Long Exterminators Poems
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So you think that trolls and dragons
Are definitely not for real
You surely haven't talked with Carol lately
It's more than just a feel
They eat her food and occupy her house
Sometimes hide Mike's pyjamas
And we all know what that can lead to
If we only had a camera
Never a dull moment at Carol's place
Constantly messing her stuff
Fire comes out as Mr. Dragon cracks up
Then giggles at Mike in the buff
The local Dragon and Troll Exterminators
Have promised to get rid of these guys
But she's grown to love 'em a whole big bunch
Won't be party to their demise
So the Dragons and Trolls will have a home
At least for the foreseeable future
What a sweet ending to my poem about love
Tween Carol and her adorable creatures!
© Jack Ellison 2013
So you think that trolls and dragons
Are definitely not for real
You surely haven't talked with Carol lately
It's more than just a feel
They eat her food and occupy her house
Sometimes hide Mike's pyjamas
And we all know what that can lead to
If we only had a camera
Never a dull moment at Carol's place
Constantly messing her stuff
Fire comes out as Mr. Dragon cracks up
Then giggles at Mike in the buff
The local Dragon and Troll Exterminators
Have promised to get rid of these guys
But she's grown to love 'em a whole big bunch
Won't be party to their demise
So the Dragons and Trolls will have a home
At least for the foreseeable future
What a sweet ending to my poem about love
Tween Carol and her adorable creatures!
© Jack Ellison 2015
Believe it or not, their ubiquitous webs
Are everywhere; they are the dictators
Who kidnap, maim, torture and kill teachers,
Poets, ordinary folks and babies in their cribs.
They rob and ransack innocent citizens,
Steal elections and after a lifetime in power,
Categorically refuse to leave the tower.
Very often, they do everything to muzzle the chickens.
Monsters are constantly in disguise,
They are well dressed, they wear uniforms,
They know how to blend and to socialize.
Monsters, at every turn, want to control the dorms,
Manipulate the data, fool the media,
Hire henchmen and spread false propaganda.
Monsters behave like manipulative magicians,
They suck the air out of the innocent bystanders,
Befriend desperate and impoverished musicians,
Surreptitiously inveigle the nosy neighbors
To exteriorize their feelings, and they spy and lie,
At every opportunity; and at every occasion,
They bury their preys alive in the dungeon.
Believe it or not, monsters are like rats,
Their appetite is insatiable; they crawl under the mats,
Bite babies, steal millions, and hide the money in overseas coffers;
They rape young boys and girls, and destroy the future of many.
The revolution was not done right ‘cause the kidnappers,
The pick pockets and their accomplices are still under the tree.
Those raccoons, those bedbugs don't go away easily.
They outlive the exterminators. These goons are really bright.
Be cautious, because they are out there day and night,
Operating at every meeting and at every party.
Believe it or not, all bad things must come to an end:
The lies, the crimes, and the arbitrary executions of the church band.
Copyright© February 2012, Hebert Logerie, All Rights Reserved
Hébert Logerie is the author of several poetry books:
Whatever next, Whatever next.
They no longer feed babies from the breast
No longer need a mum or dad
Churn them out with a hollowed rod
Saving mankind, so they say
Or altering nature in a little.
Whatever next, whatever next
You dare not preach
You dare not protest
Big brother watches from the sky
Action replayed, you dare not lie.
Whatever next, whatever next
Carrying out neutron and atomic test
Duplicity of aim to natures call
Compounding wisdom
On the exterminators wall
If this is justice ,where would liberty be?
When we are caught up in a madness
Which will not set the spirit free
Whatever next, whatever next
Robotics, automation, space flight
Intergalactic enquiries, oblivious to the reality
Of man-made frivolities
While the eyes are looking to the heavens
Looses sight of the green grass
That has grown between the feet
In the dew of the night,
Embracing nature, giving life
Whatever next, whatever next
Humanity at war,
Poor people under duress
Some people starve
While others, belly burst.
Not a figment of my imagination
While in god we trust
Whatever next , whatever next
Outer cosmos sky-gazing
While others take flight
In desperate searches,
only to succeed with washed up hopes
On yonder sea shores and desolate beaches
By Vicki Acquah on Thursday, April 18, 2013
Prince Kennedy & Oladeji Vicki Acquah
Disappeared
We- are gone
diluted into oblivion
we have nothing left but our footprints
The handwriting is no longer on the wall
The noses are broken off
we are no longer us
Obscurely written out of
life's script, no future roles to play.
The primitive man and all modern
day caveman - and sand men have
forgotten the people of the soil-and
the trees and the water and the mountains
women behaving _nonchalantly___
as they watch -us being erased;
Written out of history.
What is left of us
we who write poetry
that does not impress wealth,
they eat, we die -- they drink
we go thirsty, they make
merry with their Dirty sex;
While we imitate our exterminators.
we disappear with
broken noses and borrowed hair
We are no more.
Our costumes died
then our children
with no past and no future
we are no more~~~~
Now that we are being
created by our scribes;
penned down ages before we could
realize that our solemn but
equivocal art, superimposed
with fervent sentences bore
more intonations & meanings
than maidenly sought;
We lie within our meditative silences.
Reminiscing the helter,skelter and
dither, through which our stories
were told in words.
