**Therapy Session**
Some people insist that a demon exists within all of us.
A rapist is nothing more than a thief,
And it's clear that some public defenders
Don’t have more intelligence than their clients.
Remember, you are not obligated to serve as a juror in every case.
With that understanding, creating a mental trend becomes straightforward.
It's astonishing to discover a hockey player who is anything but fierce
or a police officer controlled by fear and anger.
A cook without a kitchen is ridiculous
as tango without jingo—a philosophy that leaves no gaps.
The new breakfast drink is here: iced coffee
In the morning and mocha lattes all day.
Don’t interfere with the work that empowers us each day.
I am a woman who follows the warmth,
and I refuse to believe that a tree that doesn’t blossom is a worthless creation.
Yes, you can eat tree bark while the lark builds its nest on the ground.
A philosophy without any gaps stands strong.
My mind racing behind a cloud of smoke. The systematic deterioration of my life's work. yet most of the time I sit smiling, open minded to the possibility's, and to the actions that require an opposite and equal reaction to the options that lay dormant . Nothing came to mind. Rather id watch my own demise then be called to make a claim on another's life. So back to my decomposition a composition I'm very familiar with. My aid might be just inadequately enough to began the healing processes of someone who needs the primordial elements from my destruction to find the reasons and meaning in their own lives. I know I'm not obligated to pick at the scabs but my empathy wont allow them to hurt alone. Those influences that persuade, to succumb to healing. To not watch the final grains of sand funnel down. To accept that by holding on there is not another turn in this mortal life of flesh and bone. Even the prettiest of flowers must deteriorate to live again, to blossom`
I'm stalking the ground.
Treading the lines between,
half human and distorted frequency.
Slowly, I recede. I'm choked off from everything.
A distant recollection, an obligated memory.
I barely made out. Shadows of insecurity obscure my mind.
Fruition in a haze of lies. I'll reanimate. I'll tell myself anything.
I'm losing my soul, and it's the cost of everything.
If anything goes, then everything goes with me.
It's all my fault; that's what you said to me.
I'm losing my mind. A decomposing family tree.
I try to remember, I can't remember anything.
If that's what you want
Kid, states is paid
Tapped your hand pad out
No grissle on the iron
Steam tears of fear
Preposterous approval
Applicants endure sub traction
Textworth of link sis
Under obligated
Your sheath
Envelopes back paying crime rent
There was a time I remember
When life felt dreamy,
Whose memories now seem fuzzy.
How did I realize so soon that life is not Disney?
Someone please tell me—when did I turn 15?
It feels like yesterday when the people in photo frames were with me.
How I wish I could go back and say goodbye happily.
There’s not much I can do but survive in this obligated reality.
Someone please tell me—when did I turn 15?
There was a time when I believed in forever,
But now life reminds me that forever can end anytime.
How did I get lost in these streets of uncertainty?
Someone please tell me—when did I turn 15?
Those walls, those gardens, those streets, those halls—
They scream nostalgia, they should remind me of my childhood,
Of the days when my heart didn’t feel heavy.
But for some reason, they stopped meaning anything to me.
Someone please tell me—when did I turn 15?
Those people who once belonged to me now belong to everyone.
Not that it hurts me—
It’s just that life feels scary
When I sometimes see myself lonely.
Someone please tell me—when did I turn 15?
You chose a poet.
So you’ll be loved more than the moon loves the stars
But you’ll also have to handle the darkness
The silence when that cloud descends over her head
The begging for you to stay when you hadn't said anything about leaving
Because her heart has been broken
Over and over
If not by another boy
Then by herself
The high expectations
The imposter syndrome
Because she’s never good enough
She tries and tries and tries
But nobody notices
The blood sweat and tears drip off her face and onto the page
That paper is the only one who knows
So if she opens up to you
Don’t break her even more
Tell her how much you love her
And how you’ll never leave.
Tell her you’re not obligated to stay, but you want to
Tell her she's gorgeous and don’t let her brush it off
Because she’s a poet.
She lives off words
But doesn’t believe what others say.
