Long Schemers Poems
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The city can be an unfriendly place:
harboring schemers that prey on the weak,
the timid and the insecure.
I never felt at home
in a big city environment.
I spent my youth in a small village
nestled in the woods:
literally in the middle of nowhere.
And I've never felt
emotionally comfortable:
away from home.
But all that changed:
the day I met you.
We dated; we were wed,
and we got a place of our own.
And for the first time in a long time,
I feel I belong.
My anxieties have disappeared,
and I can't explain it:
other than to say, I feel loved;
for when I'm with you, I'm home.
It only takes one bad orange
To spoil the entire basket
This is true and strange
It only takes one narcissistic nut
To burn down the whole block
Very often the bully will mock
The minority and the destitute
It takes one infected prostitute
To contaminate the whole country
This is sad, scary, and crazy.
It only takes a cretinous one
To fool the uneducated pools
To mess-up the brain of other fools
This is an unusual season
Where civility and decency
Are thrown off the balcony
Countless innocent citizens
Are hurting. This is a chaotic jungle
Where the worst, the biggest eagle
Rules like over-zealous fans.
It only takes one rotten orange
Ladies and gentlemen of the jury
This is incredible, spooky and strange
It only takes one felon to corrupt the country
Our world deserve better leaders
Our world needs no hate-mongers
Our world needs no tax cheaters
Our world needs no corrupt schemers
Our world needs no nefarious actors
Our world needs no bloody monsters
Our world needs no sorry conspirators
But decent citizens and fair prosecutors
Convicted felons or criminals belong in jail
They need to be living with Satan in Hell.
It only takes one stupid slogan
To start the expulsion, the execution
The pogrom and the annihilation
Of so many good men, women, and children
Why is it so easy to do bad things?
Good deeds do not take place every day
The wise parrot no longer hums and sings
Unity. We can simply mourn and pray.
Copyright © June 2018, Hebert Logerie, All rights reserved
Hébert Logerie is the author of several books of poetry.
A Special Dark Run
A Pile of Fetty For Fun
Crystal Natures and a Ton of Bad Jokes
I said it all but thats not all I had to Say poke.
I had To Stay broke Huh.
To see how rich the fix is
I had a simple Plan
Purely Intrinsic Huh
In consequence
Of course the relay of course
The Bang we play
Got me wondering about my biscuits
Ima silly hammer
Hambone Scammers and schemers
Bad mamma jamma spree planners
Sagittarius and wee little
Stars that twinkle in the night sky
A good reason why we keep
Walking why don’t you knock
Stand around awhile and talk
Signal them and chalk it up to the sidewalk
Sitting here checking out the rocks in the concrete
Little River stone
Im sitting here tripping, Not always alone
Who the are we missing
Lets go back and get em
Before we go to the next show
My Buddy was walking down the rd
Though the blacktop and dirty socks
Though the mad talk
And 333 packages of pop rocks
666 broken pipes
I needed some more last night
I needed a reason
To leave I needed
Some time to rethink
To think again
I need to survive
I need someone to
Rely on to relay with
To replay the day for forget about the
Weight we carry the way we barely
Notice
Im sure im a sex fiend and there
No way to come clean
There no way billy jean
Is not my lover
You know it takes a special lever
With hands of pure gold
With a spirit that sparkles like diamonds
Prolly for my own lust
Prolly a hundred times I tried not luck
But on the hundred and first time
I scored a critical hit
On the first of whenever
Your first check clears
The lever thrown.
The Craven
(with apologies to EAP)
Yesterday at my bail hearing, suddenly what I was fearing
Came with force of pounding gavel causing me to near unravel
Causing weakness in the knees, dreading future lawyer’s fees
Then I heard the gavel pounding, pounding on my future days
“I ain’t got the cash, your honor”. “Lock him up until he pays”.
“Damn the system, judges, lawyers, laws embossed in courthouse foyers.”
They make decisions based on fact that later they will all redact
Whilst in cells dingy, dank and foul I listen to the guilty howl
Denying what the voices said, denying they were in their head
Plotting schemers that connive, a curse as long as you’re alive.
Deep into the emptiness I stared, longer than the others dared
Saw the bottom of hell’s pit, no chance of getting out of it
Bargained, pleaded, made a deal, my soul for getting out of jail.
So now in days devoid of change I wrestle with decisions pangs
knowing nothing can erase the malevolent grin on Satan’s face.
Cold, silent, darkness wanting more, sucked the heat out of my core
Distantly I heard the sounding, that of the evil sadly pounding
Pounding on the chasms floor, pounding amid hellfire’s roar
For I was judged by ego’s gavel, condemned, and left, to slow unravel
Condemned, for even justice fails, when there are fingers on the scales.
9/21/2014
submitted for Kelly Deschler contest – The Raven
Walking in curiosity's footprints,
I wander through life like a beachcomber.
Placing wit above life's trinkets and chintz,
I seek thinkers and poets like Homer.
Many peg me as a shiftless roamer,
but I am anything but commonplace.