While the strokes by our quills
fade & shiver to sheer posterity
but eventful mileages;
We beseech this forthcoming generation
To voice out in unison the
unfinished phrases, but clauses
yet again.We are now no more.
Although there were a few scattered
prospects yet to be achieved;
we lie abed not asunder,
With no regret or fear or whatsoever
We are no more.
Only in fiction shall we meet
To play our parts with unsung aptitude.
As our styles are pursued;
Until then, we are no more.
As life still beckons on
with trajectories being preached
but sold,We pray you, this age
that celerity & glee fuel your
palms but gumption's with
deepened emotions & thinking caps.
As the die is cast,
Till the results are known;
We are now no more!
Honest salesman is a semi-oxymoron
Just like an honest politician
Please do not laugh, all lawyers or
Accountants are not crooks. When the door
Is wide open a mouse, a rat, a cockroach
Would me more than happy to approach
Some politicians have tried to be better
And more credible. Some are men/women of honor
However, others are pathological liars
They are professionals who behave like traitors
They think that the "truth is not the truth". They're confused
Lies are lies. Dogs are dogs. Politicians play politics
Call the exterminators to annihilate the ticks
Liars always ignore the truth. Please, let's not mused
In politics, it is probably not easy to be too honest
Because so much is involved. Let's chase the pests
The corrupt politicians who are ruining everything
And destroying the dream. Let them flee. Let's ring
The bells. Not all politicians are crooked or criminals
That's true. I am not lying, just check the election polls.
Copyright © November 2018, Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved.
Hébert Logerie is the author of several books of poetry.
Do not make love in me die
Humans exist because of love
It is from the Above
It is love from him and her
I need it to feel a real human
Never make love in me perish
For it nurtures my heart
Only true love begets affection
Fertilises both body and soul
Killing it destroys my emotion
Avoid causing love in me decease
Because real adoration does not lie
Lies are natural love exterminators
Accurate love also agonises lies
Love is a human’s pure virtue
Shun making love in me dry out
For fondness is man’s great tribute
That makes him stronger
For he wants to eschew lies
And so nurture eternal love
Poem by Mugisho N Theophile
To claim more imperialist Russian land.
An invasion of a neighbor was planned.
Unbacked slander was said about them.
Creating for the world a major problem.
Putin claimed they were a pro-Nazi harbor.
But the truth really couldn’t be any farther.
Ukrainians have always been their target.
The Holodomor is a genocide not to forget.
Between wars one and two, Joseph Stalin
orchestrated the starvation for many fallen.
To feed communism, millions were deprived.
The empty breadbasket for Europe arrived.
So generations later the bully is back.
But now other countries cut no slack.
While they attack innocent civilians.
It’s obvious they are truly the villains.
Destroying homes and those trapped inside.
Soldiers with unjust orders forced to abide.
Attacking neighborhoods of peaceful kids.
Willing exterminators as the Kremlin bids.
But their target shoots back and hits hard.
The fighter won the crowd on the undercard.
Like a hard uppercut from Mayor Kltichko.
The Ukrainian’s counterpunch is on show.
The other Vladimir is a modern David.
Daily turning the Russian Goliath livid.
Shoring up defenses as the underdog.
Battling through heavy gunpowder fog.
Swaying global leaders to invest in defense.
Convincing nations Soviets make no sense.
In this invasion, the bully is being repelled.
As global Ukrainian patriotism has swelled.
Depleting the Russian tanks by the hundred.
Forcing civilian involuntary enlistment dread.
Fleeing their nation to avoid an early death.
As troops are rushed into their final breath.
Unprepared to invade into mortal combat.
Putin’s propaganda machine caused that.
Forcing battles soldiers don’t want to fight.
Knowing the motives for war are not right.
Nations give Ukraine billions in military aid.
Causing global inflation to devalue our paid.
So we cut jobs with layoffs for bottom lines.
To fund fatal battles in forests full of pines.
Here’s to the doormen,
The porters, the waiters,
The plumbers, the cabbies,
The exterminators…
Here’s to the teachers,
The nannies, the nurses,
Performers and artists
And writers of verses…
Here’s to the athletes,
The mailmen, reporters,
The chefs and the police force
And climate supporters…
Here’s to the builders
And tour guides and cleaners
And research assistants
And medical screeners…
Here’s to repairmen
And bakers and drivers
And farmers and shepherds
And all of the strivers
Who put in the effort,
Most times, to the letter,
To help make our lives
(And their own) so much better.
Conversation today took a competitive turn.
My daughter we saying she should clean something.
I talked her out of it, she only has so many hours off a week.
Why do something you don’t want to do?
She tells me that she has a mess on the floor that has been there for hours.
I tell her about my paint brushes I spilled on my art studio floor.
I walked over them and broke them so I ordered more.
How long have they been there? She asks.
Three, maybe six months.
I have candy bar wrappers under my bed, she confides.
We have canned goods under the bed dated 1997, I tell her.
I spilled pop on the carpet and left it there a week ago, she says.
Competition in flat out full mode now.
I have a family of raccoons living in my car.
By now we are laughing, getting some fun out of it.
The exterminators came In here last week and said “OOOHHHHH!” She tells me.
Our mice are running up with garbage, asking that we please use the trash cans,
I reply.
Thanks Mom, she says. “I guess I do not have to clean yet.”