Long Livers Poems
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Roman priests practiced divination
as a means of prophesying the future
they'd plunge a dagger into a temple dove
and eviscerate the living bird.
Then they'd examine the entrails,
especially their livers, for omens,
believing that the Gods would reveal what was
going to occur in the immediate future through such signs.
These readings would both bewilder and fascinate the curious
onlookers, when the augurs would raise their scarlet hands
and announce their awaited predictions.
The remaining doves would get released in a whirling mass
forming a vortex of flapping wings and feathers,
their direction of flight
also an indicator of divine communication.
Nobles would often bribe augurs for favorable predictions
to inspire their soldiers before battle.
These divinations were taken very seriously in ancient times.
It's said that Julius Caesar's death was prophesied by augurs,
and Caesar's adversary, Senator Cato, committed suicide
after he received an unfavorable reading.
(Free Verse)
6/16/2018
Of WHAT USE ARE FINGERS TO HANDS THAT ONLY UNDERSTAND MITTENS
I have a bunion and an ingrown toe nail;
I’m a blind man wearing glasses and I can’t find them;
My hair is so short that I am bald;
My spine so straight I am tall;
I have a four year old who keeps shaking his fist at his sister;
And it’s cold and snowing my question is;
Of what use are fingers to hands that only understand mittens;
And what’s the use in cooking dinner in the kitchen;
When we don’t know how to fry chicken livers;
12/17/22 2022©
For Of What Use Are Gloves to Fingers That Only Understand Mittens Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: John lawless
We cowardly witnessed the genocide of many human beings
Live, live, live in real time
That was an odious, callous and vicious crime
We said nothing, absolutely nothing about the sad and awful events
Many of us were either silent or complacent about everything
Even God was absent and quiet. He did nothing, nothing
Evil doers are not humane; they are hardcore criminals
We witnessed the bombings of babies, buildings and animals
We saw the massacres and the aftermaths. We could smell the blood
And could hear the cries coming out of the television screens
We saw the live and dead bodies, the hearts, the livers and the spleens
Rotting and spoiling in the filthy streets. The color of the mud
Is grim and abnormal, because of too much sufferings and tears
Too much pain and misery, too much disgust and shame
Too much atrocities and killings. We all know whom to blame
We know who are responsible for so much evilness and wrongdoings
Humanity got thrown out of the window in this part of the universe
We wonder if these two legged machines have a heart and a soul
We wonder if they ever look in a mirror, in a clear pool
We wonder how it would be if everything were to happen in reverse
Where is God? Why this ignominious silence?
Live, live, live in real time
That’s an odious, egregious and beastly crime
How can anybody sleep at night? That makes no sense
These days, everything is live, eerie, vivid and instantaneous
Grotesque things are never acceptable, admissible and hilarious
We want peace and we dream of peace
But the guilty ones must pay from west to east
And from north to south. We want peace and justice.
P.S. This poem is dedicated to Love, Peace, Equality and Justice.
Copyright © June 2025 Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved
Hébert Logerie is the author of several books of poetry.
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444444 equals 24 trotters
6 heads
4 livers
4 hearts
6 kidneys
2 hams
Various scraps
5 hour boil time
Onions
Carrots
Greenpeppers
Garlic
Thyme
Basil
Bayleaves
2 cups of port
Rubbed sage
Salt
Pepper
_______________________________________________
Brunch Day
Sunday morning scrapple/ bacon and mushrooms
Scrambled eggs and cheese
Toast/butter and honey
Hash browns
Jam/jelly
Coffee
Beet, carrot,orange/vodka
Strawberry tart
Butternut squash tart/pecans
_____________________________________
______________________________________
Darling I may never have told you
Ain't nothing right without you
You're the star of the show
My leading lady
Keeping you happy ain't no chore
I love you
I guess I wanted you to know
Sometimes I get a little busy
we spend so much time apart
here a little something to make you smile
It comes straight from my heart
Said I love you
Ain't got no problems saying it again
_____________________________________________
Cured salmon rolled in sliced ham with sour cream eggyolk and dill....
5 cups of cooked rice
1 &1/2 cup of diced polish sausage
1 cup of poached chicken livers crumbled (poached in 1/2 white wine)
3/4 cups of diced onion
1/2 diced celery
1/2 diced green bell pepper
3 tablespoons of crushed garlic
3 tablespoons of red bell pepper
3 tablespoons of fish stock
4 tablespoons of olive oil
1 cup of red beans
2 tablespoons of toasted sesame seeds
1 & 1/2 cups of chicken gravy
Sautee veggies in olive oil( onions, garlic ,celery, red peppers),, add sausage and livers add fish stock and red pepper flakes, adjust seasoning, add gravy stir, add the red beans, and top with sesame seeds !
