Long Fiasco Poems
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Disguised as an Apple Computer Technician.
He initially hacked Macbook Pro laptop.
He (alias Harvey Specter)
planted seeds of suspicion
that criminal activity prevailed
within my geographic area in general
or questionable individuals
lurked within or without
Citizens Bank in particular,
and suggested yours truly (me)
to be wary about
over friendly employees
at aforementioned capital one
storied financial institution.
Said gonif (pulled a masterful subterfuge)
inveigling yours truly to carry out heist
of the twenty first century
against his honest good n plenti resources
(subsequently checking and
savings accounts severely depleted).
The invisible webbed wide whirled net
ensnared me lock, stock and barrel.
Little did I know
the spellbinding impact
until the dirty deed done dirt cheap
found writer of these words
figuratively holding the empty bag
where I got forced to trod
analogous highway to hell
courtesy diabolical, inimical, satanical...
devil may care disguised cozener
who wove believable scenario
claiming Citizens Bank employees
involved in suspicious conspiracy
to siphon off hard earned bucks.
I submissively consented
to participate and cavalierly disperse
freshly minted Benjamins
suddenly linkedin
chain of events
rocketing, kickstarting, and experiencing
a worse horror than death
mortified at being bushwhacked.
The feeble explanation, justification,
qua obliteration, ululation
trumped with lame excuse
yours truly not in his right mind.
Mind control, (albeit remotely)
assassinated rationality while hypnotically
feeling commanded, governed,
née kid lee killed
mine esprit de corps
among kith and kin
consigning thrifty troubadour
to the depths of despair
wishing termination of existence
in tandem with damnation, interrogation,
penalization, et cetera of nasty brute.
After series of unfortunate events brought,
where innocence and naïveté caught
teetotaler tempted to drink deadly draught
of top quality hemlock sold
at many bustling entrepôt
cuz now existence fraught
with torturous quaking
nauseating, kickstarting hatred
of self, thus restitution
of funds sought
by folks willing bestow largesse.
If yes check out (fiasco from fraudsters
frazzles father)
legitimate platform
where charitable people swarm
and toys are sold.
Eldest daughter – I Praise
Twenty two years ago
December twenty second,
two thousand eighteen
"star student" born
this papa (and most
likely thee birth mother)
initially felt ecstatic,
dramatic (yes frenetic),
and careworn
as freshly minted parents,
but gifted with a daughter,
whose existence far
more precious
than any Earthborn
rare widgets, gewgaws,
gems, et cetera, despite
evoking unsolicited,
unpleasant, and
unmanageable forlorn
communication "dirt poor"
living (at least ten years
of wretchedness at 1148
Greentree Lane) unable
to toot your horn,
cuz unbearable, undesirable,
unforgettable, et cetera,
and manifold challenged ,
when beloved Shana
Punim evinced inborn
developmental delay,
(which severe electric
koolaid acid test
patience of this father),
much more difficult
than playing krummhorn,
now after tendering the trials
and tribulations, an
amalgamation of
poignant affects,
whereat your
permanent presence...
(must never NOT precede mine),
cuz..., I would definitely mourn,
your absence, thus felt the timely
opportunity to dash off
a birthday poem to you
in tandem with sharing,
(while comfortably numb
and figuratively licking war
torn psychological wombs) - torn
and ripped, queued,
peppered natty psyche
pockmarked with scorn
from self, (and those lives,
this dada immediately
impacted) particularly
your person roar'n
with cumulative anger toward
this insightful fellow,
(who claims to know
what thee feel toward me),
especially when ****
hours of valuable
time, now caught
(say, eh...approximately, fraught
upon the half life of rare Earth
element Eden), not
just strictly naught
heard thru the grapevine,
but forcing Math (hew)
analysis, via meditation, poetry
writing therapy, et cetera.