The cosmos gave me a glimpse of God's face,
and my soul knew that there was so much more.
Humanity defines the human race:
godlike, with a predilection for war.
I value my memories more than gold,
flashes of how it felt to be alive.
For recollections can't be bought or sold;
they're private places where emotions thrive;
shifting conscious thoughts into overdrive.
I don't follow fools who would burn witches;
I've more respect for those who dig ditches.
Diogenes searched for an honest man
amongst the schemers, hoarding their riches:
and though he couldn't find one, I'm still a fan.
As a dreamer, I never once dwelled on schemers,
so, as a believer, I fell for him, a deceiver.
I was never an anger screamer and tear streamer
until romantic panic lay me down as griever.
I believed his story, his strengths and regrets
which had me set to gently drift into his net
where hidden, as yet, were his sharp-hearted threats.
He spoke of love most profuse when he played to seduce.
I revealed all my truths, he used them for abuse
while running hot then cold to steer me towards confused.
Oh, he was charm, lushness and warmth, a manly steamer.
Then he was harm, harshness and cold, a heartless quiver.
Playing the fool to his cruel, is my self-debt,
one my brain did not deduce, nor heart now excuse.
Ollie Ollie Oxen Free
by Odin Roark
Corners to peer around
The harlequin of angles
Where peeking
Reveals
Where being stuck
Confines
Where feeling trapped
Separates
Our remembered child stands
Eyes squeezed shut
Face buried where two walls meet
Counting to one-hundred
While confidence sought
To play out our innocence
Beneath
Behind
Beside
A trusted game
Waned
Time passed
Shorts became pants
Pants became suits
Nostalgia echoed once more
“Ollie ollie oxen free”
Still we remained
Unwilling to believe
The forged sincerity
Baited with fiendish smile
Enticed with charm
Was but to set up
The next furtive trap
Suddenly
Acquiescence lay naked
Villainous schemers
Knowing but numbers
Who lured
Cajoled
Seduced
Our reluctance to cave
Are…
Later
We dragged ourselves away
Kicking and screaming
“We only wanted to play the game
Not be the game”
Emptiness invaded
Freedom to respond
To return home
To trust a voice
Wasn’t so
Anymore
Ollie ollie oxen free
So simple
So everlasting
Now but an epitaph
We are dishwashers and bill payers, we have day jobs and night jobs.
Some of us are retired, I am not, because I know too many
who died after they did that.
They lost their purpose, and before they could find another one,
they gave up, and left their earth life.
We do not have any more time than the rest of you,
but we grab it up and use it in full force.
We have chosen a life few choose. We are word players -
writing on napkins and paper plates.
Grabbing whatever is near at the time, jotting down phrases,
rhyming words, and lyrics.
We knew that we could and we can, and we do because our souls
will not let us not do.
We are the dreamers, the schemers, the world lovers,
the imagination people.
We are the ones who invent the new things, and
tear up old ideas to make room for new ones.
There is a driving force that tells us we must.
I call mine Trixie. She is an inner voice that yells at me.
She has crazy ideas. She cajoles me and coaxes me.
She holds me down until I yell “Aunt!” so I follow her lead.
We are the poets.
I'm a Christian, you can tell,
Don't carry tales, spread rumors.
I'm quiet and I'm humble,
Don't have time for schemers.
I'm considerate and kind.
I'm proud to be of help;
As long as I'm not asked for much,
Or take from my own wealth.
I'm in church each Sunday,
No matter, come what may.
Those who miss the meetings,
Will change their tune some day.
I watch my manner and my mouth.
Don't smoke, don't drink, don't swear.
I'm the town girl scout for sure.
Don't miss a chance to share,
My knowledge and my wisdom,
With whoever I may meet,
And shine my guiding light on them,
As I walk down the street.
To know me is to love me.
I give each heart a lift.
I thank my God for making me,
A blessing, such a gift.
Raven Wing Faerie resting against the inside of earth’s silvery moon
Floating pixie dust dreams toward the planet, without any swoon.
Relaxed and easy, she gives confidence and hope to the dreamers.
And inspires the artists, poets, singers, and rainbow moon beamers.
Yes, I am talking about those of you who have ideas galore.
Who wake up with a smile in your heart, loveliness, and more.
Those of you who understand that others are good and sweet.
You, yes, you, the children of the world who feel nature’s beat.
You may not be aware upon waking that Raven Wing was here.
But she was sizzling your dreams with dazzling ideas so dear.
She gives of herself freely, wanting your life to be the best.
She is awake during the evening, in the day time, she’ll rest.
She comes into your mind and helps you know what to do.
She gives you super ideas, you cannot get when you’re blue.
She is super quiet about it, but she has your interests at heart.
Her inspirational wisdom helps you each day with a new start.
Raven Wing Faerie is resting on her favorite ebony raven’s wing.
It is her happiest bedding, and it makes her generous heart sing.
She likes giving happiness dreams to the schemers and dreamers.
She loves what is invented by those lively rainbow moon beamers.