Some witchery has happened in my past
As I was prowling swiftly through the woods,
The scent of freedom in my nose, my lungs,
My hungry stomach and my lonely soul.
That fateful evening as I fell asleep
There was no premonition and no hint
That in the morning as the sun appeared
I’d realize that I was not myself.
What were these hairless long and stumbling legs?
What were these arms that didn’t touch the ground?
What were these teeth that couldn’t maim and kill?
And this desire for a human’s touch?
Since that much-hated day I’ve lived in towns
And villages with people who do not
Suspect the origins of my unhuman self.
I eat their food, I dance around their fires,
But once a month, when skies explode the moon,
And when my past is screaming in my face,
My every tooth becomes a canine knife;
I’m on all fours, I flee towards the woods…
The morning comes, and being back in this
Forever weak, forever naked flesh
Is worth the taste of fresh delicious blood
Upon my chops, if only once a month.
Human! You’ll never guess what!
Something I’ve recently caught,
placed on your quivering knees.
Do with it just as you please!
Smell it—the mauled bloody flesh,
gifted to you—sweet and fresh.
Look at you, screaming so loud!
Trust me, I’d also be proud.
Think of me, little but still
willing to maim and to kill
only for you, and above
all, feel the strength of my love!
The grave of the unspoken
The evil spirit sat on its chair,
Spewing a venom that poisoned the air.
Ready to spontaneously combust at any time.
The folk walked in silence, faces turned low,
or it swallow their light and teach them to grow,
Into the hatred that hollowed their chest,
A soul that could never find beauty or rest.
It only crept out in the dead of the night,
Searching to feast on any flicker of light;
It lived to attack, to wound, and to maim,
Until it was consumed by its own bitter flame.
It died in the trap of the darkness it made,
Now a prisoner now of a self-dug glade.
It haunts the graveyard, hungry and cold,
Seeking a spirit to break and to hold.
But there is a shield for the innocent soul:
To keep your heart steady, to keep yourself whole.
You may know one the same.
Never visit its grave, never speak of its name,
Just huff, cross yourself quickly and extinguish its claim.
TRUMP CLAIMS LONG-TERM GAME
IRAN SAYS BUDDY SO LAME
YOUR GAME WE WILL MAIM
A treasure was given to me
One with whom I could never depart
Day after day, I saw decay
Form in the center of my heart
I watched pieces harden and split
Discolor and begin to chip
I told myself that one day
I would have the money to fix
...what I was breaking
Robbing the world of beauty
Given to me for my joy
By keeping you, safely in place
You remain my baby boy
There are so many elements
Outside the doors of this house
That can kill and maim
What I must never allow
....suffering
No, no, my sweets, surely you see
All punishment belongs to me
I tried so hard to clean it up
The systems riding my back
But it seems as though
I have taught you the way of lack
There is no way I can repair
What I broke with Mama's tools
Restoration can only come
When necessity pulls
...value
It is not enough for me to see
The gift of you in the reveal
Seed lies dormant in ground
And I am he that wishes to steal
You do not belong to me
I am not granted your soul
I enjoy your presence, always
But it is time to let go
....and observe
The grand rising of light
As the mason repairs our sight
Written by Trudy Schrader on 04-12-2026
"I hope they pick me"
"Oh crap! I'm stuck"
"Come on, just stand"
"You better do good"
...Prove yourself
"I can sing...a little"
"She can't belt the notes"
"Carrying a tune is easy"
"She'll fill up space"
...Proving herself
"Come on, we need you"
"I've never been wanted"
"Just bench her"
"I've noticed I never get to play"
...I need to prove myself
"She's just so weird"
"I need to be normal"
"She talks to herself"
"We need to speak...right"
...Prove we have a "self"
"Why are we here???"
They beat, maim, mar
Yell, cast spells, slam us in jail
So many bars, walls, and mirrors
Reflecting "SELF" just trying to
....Prove...I'm a....me
Why is me, a...we
I don't want to leave a soul
That's it...all the PROVING
Is meant to bring the broken into the HOLE
Heart Restored
Written by Trudy Schrader on 02-14-2026
Royalty can be no match
Sometimes, for a plan to hatch
From the minds of angry men
When they have an angry yen
To overthrow what they don’t like
and make a move to shoot and strike
Rather then make their appeal
They would rather maim and steal
But
In this saga to retell
As his rage he could not quell
It is true as it was seen
’Twas a pickle saved the queen
Had she not reached for that Dill
Her assassin’s plot to kill
Might have gotten very far
Had she not reached for that jar
Thank God for that pick, pick, pickle
Saved her life, it’s just that simple
Sometimes, she is just so fickle
Thank God, she reached for that pickle
Now forever in this land
There will be a PICKLE Stand
With a sign for all to see
Saved the queen, HEY, look at me
That assassin’s been arrested
And his punishment attested
He will labor many years
Canning pickles, chips and spears!