Hence...I apologize,
asper unasked for pain wrought
thee, sans being unemployed,
demeaning "mother Abby,"
bumbling, horrid house
keeper (Hagrid himself,
would turn down invitation),
plus Facebook fiasco,
imbroglio, and locomotive -
complicit in behavior
comparable to pedophile,
yet please let me conclude
by admitting total lack
of wherewithal.
HAPPY BIRTHDAY DEAR DAUGHTER!
WWII has been over for 66 years &
for some reason those responsible for the production of captain america: the first avenger
think that now is a good time to bring back a douche bag
who was originally called “super american”
by his creator, joe simon
(an obviously generic label amongst all the other “super” heroes that was even too much
for the morons at marvel to run with),
& so the captain was born
because
“there weren’t a lot of captains” in comics.
originally this super american punched
hitler in the face & sold almost a million
copies when that first march 1941 issue
hit the newsstands,
capitalizing on a war fervor that was
explosive in the US before pearl harbor had
even been attacked---
super american & his sidekick “bucky” went
on to fight more nazis & the japanese until
bucky died & was replace by “betsy ross,”
the super american’s fbi agent girlfriend---
modeled on the woman who is said to have
sewn the first american flag, betsy did not revive
the dying series,
mainly because the nationalism that was burning bright
during “the great war”
had burnt out during the cold war period &
so the captain & his flag sewing girlfriend ended up
ceasing after 75 issues,
by which time the whole fiasco had been retitled
captain america’s weird tales---
such justice doesn’t happen often,
it is a shame that it took 75 issues to bring it
about.
now that this new film is about to be release out into the world,
given the state of america’s wonderful reputation
(a bit different than in 1941) as the world’s policeman
who stops at nothing to rape this planet of its natural resources,
squeezing every last drop into its own mouth,
one might wonder how the producers of this film expected to
bring in a dime---
isn’t it bad enough that bombs, troops & drones are storming into
other countries?
now we have to throw it up on the silver screen as well?
it turns out that the film’s title is to be changed for release in
russia, south korea & the ukraine
to only the first avenger.
just what exactly is this super american avenging now?
it seems that now the big
bad
boogeyman
is
us & if there was anyone to be
avenged,
it would be
those that we have stomped on,
those that we continue to stomp on &
those
who we plan on stomping on in the future.
waved away from certain topics
Yolanda and her Singing Saw blade
captured the intellectual integrity
of a generation in readjustment
freedom springs only from freedom kids
so lock your shields and set your pikes
and whatever else unmasks the poseurs
making mischief upon civilization
with zero police penetration
weighed and calibrated by the
by the US Bureau of Insanity
warned by the masked men at Masked Men U.
we'll find out if your daddy raised a fool
putting on a carefree face
clinging to childhood like a lost puppy
once again it's political suicide everywhere
the archetypes are tramping
through my head like Hitlerjugen
convulsed in the Little Death championship
strutting and hooting for a mate
will today's monster be tomorrow's arbiter of grace
Godzilla was eventually tamed was he not
he now does handyman work
and can come around some time
and get that squeak out of your door
that feudal ignorance and superstition
start with whatever impedes your mind
laughter will watch your back
cognition is a word game
rally and carry the colors with insolence
like a glowing catalytic converter
streaking across the endless night
distant from instinct like a horizon
illuminating a physics of the psyche
alive with maladapted ardor
like a dynasty of serial plagiarists
what then exactly is attention
news flash we are way past neolithic
up where the power meets the grid
if your point of observation is outlawed
only the involuntary spasms will remain
and a persistent mania for theology
to be dissected like laboratory toads
and poked with battery wires
where pickpockets with scissors
leave your pants a bit breezy
while clicking the mouse button of God
in a well orchestrated decoy fiasco
a talent show for the inept
tonight we have a knockout lineup
with lots of orange explosions
horrendous vs. hellacious
mastodon hair from the freezer
slapped on the bald spots
