Long Exterminate Poems
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Let us celebrate
This is not time to denigrate
Nigerians rise and jubilate
Cause we are poised to rethink and meditate
Let us roll out the drums
This is not the time to keep mum
Let the air be filled with fun
To drown the wailings and guns
Democracy has come to stay in Nigeria history
Let us celebrate a hard- won victory
A milestone in the country's trajectory
Prophets of doom remain confounded and desultory
Nigeria the hope of the black race
Rise up and keep the pace
Exterminate corruption without trace
And give the country a new face
You are destined for Leadership
A rallying point for African Fellowship
Do not be deterred by the present hardship
From claiming your divine kingship
Our world is under relentless attack
We all need to be careful about the impact
Of this virus on us. Be strong, healthy and positive
About defeating “Hate”. Be active. Be proactive
Wash our hands and brains and stay awake, away
From people who’re sick, sneezing and thrown away
By the toxic virus, which is attacking all of us
We’re under attack; we need to exterminate this bug
Which is invisible, and elusive. Spray under the rug
And disinfect from top to bottom. Let’s be the boss
Of HATRED-100. We’re under constant attack
Let’s fight back. Let’s push back
This pandemic. There’s no need to panic
Yes, this is not the time to have a picnic
Let’s be safe and conservative
Let’s be careful, personal and proactive
Exercise, jump for joy. No ‘high five’ please
We must defeat this deadly disease
Our world is under unrelenting attack
The enemy is deadly and elusive
We all must fight and push back
We must be strong and proactive
Be prudent against all enemies
Say thank you, you’re welcome and please
Wash our hands, love our friends
Kill the virus by sanitizing our brains
Hearts, souls, spleens and hands
And keep Hatred away from our friends
From our neighbors and from the folks
Of our surroundings. Hate is no joke, no hoax
Love is the answer, love is the panaceas
Love is hope. Love is the antidote against all galimatias.
Copyright © March 2024, Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved.
Hébert Logerie is the author of several collections of poems.
Banking on inherited memories rejuvenates me.
As and when I remember the memories
That me and my people long to cherish
And those me and my people despise to relish
To remember not as memoirs
But as inerasable scars.
The nation, the geography, the war, the leaders
The language, the temples, the forts and those statues, and the ethnicity
Then comes an innate xenophobia
That declares me and my people as more equal than others;
And others do live in History’s mischief,
Bloodshed as part of the living
And for the living of me and my people,
And the making of the histories
That I and my people have today
As glorious moments of the past for the present
But for those who produced this wicked ‘hero’
That is unexplainable.
The unforgettable’s enigmatic inexplicable
And this makes me feel the heroic deeds
And the unheroic moments as great periods
And people who built that fort and this temple.
I only consume History.
Producer of History
Learning from the past bloopers
I reconstruct the future through THIS present.
And those present here.
There is NO present as such
For humans live in past glories
And memories that are painful
To think about the future
And the prospective futures
Those (are) perceived either in fear or in hyper ambitions.
The past seems to me
A mere wars-the wars fought
For a feudal by a feudal
Or those slaves-(Both physical and social).
Those kings and their courtesans
The numerous wives and those concubines
The titles and the moribund army.
The modern PROMOTERS of democracy
Yet the common man was ‘there’
But not living.
I exterminate all the above
Including the democracy,
The dictatorship of the preliterate,
The religious kingdom, the Islamic republic.
Egalitarian society for all- the inclusive growth
I will have equality
Where people are equal
In all but something giving room for those
Like I who would like to produce
History- future history.
I produce History
Not for History’s sake
For myself – my sake.
I wish for a story of pain and pine for its precious work
But my prejudiced and entitled heart is not worthy
For I have been found guilty by reason of DNA
Even now your consternation percolates
Shields come up and default indictments formulated
The racist bastard is juxtaposing with reverse psychology
From a mile away you can smell my motives
You have been trained well to spot me behind every bush
I once pounded my chest in a busy place of concourse
I am the last of those who punish worlds unlike my own
Natural consequence has plagued ma vlast
This is how the Christian god made the world
Hate the sin but loathe the sinner
Know that your fathers sins will flush you out
Lest your children be found unclean
Pull the switch. Do it you righteous S.O.B.!
Euthanize me by reason of the prevailing wind
Exterminate me before I multiply again
Give me back your death. I deserve and desire it.
