Long Propaganda Poems
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Repost of a POTD
5/12/ 202i
With needed changes …poet’s option.
Dedication to the late poetess, Connie Marcum Wong.
We miss you, Connie! Your humility and kindness are
a reminder to us, that life is greater than about being
a “winner.”
Love, Panagiota
Happy are we, who love the beauty of all things.
Who stand for the beauty of a newborn child.
We, who have soft, invisible, angelic,wings.
Those who believe in God, not in Satan’s world, gone wild.
We are surrounded by the media’s outlandish, propaganda lies.
That as we walk this earth, there is a mix of bitter laughter and dirth.
Remember thee, indeed well,what God said, “ Vengeance is mine!.”
And each of us, destined to die, under the earth to lie in darkness and dirth.
Pompous and righteous, of our sins,,we live in most indignant denial!
We who lie, we seek only personal, fame and all others on earth,defame?
All of us are so perfect, on our iPhones~we who constantly dial…
While slaughter in the thousands just occurred, and we give it no name?
Remember, do not any leader of any country, as a god, do adore!
Only one man, His life, offered and died to save the world.
I see this in poetry, waving palms, shouting Hosanna, to humans galore!
Ignoring our poetic brothers, left behind, in our self-righteous, vanity.swirl.
every detective tells me differently the same
every respective elder tells me the same differently
who should i believe but Him who is Mistake Free
investigating the prints of my life with an earthling opinionated but oblivious
reestimating the dints of each period unfinished and so brief and unrecognizable
not realizing the propaganda that printed is actually so dreadfully fragmented
another lifetime ago i asked a reader in whose arms shall i die in
now more deeply in growth i choose life because life tastes like a properly made cookie shake
the Magnifying Glass embraces the Hourglass and perfectly matches my Ebb and Flow for Clearer Vision
For crying out loud
Due to the outcome
I was not particularly proud
For more than two centuries, election days go and come
At a similar season, every four years
This time, there were plenty of wows and tears
Of disappointment, heartbreak, anger, anxiety and sadness
And the other half was full of glee or happiness
Such is life. Politics is a dirty and unpredictable animal
No, America did not die. Things are normal
We’re still talking about immigration, liberty
Freedom of speech, and of course the economy
We’re hoping that everything will be better
America has been great for a long time, forever
It’s redundant to add ‘again’ to the propaganda
Yes, America did not drown or die in the middle of the political saga
In the wrath of the hurricanes or in the deadly spillover of the rivers
Where the two parties fought fiercely like two hale tigers
America is an immensely prosperous country
Ignore the false promotional and advertising slogan
America is a huge market with a very rich economy
Ignore the wacky and delusional politicians and Élon
Tigers, lions, jaguars and hyenas are fighting and vying
For their portion or stomach. It is a new political spring
In November. America will not die, on the contrary
We pray, hope and dream to see a better country.
Copyright © November 2024, Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved.
Hébert Logerie is the author of numerous collections of poetry.
the soul
The verb soul often appears in literature
and has its outpouring in religious thinking
But is there a soul independent of the body
if so, who does it belong to?
when we of an older generation went to school
bible-classes were important
our teacher said when we did something
we should not,
it was the soul telling us we were wrong
This was tricky and had to do with respect
for teachers and authority and was clearly
meant for us to behave the way the adults
thought was sensible
The easy way for many is to say there is not
such a thing as a soul
if so, is consciousness a thing only humans
have, while animals live by instinct?
When we read books, we find, in literature
many references to religions
We can't escape its influence, but is it right
or another propaganda ploy by those
who want us to see the world their way
If body and soul are two different entities
what happens to the soul?
do the souls free of our bodies float in
the great, infinity in a meaningless forever
Yet, within us, there is consciousness, we
know when we make an error of judgment
this is our mind talking to us
for those who do not feel guilt, we call
psychopaths, ergo, being without a soul.
Friend,
Tell me no more...
Tell me no more about trust,
For trust is a barren risk,
A naked wire,
With no remorse or warranty
Tell me not about truth,
For truth has become a figment of imagination...
Truth has become propaganda, slander and mobbing
Tell me not about justice,
Justice have become solstice
Friend,
Tell me no more...
Tell me no more...
Tell me not about conscience,
For it is more than an open wound
Tell me not about decorum
What we have is audacity
Tell me not about knighthood,
What we have is dishonor
Friend,
Tell me not about meritocracy,
What we have is kleptocracy
Tell me not about love,
For love is cash and carry
My friend,
Tell me not about pain,
For without pain,
There is absolutely no gain
Singers and dancers,
artists and writers,
philosophers and poets,
academics and health professionals,
parents and teachers,
actors and contemplatives,
grandparents and children,
live and die between Heaven and Hell.
Between Heaven's interdependent sensory Enlightenment
and Hell's individual secularized Industrious-Militant Revolutions
Pathology and sin result from severing healthy spiritual tools
for development
from degenerative denatured fake-wealth weapons
for destruction.
Heaven's tools restore peace
where re-tooled weapons
without divine mercy
redistribute Hell's sure-fire punishments.
Sacred tools,
like bicameral hearted minds,
were
and are
for hunting,
gathering
harvesting
cooking
serving
cleaning
recycling
composting
regathering,
impressing
not trangressing,
health-restoring FuturePowers.
