I saw it being built on sacred ground
a field where we boys had many times
reenacted Custers Last Stand.
Ashen boned jaws were riveted to the sky.
The school now waited to be
a concrete cave where madness
was injected into cringing sponge.
I dreamed once that I was a dog
chained to the school's bicycle rails.
Inside the new school, demented teachers
screeched through split nails.
Each lesson had to be hammered
into my psyche, each day my scalp tingled
with a foreboding.
Yet I knew that the arrow in my eye
had to be pushed in a lot further,
a whole lot deeper,
if my mind was to be ever
totally massacred.
I write the saddest things just to see if I feel.
This is real
Depression
Repression
The world holds us back
Words on the attack
My imagination does not lack
Love hate
Different aspects of the same fate
Why it comes and goes so fast
Words that forever last
As times slowly creeps past
Then life's a blur
No heart pure
I love you, I hate you
Leaves one so blue
Hello is the beginning of a broken heart
Feeling miles apart
My crazy mind
Nowhere can I find
Something so kind
As no first kiss
Lonely, so much more bliss
Love at first sight
That is the start, of your first fight
Everywhere I see
wounded knee
Massacred heart
Scalped soul
Which be love goal
Bitter tears
Too many beers
Truthfully denying
To yourself you be lying
Spend your nights crying
Then go out and look for more pain
To increase loves stain
Was not once enough
Hearts are pretty tough
I stay alone
From what life has shown
You go back for more
Us smart ones done closed that door
Nailed our hearts to the floor
Now my crazy words come to an end
Got chores to tend
She cries for the slain,
She mediates for the oppressed,
She opens the door for the innocent,
She avenges the tortured.
Her voice is heard on the streets,
Where the feet of the downtrodden tread,
Her tears flow at the grave,
Where the massacred are laid.
She walks into the courtroom,
Her presence permeates the space,
She hears the cries of the forgotten and lost,
She goes in search of an arbitrator.
She traverses crooked lanes,
She journeys on jagged terrain,
She searches out the lost pieces,
She embraces the embittered.
Before
Toussaint and Dessalines
It was nothingness
Organs, guts and spleens
Of our ancestors could be found alongside the roads
Many fleeing poor slaves in disarray
Were treated worse than animals
Oh! It's hard to find the words
To describe the usual carnage
From the time of slavery.
Before
The Battle of Vertières
Graveyards and cemeteries
Were virtually everywhere
Before
Pétion and Boukman
Christopher and Biassou
It was slavery
Blacks and Indians were considered savages
Worse than animals
Were humiliated, lynched, tortured, massacred, and killed
By adventurers, buccaneers, hyenas, deplorables, freebooters
Pirates, motherless bastards and marauders of the time
In search of sugar, foodstuffs, indigo and gold.
Copyright © June 2022, Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved
Hébert Logerie is the author of several collections of poems.
He is eight and confused. He has been borrowing ideas all year.
He asked his classmate if he could copy off her.
She has always said yes until today.
Maybe four weeks of copying was enough?
Now he is irritated and angry.
She did not say yes or no, she told the teacher.
The teacher talked to him about plagiarism.
He thought he would be handcuffed and put into prison.
I tried to reassure him.
Refocused him.
He told me a story about his dog being massacred.
I asked about that.
His dog has a sore paw.
Then he told me about his thirty-two family members
Who all live in the same house.
I am thinking maybe there is a bit of exaggeration in this child.
Raising the cross on the dome of the rock, we rejoiced
Oh god! what did we rejoice, our hatred, our love,
What is love, sadistic love, crusaders love, for the love of god
There is no love, we massacred them all, ....everyone’s dead
Liberum Divisa 4 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Gregory R Barden
From my poem, Everyone’s dead
27/02/21
The insidious reign
of your apparitions, your
coitus with the attic serpents
was sufficient to strip all
pigment from my skin.
Was it they who walked you
blindfolded through the upper chambers
of our modest Eros quarters?
Didn’t you walk them?
My self-reckoning, old Freudian suppers
were wet cookies beneath your heels.
And we lived here!
Their split tongues crowded my speech.
Our energies were split hairs, gnarled
To the scalp!
Our timid blithe seconds were
massacred!
Published: PS It's Still Poetry, January 2022
Like Abraham Maslow's highest Hierarchy of needs theory,
You are a ruler, self actualized and need not to worry.