I am the last one standing with entitled blood in my veins
Innocent essence is spattered across my smelly white shirt
My beard is itchy from the powder of a good man’s bones
History indicts me. Perception is reality
When I am gone hate will be dead forever
Nobody will talk about this ever again
My last words upon the scaffold will be
We come from the same village
I have a good-looking piano
I have a splendid kitchen…
overflowing with fruit
I have a wonderful future
to look forward to
I have a hearts for
harmonizing with my sister;
my voice sounds like a flute
I have a couple of guitars…
but no drums to pound on
I have tons of songs to write…
for you
I have a decent apartment –
a family-oriented environment
I have drawings all over the place…
hanging up on my walls
I have an awesome summer
to set my mind on
Ha-ha,
but unfortunately,
I have to stay busy with my mowing job…
But I won’t have time
to laze around and sob!
I need to stay true
to my schedule…
No time for summer school…
thank the Lord Almighty ~
No time to horse around…
Oh no!
No time to act naughty ~
I have a room
I share with my bro…
BUT he plays his rap music too loud,
Yah know?
I have a trillion poems to organize
I’m lacking motivation fuel
Every day,
I want to be satisfied with what I have
and I refuse to feel unhappy
Every day,
I always long for
more confidence to exterminate my negativity
Every single day,
I have to admit that
I can get stubborn at times
Almost every night,
I search for the answers…
In prayer,
I seek for my
Deliverance from Egypt
Help me stay focus and be equipped
Or I’ll be outstripped
Or…whipped
I have a virtuous, marvelous God
Who crafts miracles?
Who gives everyone blessings that deserve it?
Who delivers people out of Egypt?
Who listens and answers to our supplications?
Who is the Father of us all?
Is it God? – Yes
I have a long-term goal
That sticks to my brain like brain tissue
I have a family who taught me how to sing
Who taught me
The difference between what’s right
And what’s wrong
I have a million things to do…
Invigorating ideas shimmers anew
Ideas for the summertime…
Lists of things to do to keep myself busy
At least I have some friends and family
to spend time with 24/7 –
That’s what I call
True Heaven
I’m thirsty for assurance
I’m hungry for reverence
I’m hoping to be of your assistance
Not your adversary…not your encumbrance…
But, I’m sick of playing the fool –
I’m probing for His acceptance
I’m yearning for my independence,
not your vengeance…not your eloquence…
I want to be as constructive as a handy tool
They tried to silence the music
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The Spanish, the Portuguese, the French, the British.
They all tried to mute, to squelch the songs, using genocide.
They all tried to eradicate the golden voices of warrior Eagles.
They all tried to erase the echoing beat from the drums of this land.
Tyranny, genocide was the raging noise, drowning out the music.
Yet, in over four hundred years, they all, could not kill their songs
of life, of love, of respect for all that Mother Earth has provided man.
Be he of the original colour, or caucasian, yellow, dark brown, or black.
They all have failed to exterminate, to terminate the First Nation’s voice.
A voice, who’s soul, soars on high, above them all, on the winds of eternal time.
All the First Nation’s, Heroes, their Prophets, have stated, our voices will be heard.
We will once again become the music, the beat, the songs, the voices of pure reason.
B. J. “ A ” 2
December 11th, 2017
Are crack babies born to addiction
a result of love's contradiction?
And what reality rules your life
a happy home, a husband or wife?
Is it cottages, cars, and riches,
or alleyways, gutters, and ditches?
And politicians earning your votes
or spending taxes on trips and boats.
The rich preach about helping the poor
but hoard the keys that lock every door.
And preachers hear voices in their head
fleecing the crowd that's pushed to be led.
A destitute voice carries no weight,
effectively silenced by its fate.
For in this world of contempt and greed,
poor people starve while the wealthy feed.
We unashamedly embrace hate
in our hurry to exterminate.
But, when one dies as a human bomb,
doesn't that indicate something's wrong?
(Rhyme)
5/22/2013
Of thee virtual netherland...
courtesy one spellbound wordsmith
within apartment b44
nestled within a manor
(and manner of writing)
atop nondescript Schwenksville highland.
All gibbets zing aside
I got noose for you,
yours truly enjoys harmless chide
ding even kibitizing about,
when cessation of consciousness occurs
leaving terrestrial plane
frequently incorporates divine spirit as guide
absolute zero escape
regarding death to override.