by a rapidly wilting imagination
strumming its ukelele in a hammock
burnt to a crisp in a flaming car wash
his soul finally attained its freedom
such as it was soot and ashes by then
From "Engine of Didactic Beauty" available on Amazon
Artist Portfolio: http://walteralter.byethost32.com/
Growing up in care I never had my family by my side
I was damaged and lost as a child
Hood up to hide my face and I would never smile
But Hip Hop saved my life
Heard the Marshall Mathers LP when I was 8 years old
I only understood the swearing and was too young to compare flows
But I was enticed by it and instantly became a fan
I became such a big fan of Marshall, My parents should have named me Stan
I was already a fan of Tupac, Em, 50, G-Unit, Xzibit and the main big rappers
But as soon as I became 13 my life wouldn't be the same after
Let me talk about the album that made me fall in love with Hip-Hop
I hadn't heard of him, but brought the Documentary by the game at my local CD shop
I played it from start to finish, and loved every song
It was from that moment, I knew hip hop was the place I belonged
Hip-Hop gave me a feeling I didn't know, as I'd never known love
Age 14 I went and studied, Rakim, Nas, Big Pun, Big L, and Bone thugs
Ebonics by Big L will teach you about the slang
Mobb deep taught me there's no such thing as halfway crooks
I love Hip-Hop too much to become a slave in Nas's rhyme book
Hip-hop was in my blood, because i share the same birthday as Method man from wu tang
They grew up on the crime side
I went back and studied wu tang to get my rhymes right
N.W.A are the most important Hip-Hop group of all time
You won't understand lyrics by Nas and Lupe Fiasco if you have a small mind
All day, every day I had Hip-Hop playing
Half the time I didn't have a clue what Twista was saying
Scarface Should be given a lot more credit and respect
When it comes to storytelling, Masta ace and Slick Rick are 2 of the best
No DMX slander shall ever prosper in my presence
Eazy E, Pac, Biggie, Left eye, Soulja Slim, Proof, just paying tribute to some fallen Hip-Hop legends
Crooked I, Charles Hamilton, and Cassidy are the freestyle kings on the Mic
Jadakiss has never spit a bad verse in his life
But Styles P is the best member of the Lox
I'll never love anyone as much as I love Hip-Hop
I have a lot more to say, but I'll save that for another write
I'll always be thankful because Hip-Hop saved my life
Mister money bags no more
Ah..., how I idolize the days of yore
before June twentieth, and twenty first
two thousand twenty three
when utter senselessness wore,
a trail of woe brutally
ravaging and savaging mine psyche,
yours truly attests gullibility tore
and rent asunder
leaving cumulative finances
decimated, pulverized, and frankly zapped
rendering me poor
as a Unitarian church mouse named Kishore
dirty deed done dirt cheap extempore
courtesy yours oblivious to "red flags."
I still bitterly lament how
the computer/scammer
who called himself "Harvey Specter"
exhibited exceptional faux zeal
and blame myself,
whereby figurative cog and wheel
within sixty plus shades
housing mine gray matter
did not properly turn
ordinarily (when perspicacity,
sensitivity, and acuity optimally function)
setting off an ear splitting squeal
loud enough to rouse
a sleeping Leviathan
when upon awakening would bellow
now cue the giant
from Jack and the beanstalk
Fee-fi-fo-fum!
I smell the blood
of an Englishman:
Be he alive, or be he dead,
I'll grind his bones to make my bread.
Nevertheless significant loss
viz medium of exchange
(enriching the coffers of another -
particularly him that scoundrel
née fraudster foisting financial fiasco
frazzling father most definitely nonideal
modus operandi I envisioned,
hence the gofundme page
(ofttimes sited with
gentility, honesty, integrity...
when crafting previous poems),
yet passage of time did not heal
severe financial hemorrhage,
keeping checking and savings accounts
analogously under critical care
(think intensive care),
whereby heroic measures undertaken
wads of cold cash linkedin
to many intravenous tubes
but ideally capitol offense
aired once again toward remuneration
imposed upon ganef
who bled me dry
courtesy convincingly, glibly, liberally...
sweet talking his way,
and I swallowed hook, line and sinker
(fabrication that Citizens bank employees
scheming to siphon investments)
yielded zilch (the big goose egg),
absolute zero positive result,
i.e. even partial remittance of lost monies,
when yours truly did make an appeal.
