Long Disturbed Poems
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My mind is as fascinated with investments and divestments
as my body is attracted to healthy and beautiful vestments,
and haunted by prospects of naked loss of home
and integral identity.
My vested interests emerge issues and concerns about nutrition,
as opposed to malnutrition.
Nutrition, whether economic or political,
pursues ecologically systemic complexity.
PolyCultural nutrition can be consumed and produced by a healthy cooperative ecosystem,
while a monoculturally disturbed and aggressive absence of balance
harmony
grace
perpetuates internal v external systemic trauma.
We would all prefer,
regardless of cultural history of our vestments,
avoiding Other's aggressive win/lose values
without win/win cooperative body-health/mind-wealth merit
as effectively democratic,
confluently inclusive,
peacefully compassionate
as possible
through clear polypathic discernment,
multiculturally resilient wellness
passion/pleasure co-invested,
economically and politically co-arising
enlightening and empowering
compelling
spacious and timeless
harmoniously cooperative wealth
overwhelmingly vested
in nondual co-arising
mind/body
passion/pleasure climaxing
wealth/health co-infested experience
Whether the pantheistically connected mind of an ant
or polypathically EarthMother nurtured human,
whether the soulful voice of a river
or polyculturing choices of a rich forest,
or the SunFather enlightened spirit
of EarthMother's empowering cooperative nature
My mind invests in
and divests of
anthropocentric economic and political
monoculturing monotheistic history
Of healthy bodies and beautiful minds
spaciously and timelessly
haunted by monoculturing prospects
of sacred EarthMother's loveless loss,
homeless absence
of cooperatively organic
panentheistic Gaian integrity.
EarthTribe's co-empathic
beautifully invested mind,
fascinating co-empathic body-divestments,
where curious polypathic nature's nutrition
cultivates spiritual-mental health diversions,
spaciously enlightened and timelessly wealthy
co-arising authentically enlightened
and integrally empowering
bicameral left/righteousness
Polypathically organic minds
fascinated with investments and divestments
of panentheistically sacred bodies
attracted to politically healthy
and economically wealthy
creolizing Gaian co-infestments.
I
The forest of generations
Each tree with a tale to tell
Upon the rings of their foundations
Where each history dwells
Tress of new and trees of old
Wear leaves like feathers
To display their colors in bold
A culture’s greatest treasures
Peaceful lives preserved
Fallen seeds writing new histories
Until the process was disturbed
By unexpected naval deliveries
A new species brought aboard
And spread among the trees
Where years’ traditions are stored
We’ll replace them with these:
That eat away at the leaves
Like a caterpillar without a cycle
These cultural thieves
Stole with greed on their arrival
Although some free of evil
Just a species displaced
A threat to the people
When their local culture’s defaced
As they die away
Their colors become one
A global shift underway
Their histories undone
For every leaf that falls
A culture’s dead and gone
Hearing the distant calls
As we approach the dawn…
I feel I'm on a razor's edge
twixt madness and sanity,
disturbed derangement,
orderly rationality,
alternating my being,
a multiple personality stance
not willingly on my part.
Why must we have war on a lovely planet>
The horrible fear is
that I prefer the dark moments
when cruelty surfaces
in my alter ego,
when an invariant being
is hell-bent on destruction.
Then my razor blade flashes
in the dim lights of dark allies,
blood sprouts from some jugular veins,
forming a red oozy river
that covers the smell
of the godforsaken place.’
War is so dreadful.
Then do I become sane
and cry in pain
for the victims’ deaths.
Placed 1
She, who consumed poison
From the sight of blood that gradually rotted
For all she could do was endure the smell
Of a body bound to rot.
Blood is thicker than water
That blood was half of hers
But she masked the faint smell in rotting juice.
She knew, everyone else did too.
One claims to know the holistic answers
Until it becomes their situation.
I understand the imagined smell
And the body yet to fall
Through the black lingering mist.
Nothing shines upon them in your eyes anymore.
The wacky laugh becomes unsettling
When the empty mouth opens.
There is nothing funny to laugh at
When the laugh almost wasted him away.
The joke does not exist
When the joke exists inside the scrambled brains of eight years.
Innocence is sweet
Ignorance is perfect.
Now the woman saw the corpse for what it wanted
The rotting smell wasn’t so bad
Blood became thicker than ever.
Water became her companion.
Others await in the same wait.
Disturbed by the sight of the soon-to-be rotting body
Unsure of what to do
Except to drink the rotting juice.
No out
A man coming home from work saw a shadow
a figure leaning against a dead olive polishing
his hoofs and sharpening his scythe.
The man said no, you are too young to harvest
he then took a plane to Madrid
where he got employment at a legal office.
the first day, he knocked on the door
death sat in the chair and said
from now on, you are my helper
Go back home and dispose of your parents and their
time has come, greatly disturbed
the man took a plane home
and the death was leaning against an olive tree
a shadow on a sunny autumnal
day. In the house, his parents said they had buried
their son, but they did not see or hear him,
and the man knew that henceforward he was
Death`s little helper.
