amour est insensé
Tu peux rire, sauter, piaffer et danser
Et moi blessé, malchanceux, muet et déséquilibré.
Copyright © Juillet 2024, Hébert Logerie, Tous droits réservés.
Hébert Logerie est l'auteur de plusieurs recueils de poésie.
Sin Suerte
Yo deseaba desesperadamente volver
Y tú silenciosamente dejaste mi vida
Ya no tengo esposa, amante, confidente o amiga
De hecho, vi mi suerte desaparecer
Gracias a Dios el cielo sigue siendo azul, no demasiado feo
Las nubes se mueven a derecha e izquierda
Los pájaros vuelan de rama en rama
Y mi dolor es fresco y nuevo
Sin embargo, soy un sobreviviente
De hecho, un luchador valiente
Me resigno a sufrir este momento
Soy declarado culpable y sentenciado
Sin un juicio justo y adecuado
Me doy cuenta de que el amor no tiene sentido
Puedes reír, saltar, patear y bailar.
Y yo dolido, desafortunado, mudo y desequilibrado.
Copyright © Julio de 2024, Hébert Logerie, Todos los derechos reservados.
Hébert Logerie es autor de varias colecciones de poesía.