As I rounded the hill
Face to face with the still
That I'd only heard rumors spoke of
With no one around
I sat myself down
And proceeded to sample the stuff
As sweet as honeydew melon
Got my feet to a geling
Made me feel like I did in my youth
Sat with a dumb gaze for a while
Then got the biggest of smiles
When it came to me what I should do
So I went with my plan
And opened a stand
Right there on the mountain side
When word in the forest got out
I never had any doubt
That all of the critters would be stoping by
You should have seen them all guzzle
As the squirrels ordered doubles
Then proceeded to tell wild nutty lies
It was quite the fiasco
When they brought out the cowboy hats and lasso's
As the party went well into the night
They paid in nuts and berries
Which was fine by me
With them I made different flavors of shine
In flavors I made 32
So I wouldn't get sued
By Baskin-Robbins who has 31 at this time
From all the flavors I made
Boysenberry was the fav
The raccoons made up a dance called the boysenberry crawl
Which was a big hit
At the discotheque
The beavers built in the early fall
We made a deal
I would sell them my swill
For a little piece of the pie
We were all getting rich
I have to admit
It's quite the relationship, the beavers and I
Of course the beavers got greedy
You know how beavers are needy
Couldn't leave well enough alone
Figured they had the right
Who's going to pay for these lights
That make this the best disco in town
They started charging a cover
Which didn't go over
As well as they would have liked
Plus they doubled the price of the booze
Which left little food
On the woodland creatures tables at night
Things went from bad to worse
When they started to curse
Me, "The Man" for the troubles they had
I barely made it out alive
By the skin of my hide
When I packed and hit the road mighty fast
Things had been going so well
Before it all went to hell
And me and my still were forced to leave
Now still to this day
You know why I always say
That famous line, passed down in time
"Leave it to Beav"
Seventeen thousand special K
vanished into thin air
in one fell swoop life savings
fraudulent fiend did clear
yours truly duped
courtesy scammer with consummate flair
rowdies in peanut gallery doth jeer
raucous insult to injury outware
any remaining shred,
where peace of mind concerned
unraveling threads feeling victimized
Harvey Specter's lobbed hand grenades
fractured, exploded, destroyed... psyche
how mean spirited and unfair.
Amidst din in noggin
analogous to tower of Babel
meaningless mysterious cable
enclosed holding key
to deliver remuneration
bringing tears of joy
and Hollywood ending
to torturous surreal fable
decrypted applying
following conversion table
7.15 6.21.14.4 13.5
fiasco from fraudster
(fiendish) frazzles father
would elicit flickering salvation.
I still haint reckoned with reality
and shake me head in disbelief
mourning forsaken legal tender
while yours truly merrily
strolling along information superhighway
unexpected encountering grief
sorely missing nest egg
linkedin with devilish scheme hatched
when computer hacker
impersonating Apple technician
lured me into a virtual net.
He (who spoke
with a clipped English affect)
his trust earned,
though no questions I asked him,
thus never double checked
truthfulness of authenticity
regarding his being credentialed
by Apple Computer Company
only after the fact painfully learning
checking and savings accounts wrecked.
Expertise with fleecing
sheepish folks like me
most likely found him laughing
all the way to the bank
donning poised demeanor ernest and frank
allowed, enabled, and provided
being emboldened, empowered
to pull off heist,
which legerdemain possibly refined
playing many a boyhood prank
pull the wool over my eyes
and extracting legal tender
he slyly, knowingly,
and deftly did yank
key personal information
compromising willpower to remain alive,
whereat suicidal ideation
(via prescription medication overdose)
teases as modus operandi to escape
death by a thousand cuts
unsure how I can weather insolvency,
a bitter battle to survive
and bear witness to monies thrive.
