Long Emancipation Poems
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a ghazal
She needs a separation, you can understand,
it involves subjugation, you can understand.
Her boss at work chooses only female colleagues,
some may be a temptation, you can understand.
On break, his frequent jokes border on harassment,
it is only flirtation, you can understand.
Often we see him out in public with his wife
in pleasant conversation you can understand.
But when he’s at work, he’s much too touchy-feely;
it’s not imagination, you can understand.
Quitting her job, she proceeds on to better things;
though he’s the aggravation, you can understand.
Relief is coming to her senses, she proclaims
her self-emancipation, you can understand.
"The Mirrored War Room"
We are all mirrors
cloned reflections
The Key of Life
turns
Inside Woman
Womb eternal
Fallopian armed
for Love and War
left and right
Inside Woman
Portal
past into future
through other worldly
dimension
The Key of Life
turns
Inside Woman
The pain of childbirth
a small cross to bear
Soul transported
from the dark chamber
touched briefly
by the life giving Man
transported to
Life’s war room
received through a corridor
of temporal paradox
What Light
waits the other side?
Soul delivered safely
predestined
unsafe unknown emancipation
Another soul looks
for its Self
In the Mirrored War Room
Windows reflecting Windows reflecting
now slowly opening
knowledge
arrives
Soul finds Self
In the Mirrored War Room
Repeats Life Lessons
Remission of Sins
Soul departs Self
Survives
Returns,
Begins Again
(LadyLabyrinth / 2020)
ljb/llb/gvlm
1. Emancipation
2. Women
3. Self Image/Perception
4. Soul
5. Reincarnation
6. Remission of Sins
7. Man
8. Life
9. Light
10.Love
Let's sever all the chains
Through all types of pains
In order to get there
Let's take the trains
In order to get there
We must fight for our rights
We are not afraid to turn days
Into wonderful and starry nights
In order to enjoy better journeys.
Let's break all the chains
Together
Through various unbearable pains
Let's take the trains
Together
In order to reach the mountaintop
Ladies and gentlemen, this is no small trap
We are determined to get there
It is the right thing to do on this sphere.
Let's cut the odious chains
Amidst all plethora of pains
With all our might
Let's take the speedy trains
In the middle of the fight
We will turn nights into days
In order to enjoy better journeys
The struggle is a very long one
This is a battle that we will win.
Copyright © May 2021, Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved.
Hébert Logerie is the author of several collections of poetry.
In the course of social evolution,
selective and complex, the skewed customs
placed men in the lead, women behind,
for they are deemed the weaker gender,
born unequal in the nonpartisan world
under the blue sky of freedom for everyone,
to obey and to follow, subjugated.
As the dark clouds of imposed illiteracy
and obdurate poverty drift slowly away,
the sun of aspiration shines equally
with the dormant dreams for everybody,
and as the archaic social norms
crumble in the egalitarian cauldron,
women see the gleam of emancipation
at the enlightened end of the ancient tunnel.
It’s time for the tenets of human right
to redesign the frayed social fabric.
Let not the gender variance divide unevenly
the opportunities and obligations.
The captive womenhood would then
be free to reach where men are,
breaking the contrived glass ceiling.
wing my loss) if grim reaper
came for das scribe as skew
ward poem attempted to infer, now
circling back to your queue
ped ditty linkedin with aforementioned
poppycock poo poo
merely a hypothetical premise aye drew
if my unexpected demise took place
husbanding half a motley crue
(ideally such unexpected tragedy
ideally tubby quick and painless)
without war ning, via internal bombardier
in tandem with luft waffe.
Sorry for rather somber tone -
but this psychological state
of yo dough less bro
affected by his reading,
autobiography coup (now, no idea titled tract)
d’état of Abraham Lincoln -
the author drew
my rapt attention (american history
strong interest) – whereby
past, present n near fee var few
chore wrenched with both
prized progeny persevering
(as they should) a path to hew
of their own making,
which steps toward emancipation
(worthy proclamation) for gentile or Jew,
these kindred (chromosomal byproducts
from countless chanced
genetic dice throws)
perhaps n uncle or aunt a bit loo
knee, perchance dna housed new
bile queen of the nile,
where (August) Caesar
didst hotly pursue
anyway....yes, lives of
deux darling daughters
un wii ting lee triggered flashback,
when self worth equaled zero
tricked, replayed, and generated
mine horror silent film
to rewind at nadir total fall out,
when anorexia nervosa did stew
underscore ring (four decades plus…) true
value of this moment colliding
with elapsing squandered
youth in rear view
mirror, unseen only
by ma doppelganger,
I now close with whew!
Of course,
Christmas is
about Christ...
Dah!~ it is in
the name --
As evil is in Devil
whom we blame;
while man could be the
author of his own push/pull
game? Reality his own
Virtual? --
just think about it...
without our need
no talk of heaven
and hell...
unless
there are other planets
under such cryptic
spell
creation replete with
condemnation
and emancipation --
----------------------
Something is off...
a loving God that
would devolve spirit
as miracle flesh being
to pain some eternally
for His Own flaw
if imperfect Freeing?