SNUGGLE WUGGLE
kissy love
so the nights
shall be with you
you and I
just you and me
the way it use to be
spend sometime
just loving
just you and I
just you and me
snuggle wuggle
kissy love
sweetheart I love you
sweetheart I care
sweetheart
kiss me
let use sit here
like the ole times
when you
and I had just begun
together, together
you and I
as one !
new York, new York
2 New York Strips (patted dry)
1 teaspoon of garlic powder
1 teaspoon of salt
1 teaspoon of pepper
3 tablespoons of olive oil
2 tablespoons of butter
in a casted iron skillet
(preheated)
add oil, and butter
sprinkle seasoning to all sides of the steaks
place steaks in oil, and sear one side to a crisp sear,
turn and do the same to the other side, ( about 4 & 1/2 minutes on each side)
place in a preheated oven for 15 minutes about medium , and remove
and slather with butter and serve with the rice and beans.
Winky and the Kisser
1 cup of grape juice
1 cup of lemon juice
1/4 cup of apricot brandy
3 cups of sweet wine (red)
serve cold, with strawberry's
Worm mutton cottage fries made without oil, ants on chocolate toast,
Bread made of almonds, and healthy carrot-laden Robin egg soup.
Vegetarian sandwiches lavishly sprinkled with the most
Delightful new organic spinach that makes you rapidly poop.
All of these delightful-sounding greens and wholesome delights, that you so adore.
Do not make me or my family want to come back for any extra or more.
Yes, I know you have cheese-free pizza, and cake without flour.
But we like mashed potatoes, and dressing, not things that sound dour.
Next Wednesday you say, you are trying meatless, but tasty livers squash stew?
Come try it you say? It is tasty, already made and will be good for both me and you?
It sounds yummy and delightful, I will ask my husband and the rest of my crew.
Sorry. We are extremely busy; the bathroom a week ago ran out of shampoo.
Gall stones large as hens’ eggs,
pale kidneys buoyant as seabirds.
Shriveled livers,
yet some so bloated they have features
as if the organ had drowned
imprinted by a sleeping face.
A fetus floating in a deeper space than
can be calculated by light years.
There is less purpose in preserving
the anatomy of death now.
The carnival wagons have gone away,
the fish-man in his tank;
the tuberous lungs of the malformed
free now from any glassy ogle.
However, in the medical museum
bottled body parts still wait
in their mason jars
for a hand to commence
death's long-prophesied unscrewing.
The angst comes with a grip...
Strapped to the shaft of my silver gun,
it shines on my runs,
I like to eat when I kill
because killing isn't fun,
just like when swimming underwater satisfies the sun,
coming up again gives ya the bump,
seeing the daylight once again-
feeling that heat like a Mexican,
when thinking of blessings and
the rest of the world in a big bubble with smoke and glitter-
the regular people have splinters-
they are livers...
But need help,
because the first world acts bitter.
I will never show how much fitter anybody could be if bid come ta hither,
if one were to become prisoner,
and needed time like listeners...
The the smallest of us all,
hearing the most,
and breathing the boast...
Coming again and again,
needing nothing but stories of kin,
people they love being here for them,
and so can be you...
Just don't ever say shoe,
and they will hear you!
Jump up and do,
because the rest of the world says wait to choose.
In the spirals of our ancient code lie secrets
No pill boasts on its glossy label:
We are the cradle of the human genome,
Yet our maps remain blank in global trials.
Test tubes filled with our diaspora’s pulse
Are left untouched—ignored by profit’s design.
Prescription after prescription fails us,
Side by side with miracles elsewhere.
Tell me, Western pharmacopeia,
Why ship drugs proven blind to our cells?
Why let our hearts suffer, our livers wear thin,
While your profit margins bloom?
This is not science—it’s a crime cloaked in white coats,
A quiet genocide as lethal as any missile.
Colonial bias got a new skin—it wears lab coats now,
And it bleeds through African veins still uncounted.
To the leaders in ivory towers of a broken state:
Your silences echo louder than your oaths.
You sold your people’s trust
For crumbs from foreign tables.
But we—the children of a thousand tribes—
We are rising not in whispers, but in fire.
Your puppetry ends where our voices begin:
We will build our industries, staff our labs,
And chart every strand of our DNA.
Pharma’s blood stained on our histories,
Indicted by our silence no longer.
We demand justice, recall every flawed pill,
And rewrite the code of care in our own image.
For if medicine cannot learn our language,
Then it shall learn our resistance:
Made in Africa, by Africans, for Africans—
No more sacrifices for their sterile profit.
Gall stones large as hens’ eggs,
pale kidneys buoyant as seabirds.
Shriveled livers,
yet some so bloated they have features
as if the organ had drowned
imprinted by a sleeping face.
A fetus floating in a deeper space than
can be calculated by light years.
There is less purpose in preserving
the anatomy of death now.
The carnival wagons have gone away,
the fish-man in his tank;
the tuberous lungs of the malformed
free now from any glassy ogle.
However, in the medical museum
bottled body parts still wait
in their mason jars
for a hand to commence
death's long-prophesied unscrewing.