You look down to downgrade the poor from your mansion,
That has been your passion.
You shine so bright like a light,
Brightening the paths of your loyalists at night,
You have stood time still,
Crushed emotions, souls and let their blood spill.
You buried the hapless, unknowingly they metamorphosed into a seed,
They germinated. In you, that sprung up greed.
Many are still afraid to be massacred,
Seeing you from afar with their beautiful eyes that are not mascaraed.
Your marginalization pierced them like arrows,
The pains registered but they lacked no songs like sparrows.
Amid the direful calamities of the time,
They stood tall beneath the cold glare of your desolate crime.
As they rule their world, the death of your dynasty and tenure came so fast,
In anguish, you are dallying in maudlin regret over the past.
I'm sorry you have collapsed into a dreary and hysterical depression,
Making your days to be brief, shadowed and full of condemnation.
Catholic churches were attacked in Sri Lanka
Many of our brothers and sisters were massacred
By
Fanaticism and ignorance
In
The name of their God
But
When would we understand that there is only one God,
And that is the God of love,
That we all are his children,
All embraced by Him the same,
None being loved less than the other,
None being put higher or lower than the other?
Those who committed this abominable crime,
Thinking they will be rewarded with a place in paradise,
They soon will find out that their miserable souls
Will be condemned to eternal damnation
For committing:
Patricide,
Matricide and
Fratricide!
© Demetrios Trifiatis
21 April 2019
* CNN: Sri Lanka blasts. At least 327 dead and more than 500 injured
in multiple church and hotel explosions.
R.I.P. our beloved parents, children, brothers and sisters.
When my Mother was killed?
Like a cockroach;
Schotched
She was butchered
Her name erased
From the book of life; expunged
Leaving us unaided
Orphaned
Disregarded, by people
Nobody pays heed
From dust we feed
Swimming in poverty
Famine attacks
Our life, full of strife
As we see her grave
Calling God to save
Our massacred Mother.
Drencho POET Loads
In the tumult of the night
We all knew fear
Sadly for many of us
It would be a final night
The fires blazed that night
And we watched with wary eyes
As soldiers fought to save all they could
It was truly a horror that night
In our history it is our blackest night
Thousands were massacred
Millions were displaced
It forever changed us that night
In the tumult of the night
We all knew fear
But the next day brought rains
With grit some would see another night
Once again our nation…our world…is mired…in a sad and gloomy fog
as 11 more people have been massacred in a Pittsburgh synagogue…
11 innocent people praying one minute…the next ceasing to exist
11 innocent people added to a long and growing list.
Once again we are filled sorrow…once again our grief we can’t disguise
Once again we feel for the families…once again the whole world cries…
Yes, once again we’re crying as more of our innocence drifts away
because tears are all we have left…when we have no more words to say.
Joyce Fienberg, 75
Richard Gottfried, 65
Rose Mallinger, 97
Jerry Rabinowitz, 66
Cecil Rosenthal, 59
David Rosenthal, 54
Bernice Simon, 84
Sylvan Simon, 86, (husband of Bernice)
Daniel Stein, 71
Melvin Wax, 88
Irving Younger, 69?
Greetings!
We offer congratulations, and welcome you to death-ground. Fight valiantly, or be massacred. Lunch will be served, at the completion of human hacking.
For glory and for God he shouted
As he roared into battle
So his hunger for death could be sated
Weilding and slashing, hacking with his sword
From his strong fast horse he was determined to conquer
Laying waste to the enemy
Blind to everything
Blood lust was his passion
And it was driving him
Shouting as he bore down on men behind shields
No mercy or compassion did he feel
The clang of metal on metal
The sounds of screams and pain
The whole battlefield now red with bloodstains
Corpses piling high as the battle raged on
He sang out his hearty battle song
Baring his teeth as he chased frightened foe down
End of the battle now he assessed all around
A sea of massacred human beings
Sprawled out before him
Representing either side
He cared not one jot
It was all about glory for him
As he stood on the battlefield
King of kings
While standing in the puddles of his murdered kin.
As dark as the darkest is the night around me
Long I can see as much as this darkness shows me
Dead is the one thing I can be such is the life around me
What I speak travels miles,only to fall short in front of night
Yet I cannot listen anything such is the chaos around me
Long ago my hopes were massacred in a mental genocide
Yet I am looking for that dawn to come with thousand eyes around me
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