I once owned a uniform that shone in pride
The polished brass, creases and lines
An army of friends and civilian respect
I marched upon every street, placed every laureate
The glowing admiration, the tireless market
Of gazing faces that sung even to the heartless
Badgered by memories that I couldn’t forget
Now withered and worn the years of regret
My mental battle the suffering toll of silence
No words I could mouth about the raw entirety
Flashbacks of those wars supplying me
But I sit a cluster of before
My battlefield a daily occurrence of aimlessly wandering
In routine emergence
of seeking cigarette butts and borrowing more time and beer
To drown out the battle none but mine could hear
I clamber from bush broken sunlight, coughing up
The empty sobriety of reality
Just a used device a human resource
Hoodwinked and lead noose in ignorant obligation
A never-ending instigation from mind emancipation
From this dumb founded degree of humiliation
Drunken laughter upon this man once bold
Pissing on the soul, and soles of my ragged boots I couldn’t maintain or even hold
Completely neglected by all I did serve
Now served by a starvational solitude
A face that none could remember, a shadow of my youth
Just aloof, wandering every day until my feet give up from the holes in my boots
Until I drop dead like the rest of the ‘glorious dead’
Should have been left with my rifle on a battlefield proper
Something my mind could accept, something I would now offer.
And who would care and would begin to wonder
Who these men were and why in such slumber
After all I am just a homeless soldier.
This poetic attempt an abbreviation
how biological insemination
(minus in vitro fertilization)
seeds latent *****sapiens reproduction
possibly since moment of conception,
whereby inchoate progeny
impossible to sustain
fantastic, holistic, terrific... weatherization
against prejudicial germs
that elude uterine infiltration
entering womb thru fallopian tube,
or courtesy external drive
re: environmental perturbation
microscopically initiating
biological emancipation
thank you prick llama chin
please withhold ovation
setting in cellular division motion
begetting August poetic
jejune chain reaction
triggering anonymous
reader to yawn nonstop - definite indication
that yours truly induces excitation
in short shrift inducing
somniferous maximization,
yet for those readers
still awake lemme thank
your much ado about
nothing voluntary solicitation
to decrypt poetic
explanation, explication, exploration...
not asking concordance or agreement (ha)
without being redundant, nor repetitive
with my matted trademark communication
detailing mine opinion
courtesy quasi succinct elaboration
i.e. during the process
of in utero gestation
the embryo/fetus absorbs influences -
sorry no summation
in sight, not even
at anticipated parturition
cuz effects upon psyche of unborn
(unknown even by the twelfth night)
even after birth manifestation
within mind of next generation
heavily impacted courtesy
infernal contribution
despite most commendable
effort at postnatal
efforts to chaperone
son/daughter insulation
against prejudice virtually
impossible mission
(even spectre Tack Cuéllar,
viz ghost of Peter Graves
unable to succeed at extirpation
unfavorable antisemitism, bigotry, cruelty...
I concur religious,
racial, nationality... integration,
could certainly help deescalation
hmm... boot perhaps...
maybe not total elimination...,
yet such salient measure
could help offset blatant
outright, pervasive, queasy...
lifelong societal and personal ramification,
this targeted token
"scapegoat" closes his wordy attestation.
THE sun superbly smiles in the world
The faces of the people become impeccably bright
And the birds brood, sing softly enraptured,
Wet green grass glean with dew light,
Various flowers loutishly bloom bright and fresh
And the dull, dark night stars disappear,
A breeze cuts through the world without brash,
Hearts of people beat lightly the rhythm they endear
And their souls unburdened duly of dubious oppression,
Their formerly bowed backs now straitening,
Some jubilant wiping the sweat of emancipation
From their victorious visages, now blatantly beaming;
And the mountains seem to recede down to plains,
The burly, bullish bushes let sun rays penetrate,
The rivers flow on sun shined land, colorlessly sedate,
Seas now smell of edible, huge fish’
And thence, the long eagerly awaited tuneful liberation
Emerges from the sun-coated east horizon goldfish
Spreading luxuriantly to the west with expectation
who left trail of heartbroken sage woman
commander in chief deliberately stoked,
née sparked long
simmering smoldering, and stewing
long festering white supremacist altercation
fiendishly igniting racial conflagration
exploding during late spring 2020.
No matter no child left behind kibitzing
(yours truly as boy plucked petals
off daisy reciting "she loves me,"
"she loves me not"...
cupid loosed an arrow
into boyhood neighborhood sweetheart
she innocently bespoke
"I wanna marry you,"
when uttered courtesy Sherry Jones,
a little girl who lived
approximately three doors down
along cul-de-sac within Apple Valley
perpendicular to Lantern Lane,
or more age apropos,
when young gallivanting
purported vestal virgin ladies
nonverbally signalled
libidinal proclamations of emancipation,
as demurely expressed
lest unlucky (chaste into)
precocious phallic proclivity
suffered the punishment
of being buried alive.
Now back to present day,
when our old geezer,
the prototype garden variety
male of present poem -
any resemblance between general referenced
fella and living persons purely coincidental.
He (yours truly) easily qualified as
overly cocky whippersnapper,
i.e. young buck and/or Casanova wannabe
experienced bit torrent
hormonal secretions gushed
particularly in close proximity
wherein wafted pheromones -
think a waif faring ingénue.
As evident and quite obvious,
I fabricate (prevaricating
my signature trademark)
rather than stating bland reality stark,
yet will plainly explain issue
in summary essential rhyme
without reason constitutes
nothing more spectacular than
garden variety generic pockmark
excised pustule ofttimes hallmark
of teenage/ pubescent pimply benchmark.