Lost to the thoughts in my head
It didn't matter what was said
The world outside didn't matter
Living life with all that chatter
All I would seek is my own name
And the voice that would maim
I couldn't forgo the assault
Because it was my own fault
I went on an endless journey
Going in circles of worry
I thought I would lose my soul
If I stopped and gave up control
So I listened to the voice of treason
Instead of giving into reason
I listened to the chaos inside
Despite it taking me for a ride
I ran away from those who cared
Reeling from the voices I was snared
I write this as a warning to a future falling
Try not to listen to the voices name calling
You are so powerful
So brave my darling
Would you like a memento
Or a ceremony commemorating the number of animals you have killed?
Would you like a tattoo on your head
Or a television ad disclaiming your body count?
Would you like to maim a puppy
Maybe check how many blades you can fit inside it until it dies bleeding?
Still hanging from its mark
A knife inside it's little heart
Still beating.
Would you like a hyperlapse of them howling to death while you enjoy your bravery?
Putting on a show for everyone?
Would you like to see how long it takes to strangle a cat to death?
Perhaps you would enjoy killing kittens more.
Would you want a human baby instead?
We can offer it to you in black because it's not really acceptable as of now.
The middle eastern spell that shames the solemn
In shadowed midden dwells the stain now common
In darkness beaten fell in name of goodwill
Our princess peace repels their pain and blood spill
She struggles selfless held in chains by order
Poor passive tranquil, gelled by blames and borders
The stolen fertile meld of reigns now taken
Where powered egos tell of hope forsaken
Let gentle logic down the dames of warfare
Whose metal madness grounds the games to threadbare
Pray mistral mildness pound and maim their story
'Til peaceful light surrounds regaining glory
Cape Flats is my town
But it always lets me down
I feel like a clown
With a crown
The violence
We cannot silence
Rob kill and maim
To the gangs its all the same.
where childhood is stolen,
where mothers bury their children
Heart broken and sorrow
A life so hollow
You they will follow.
Like a barn-swallow.
A township so vain
Full of pain
A killing everyday
This is the only way
With violence everyday
All we can do is pray.
Childhoods are stolen callously
Stolen very tactfully
Cape Flats live in brutality
And hate and fear angrily.
A lot of hate crimes
At the best of times.
Rape and killing
This is so unfulfilling.
Let this be a lesson
And not a mere session
To teach a session
Let it be a lesson
Not just an obsession
But a positive progression.
Of our own confession.
I wandered lost through the streets of dread and flame,
Till mercy found me,clothed in stranger's guise;
Lord bless that man who spake not word of shame.
My heart was proud,I spurned my parent's name
I sought the world reaped its vanities;
I wandered lost through the streets of dread and flame.
The night was cold, my soul a heap of blame,
Yet he drew near with pity in his eyes;
Lord, bless that man who spake not word of shame.
He questions soft-''What land from whence thou came?''
I told of fields beneath Free Statean skies;
I wandered lost through the streets of dread and flame,
He spake of home , of love that never maim.
Of mother's tears that never truly dies;
Lord, bless that man who spake not word of shame.
He gave me fare,and bread,and hope became
A living light where one was compromise;
I wandered lost through streets of dread and flame
Lord,bless that man who spake not word of shame.
I don’t know exactly what the Bible
Has said about these three words
However, I know these are like sharp swords
Which can only be negative and destructible.
They are definitely the obvious opposites of love
Love is sweet, soft, beautiful and refreshing
However, these three pariahs are destroying
Everything on their paths; they are full of loathe.
There should no room for them in the natural verse
They can burn, break, disrespect, divide, hurt and maim
They can contaminate and rot everything. Where they aim
Is unusual and irrelevant; they are deleterious to the universe,
Copyright © October 2025 Hébert Logerie, all rights reserved.
Hébert Logerie is the author of several collections of poetry.
Is it the arrow while in its flight?
That determines what is in its sight?
More likely the archer, with steady aim.
Shot not to kill, but to hurt and to maim.
At last, he’ll release his final revenge.
It’s not his choice, the flight to abate,
The target chosen as if by fate.
The arrow its damage, it will do.
The deed is done, the archer is through.
Now he can stop his honor less binge.
Revenge was not the ultimate cure,
For all the pain he had to endure.
A forgiveness path should have been taken,
A better path, be not mistaken.
Love enters in to act as a hinge.
Opening the door to understanding,
Knowledge enters and is expanding.
Two people beginning to comprehend,
Like a willow tree, they too can bend.
They begin to see hope on the fringe.
In death truth is told, the final sting.
The voice of justice begins to sing.
Those not able to make the right choice,
Understand their error from the voice.
All are harmed when the choice is revenge.
a Magic 9 poem
Who's to blame?
I don't know,
but it's a shame
that children suffer
in the name
of what is holy~
Is God the same
for all who show
us how to maim?
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