Weapons were
and are
for killing
threatening
hating
condemning
judging
repressing
depressing
suppressing wealthy MultiGenerational Matriarchal FlowCycles.
Technological tools,
post industrial,
have evolved from
WorldWideWebs of Heaven
for cooperative social health information
Too often devolved into propaganda weapons
against WorldWideWalls for self-ghettoizing Hell
promulgating competitive anti-social disinformation.
Sacred tools, verbal and non-verbal,
derive from
and help build
heart-paths toward progressive liberties in love
and conserving equitable and responsible compassions.
Secularized weapons
contrive from
and help destroy
other paranoid
rabidly bipolar
mind pathologies.
Sacred tools serve immortal life.
Secular weapons serve up violent death.
Just as word choice
is the smallest detail
of communal win/win communication,
Weapon choice is the smallest
and also least cognitively wealthy, part
of commercial and residential conscious win/win choice-making
well-tooled
politically healthy
true-wealth conserving co-investment,
Articulating
incarnating
re-creating
sacred life evolving in-between
LeftBrain's ideas of Heaven
and RightBrain's experiences of lose/lose Hell.
“What is this strange place we find ourselves in
Trapped in the open, we are free within” -- Unseeking Seeker
Everything is interconnected
If you may call it the New World Order
Loosely coupled
Like earth, wind, fire and water
Is it good or is it bad
Illuminati, mafia and gangs
They use the number 66 for fear
With propaganda as their fangs
This silent army rules the world
and all of us are strangely affected
Do we have the freedom to right these wrongs
Or are we just eggs, forever nested
Human rights, world peace, free speech
Let's ring the bell so blessings are done
Tuesday, March 29, 2022
The Matrix Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Unseeking Seeker
Social influence that influence ones belief and behavior,
being the sheep idiom in suit of group as inferior identity savior.
Compliances and obedience for the hero or nymph resort,
names and numbers as taste for pleasure of the court.
Instructive expectations in order to avoid looking foolish,
becoming strong in unity of the mass psychology bliss.
Procrastinations to adhere to moral obligation,
bringing out the darkest impulse to justify that situation.
Large scale atrocities for the greater good as ideal,
manipulated propaganda consequence imperial.
The change in response to pressure of social norms,
ethical values in humanity political deforms.
The mediocrity of conformity and its karmic hungry judges,
sentence wretches in time by individual budges.
The mental mill keeps on turning with the wind,
where fiery spirits blaze by gravity and its many scent.
The revolution not out there in golden words brocade,
freeing oneself from controlling theories need to be displayed.
Being infinitely pliable defines the space to be responsible,
and the soul of the world will give ones everything possible.
If I Was a Seagull
If I was a seagull
I wouldn’t have a bank account
I wouldn’t watch misery on TV
No concerns about the economy
Prices rising constantly.
I’d have my own nest
And wouldn’t need to upgrade
Or downsize. My kids would
Leave home naturally.
I’d find enough to eat everyday
I wouldn’t gorge and put on weight
I’d go wherever I desired
I’d be able to sleep when tired.
If I was seagull, I’d be able to swim
Walk and fly. Leave excrement on
Passers-by, laugh and squawk at will.
There’d be no lingering death if ill.
No coffin and false funeral
No religion and propaganda
No investigations by Panorama
No sex abuse by the clergy
No exams, no measurable stress
No jealousy, no hate, no misery
I’d be able to have sex, obviously
No bullying, bulimia, autism or
Dyslexia. I’d suffer from tourrettes
But never need the vets,
No Shakespeare, no poetry
The odd cat might worry me.
If only I was seagull.
David Cox 08/08/22
By the Spirit of Love, Creator,
Holy Ghost Is Mother,
Three Spirits like One Family, Over-Eternal,
For the Sun of Truth, the morning star,
Disillusion on the signs of false balance in that scene, stage with suicide for humanity,
Like the swastika is the false cross in particular,
Reddish signs of propaganda with pale and dark,
To seduce people, state, and the society,
Dark leader find fake charisma of doctor Lecter Faust,
Pale state of country, like mercury, do what wicked leader want,
And people and society are linked in murder by the reddish dragon,
The ill approach by narcissism, like an ant,
And become the spotted leopard,
Cry again the blood of Abel,
One and united, eternal Gospel in the hearts of saints,
Particularly, this angle of perception from the mission of Elijah,
Wings like the mantle,
Mantle stops Jourdain,
Shows the Trinity by the Baptism,
The outlaw on the right exhorts the outlaw on the left, and the assembly of humans,
When the good outlaw was young in the wilderness, he hid the Holy Family on the way to Egypt to lurk,
And he was always Robin Hood in his life,
Ousted by Caiaphas’ maid and Pharisee Satan from the safety of paradise,
And he returns to the garden and city of life, with body and soul alive,
Crown apostolic of true witnesses and judge in the mantle of Elijah and Elisha,
For Nabot’s vineyard like indestructible heritage,
Death empty, serpent abominable, who died in this dialogue,
Jesus with Job and Jonah,
Cherubim and seraphim,
And first in dignity is Virgin Miriam,
My flag, the scroll written within and on the back,
Sealed with seven seals, measure of the door to worthy entrance in the temple,
Who hear in seven churches of Apocalypse - is my army of last defense,
Natural rainbow of Noah
Against that albatross dinosaur pterodactyl,
Against his shadiest toxic cloud of pharisaic sacrifice of Cain,
By without third cheek Amen.