At high noontime, the tires are burning in the streets
The sound of barking dogs is everywhere; the cats of hell smell
Like never showered rats who are locked up in death row cells
Where the air does not go through sealed windows
No, my friends, I'm not dreaming; it’s a nightmare. The sun
Is warming the pavement and the worms are coming out
En masse. The ravines are crowded with small children
That I could never imagined or seen with clear and open eyes
From such a bizarre, awkward, frantic and satanic scene
They’re talking about revolution, that sounds spooky and crazy
Because we must talk about kindness, evolution, education
Before contemplating such a magical or drastic motion
Everything is aflame. The palace is on fire and the buildings
Are red, inflamed. Oh! Yes, it is a total and capital fiasco
All of this is to show the wickedness of the vile jackals
The wild beasts which enjoy killing daughters and sons
At noon, in daylight, the malefactors have no shame to hate
Loot and burn everything they could neither imagined, nor created
And built. These werewolves come from nowhere, from the wars
Of hell, we wonder. We only know that we can't afford to live where
Vile and wild animals can easily seize the streets manu militari
For any new extenuating excuses, pretexts or fabricated reasons
Where are the technocrats and the intellectuals of the past?
A thin and weak voice coming from nowhere replied cowardly:
They are all hidden or incarcerated in coffers infested with lice
This explains why the werewolves are waltzing in the dusty streets
In mid-afternoon where high priests and high pastors walk on bridges
In ruins and normal toddlers no longer go to church. How awful, the pigs
Are well dressed, during the rainstorm, where the contaminated air
Escapes and embalms the disconcertedly distressed firmament
What misery for a group of goons who are equally surly and jubilant!
Copyright © March 2020, Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved.
Hébert Logerie is the author of several collections of poems.
This is a translation of the poem 'La Valse Des Loups-Garous'
by Hébert Logerie
“Rainy day, dream away
Ah let the sun take a holiday
Flowers bathe an' ah see the children play
Lay back and groove on a rainy day”
Jimi Hendrix 1968
A weep at first
to cure a thirst
becomes a cloud bursts fray
the earth sips deep
of questionings glyphs
a mind soon returns to
youthful puddle playing daze
the dream’ intend is
for a drought to end
a return to stationary and
normal weather ways
the clouds return, the
soil stops burning a relief
is provided by providence or
bye chance one’s yearnings
the grifting natures; of humanity
in a “Three Card Monty” played
a slight of hand does so stand
against the awe of simpler times
the rain now comes
with the gusting winds
a bind to bond twined powers play
into a more potent and fearsome slam
the hours pass, the rain at last
becomes that three in one parley
a rage, a warn, a worry;
uncompromisingly formed
the banks of clouds
as the banks becloud
a swirling weather pool
of raging flood potential
the water falls
like the “Bridal Veil”
a most profoundly fear filled sight
especially at late snow thaw’s height
the imaginations reared
by a downpour’ tears
a Heaven scent or Hell is
on, in an unrelenting pain
the mix of these
astounds one’s ease
a lament; for in pain
is drinking water gained
the odds are indeed
and in an oddity
a tit-for-tat; “the good
for bad, gets ugly”
the rain, a pleasure’ sheen or
on this day death and wet demons
a fiasco; living’ fresco; an echo
slimmed or splendored
the conflict bred of want
or life’s simple needs
a gift in sweetness given, or a
warning from the highest Heavens
the rain; without, no doubts, we die;
no other options are given
a thought therefore
proves necessarily necessary
the truth is a daze
our world is ablaze
a rainy daze redemption’s
bless is daringly caring
the source from which
these blessings flow
a Heavenly respite; a gift
this day and night
the result therefore
is thinking’s cower
a reaction to reaction’;
its time for profound reflections
fore the daze to come, have all
“passed as this; so many times before”.