At night
a shot or two
rings out.
Vartan turns over
and looks at his wife
safely on the side of the bed
away from the window.
He senses
the difference between
sounds of alcohol fueled rounds,
and those from long ago, booted
hate filled men.
Sunland-Tujunga.
The late night discharges
of aimless despair.
Most early Saturdays,
he leans on the same white wall,
black grilled windows, no signs,
no numbers.
The corner of his street and
Foothill Boulevard.
He and his friend, Marhar,
smoke in the morning sun.
They are disturbed only by
an occasional car with an emboldened exhaust.
They know from passed down stories
the deep chill of Zeitoun,
the snow,
the shooting,
the running.
The hiding in caves.
The red lines in the snow.
They know in their veins
who they are,
even against this warm,
white, unblemished, smooth wall.
They are all the lost brothers.
Boys.
They shiver.
They weren’t there.
It was too long ago.
They were there.
Instead, one tells a story
of last night’s
Knuckle-Bones game
and what they won
or lost.
It is a better
to laugh,
shake the head.
Not bury one
on top of the other.
dressed for murder
Autumn leaves have made the track in the forest a wonder
to walk, the summer is over, and now the best time of the year beckons.
Stillness, a squirrel is busy collecting nuts; they have seen me before
and see no reason to stop their task.
A black snake scuttles across
the track and appears annoyed, like I should have disturbed
The natural order of things: snakes catch squirrels.
It was a serpent that ed up Adam and Eve`s dream of Paradise,
a small bungalow and a few pigs, was that too much to ask?
Up north, they kill seals, they eat our fish, so we kill them and women
They were beautiful coats, especially baby skin fur, but that is ok,
The sea is our larder.
My planets evolve around you
Like the triumphant sun in the spacious galaxies
My regrets dissolve away too
Like rock, reduced to pure crystal sand at ease
Chasing after you like a shooting star
In the moonlit, scarlet-black sky
You’re going so far, so far, so far, so far
I will admit — I am obsessed with you can’t lie
Can’t deny
Control it, the feelings that ruin me
Control it, the emotions that dare break me
I want to break free
I feel sad, no room for glee
My planets evolve around you
Around you, around you, oh so true
As if you’re my sun in the galaxies of the universe
Is life a gift or a curse?
I dream of tragedy in reverse
Let’s see what cheerfulness I can rehearse
My heart pounds like drums at nightfall
And I’m unstoppable like a runner on the ball
I’m capable of being stronger than I realize and all
Troubled, disturbed and struggling in a free-fall to stand tall
Chasing after you like a shooting star
In the moonlit, scarlet-black sky
You’re going so far, so far, so far, so far
I will admit — I am obsessed with you can’t lie
Can’t deny
Control it, the feelings that ruin me
Control it, the emotions that dare break me
I want to break free
I feel sad, no room for glee
My planets evolve around you
Around you, around you, oh so true
As if you’re my sun in the galaxies of the universe
Is life a gift or a curse?
I dream of tragedy in reverse
Let’s see what cheerfulness I can rehearse
It’s your turn to love me back
If not, back away from me
If not, be gone and let me backtrack
Back to the future of liberty
My planets evolve around you
Around you, around you, oh so true
As if you’re my sun in the galaxies of the universe
Is life a gift or a curse?
I dream of tragedy in reverse
Let’s see what cheerfulness I can rehearse
I know that I’m addicted Although it’s self inflicted Life is not what I depicted To this I am convicted I don’t want any help I want to do it myself My efforts are in vain It’s impossible to abstain Even when I try distraction My demons say time for action I wish I could just have them slain But I can’t nor my life regain Even if I could ebb the woes The need for this never slows I am losing this battle, feeling drained my brain will simply not be retrained Please someone give me the solution End the voices and my mind pollution Or I know what I’m destined for If I can’t beat this I’ll be here no more
Now for that reason I'm disturbed
But here's the real news feed
I'm addicted to my words
But in your mind you was thinking weed
Don't come, do not come
Do not come to my funeral
Do not come to my burial
Stay home in a quiet room
To read my God-given poems
Be inspired and turn them into songs.
You were absent in my life
When I was ill, well and alive
You were away, far from my strife
Finally, Peace is my beautiful wife
She and I do not want to be disturbed
We want to be left alone on the curb.
Do not come to waste your time
You have better things to do right now
Gas is too expensive, do not waste a dime
Dry cleaning is not cheap, respect my vow
Do not come to my funeral
Do not come to my burial.
I will invite strangers, poets, and thinkers
I'll welcome priests, imams and some good pastors
The ceremony will take place fifty years from now
Most people who are alive today will be gone
I know. You probably ponder and wonder how
Oh! If I reveal the secret, I will not be forgiven.
Do not kill the flowers, bring me your smile
Send me your letters and blow a few kisses
Do not shed a tear, come happy with style
Sing me a few songs, and play some nice pieces
Only strangers will be invited at my funeral
Only thinkers will be welcome to my burial.
Hebert Logerie Tuesday, December 15, 2015