Oft times ('specially
these latter unsainted days and nights)
death doth haunt me atheistic zeitgeist
which thoughts of my demise
crowds out purposeful thinking
in the twitching mind kempf
paradigm of this atheist
hence, he betook himself
to this MacBook Pro,
while swiss side dull ideations
for professional intercession,
deadline could not wait
asper affecting s cathartic,
emetic, harmonic tete a tete
and providing a meaningful surrogate
to expunge morbid mental state
accessed Open Office
and let fingers (of left hand)
do talking heads
to an imaginary therapist
across this qwerty keyboard
allowing, enabling, and
at the quickest typing rate
striving to cap cha dismal, gloomy,
and ill lust tree us deplorable
mood aye equate
with pitching into
a bottomless abyss where pate
fed ceaseless diet of NON GMO –
a last repast
the grim reaper did orchestrate
gluten free, an extra heavy dose
of monosodium glutamate
which ingredient doth
BuzzFeed thine appetite
for total mortal exterminate
'thou no need fermi to rush,
where angels fear to tread,
cuz tis better late
than never, the apothegm,
credo, ethos...foreign ha Kate
the caterer maintains
an open exit from life,
and cares only
that each soul doth feel elan,
joie de vivre, and psalm times
a leaper chants, ecstatically finally
gustatory humming don't jubilate
for your final homecoming, or else
the mailer daemon lived
a devilish life will instigate
a de coup age d'etat,
but such extreme
measure for measure heed doth hate,
yet exceptions always made for a date
particularly when henchmen to die for
golden opportunity
to snatch a generic guy a create
an underground soiree will cease,
when ashes master
of hell raising circumstances
twill use as bait
let underground missionary be advocate.
I dreamt of embracing the abyss
I slept in silence and grief
Exterminate my negativity
Make me feel whole...fill in my holes...and lead me to eternal bliss and prosperity
Time is ticking like a bomb about to blow up into smoke and flame
It alarms to say this, but how DARE you waste my valuable time
Bite the bullet (ooh ohh ohh ohh yeah)
Bite the bullet...see right through it...
See right through my pain
And I'm still waiting for His healing rain
To shower upon me relief...
(ooh x7)
Don't drown in stress and misery...reach and hold on to the rope of hope
With a firm grip...
Of reality
Or are you willing to accept
My helping hand?
Allow me escort you to the Promise Land
Bite the bullet (ooh ohh ohh ohh yeah)
Bite the bullet...see right through it...
See right through my pain
And I'm still waiting for His healing rain
To shower upon me relief...
(ooh x7)
I dreamt of embracing the abyss
I slept in silence and grief
Exterminate my negativity
Make me feel whole...fill in my holes...and lead me to eternal bliss and prosperity
Bite the bullet (ooh ohh ohh ohh yeah)
Bite the bullet...see right through it...
See right through my pain
And I'm still waiting for His healing rain
To shower upon me relief...
(ooh x7)
Time is ringing like a church bell in the night...it's your time to say goodbye and it's our time to explore the light...
In goodbye...oh, how time flies...
Conceal the farewells...and blow away the woeful lies
Bite the bullet (ooh ohh ohh ohh yeah)
Bite the bullet...see right through it...
See right through my pain
And I'm still waiting for His healing rain
To shower upon me relief...
(ooh x7)
Bite the bullet
And snatch the rope
Ignore to rising debt
And marry good luck...
And catch gratifying hope
Before it slips away into the raging waters
Bite the bullet (ooh ohh ohh ohh yeah)
Bite the bullet...see right through it...
See right through my pain
And I'm still waiting for His healing rain
To shower upon me relief...
(ooh x7)
You and I will watch the sunset and the gorgeous waterfalls
If I'm not available, leave me a message and remember to always remember that
God always answers His calls
Futile effort to plunger the clogged kitchen sink...
courtesy malfunctioning garbage disposal
which won't be removed
by onsite maintenance man
UNTIL/UNLESS
fruit fly excreta wiped off
(impossible to access)
areas along bathroom and kitchen walls
so communicated "the warden."
Thus we (yours truly and his missus)
subjected to inhale
putrid, offal, and noxious
smelling stagnant water
until every streak
telltale sign regarding Drosophila melanogaster
exuded excretory evidence
vanishes without a trace
vis a vis thru cutting
qua yellow elbow grease.
Aforementioned hardy critter
approximately three millimeters in length
and two millimeters in width
one defiant little bugger
proliferate - reproductive propensity
of fruit fly enormous
under ideal circumstances
female lays about 500 eggs
impossible mission to exterminate
or extinguish pesky species
without declaring total mortal kombat,
and even then
no guarantee targeted
above named mite size bug
nsync with his/her brethren
blown to smithereens.
Despite all pervasive existence
plus ingress into mine nasal passage
as nostril dam us foretold
annoyance on par with midges
flying up into nose
far more tolerable
synonymous with lesser of two evils
versus exhausting these lovely bones
tirelessly suctioning refuse
pooling fetid water.
I will seriously ponder
posting gofundme site
as a last ditch effort
to escape nauseating
effluence out the plumbing bowels
worse smell than rotten Gotham
sliding down into behavioral sink
if management here
at Highland Manor Apartments
decrees fiat all secretion
indeed linkedin with fruit fly eliminated.