I was comfortable with our Verbal discourse, at first Reluctantly
Sapiosexual Being, Intellect your speech, I yearned for more
The version of you I placed in my mind, Foolishly
To accommodate my infatuation
I ultimately refused to see, Blindly
I walked to the edge of the cliff with blurred vision
Already emotionally strained, now wounded, Bitterly
And don't know how to feel or how to end the pain
that I inflicted, on myself, Inconsistently
I was wrong, but I will heal
Obligated to Self to be Strong, Mentally
Self Inflicted Torment
Wondering how to escape my Mind, Consciously
Blaming my Sensitivity
Prosecuting My emotions, Emotionally
Being Loved is minimal
I valued the version I created of you, Inaccurately
But now I see, Clearly!
Your Love lacked Support, I was not your Priority
Lesson Learnt! Bridges Burnt!
That Version of Me that Needed the Self Created Version of You
Has Evolved, Balanced on a Scale with a Feather, Peace Profound, Thankfully!
The sphere of influence is as big as the globe
"To stand by things decided"
We're obligated to follow precedents
What happened before the cold war,
Influences the decisions made in today's courts
Questions and arguments rise for this principle
Yet echoes of the dead say "let justice be served"
"Stare decisis"
Is it up to scratch?
It ensures uniform application of the law
Not like any random inconsistent policy,
The law is as consistent as waves kissing the shore
To let the decision stand is to be class
And class is permanent
It does not consider the environment
Though there is a little space for improvement
Law deals with precedents
Just a different time of incidence
Our lives are guided by how our ancestors were judged
Case law, went through criticism and survived
No one is above the law!
We shall live by it
Stare decisis!!
I play the burlgar of the gates
Of the constant paradigm
Which states that never is too late
To clarify the hidden scheme
What makes the power powerful
What makes submission obligated
Could be an energy of fool,
Collective fool that is dictated
To do the right, as it was taught
But what seemed proper, fades with time
Appears another face of God
Unjustice gets a justify
The devil’s advocates have won
Concealed arrangement, sealed and signed
Was a conclusion, long foregone
And what seemed fair, turns out a lie
But as I crack the secret code
And enter in, I see the same
Dimmed room, as if it was foretold
To be repeated in the game.
The president is charged and convicted
Corrupt senators are handcuffed
Greedy congressmen are imprisoned
Prostitution is doomed and prohibited
And the constitution is amended.
The Justice department is doing its job
There will be more details
After the morning chronicles
This is clean up time, all the morons
Are locked up. It is the end.
It's the end of corruption
The streets are clean like the host
There is no more prostitution
The people are elated. Life is beautiful
All the corrupt are in prison.
Long live Our Darling Country!
Long live the impoverished
Betrayed, insulted, humiliated
Pilled and suffocated Mother Land!
P.S. We are obligated to tell the TRUTH.
Copyright © March 2018, Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved
Hébert Logerie is the author of several books of poetry.
From where I sit;
From my perspective;
From my point of view;
The lines are clearly drawn.
I need no further debate,
Because the hour is late.
I do not halt between two opinions,
And I need no further persuasion.
A clashing of principles has
Brought us to this occasion,
And the moment is neither
Perfect nor pretty.
There is a clarion call and
At this juncture, none must stall
Because the opportunity for change
Is now, and the hour is very late.
In a way of speaking,
Sometimes all the choices are evil,
But we do not have the luxury
To disassociate or disconnect.
The times have arrested and captured us.
Duty has obligated us, demanding that
We act prayerfully and wisely.
I paid money for my golden retriever
but I still feel obligated to send photos to the owners
This is day eight and I forgot to send one yesterday.
I do not want them to think they sold their puppy
to an ingrate do I?
I start out the text with an apology.
My eyes have been swollen, and I have had hives.
Not a lie.
Still, I feel guilty.
What is wrong with me?
The thing I do to be nearer to him,
Commuting even in weather so grim.
The things I do to have more acceptance,
Cleaning his home for a much better chance.
The bus I go northbound in drives down memory lane,
As I reminisce about what he and I once were, in silent pain.
The bus I go eastbound with shows me where he's recently been,
As I daydream of a future wish I deeply hold within.
The commute may not always feel worth it,
But I want to show him I love him every bit.
The way home always fills me with sorrow,
But I always know there is another tomorrow.
The things I do for him, despite coming and going,
It is because it is him whom I will never stop loving.
The things I go through for him doesn't make him obligated,
But the least I hope for is my love is one day reciprocated.
I used to juggle children, grandchildren, pets, and a husband
On my head, under my arm, in the air, twirl, whirl, twist and shout
Not any more
I finally let my superwoman out…
She needed a break.
A relaxing, long, soaking bath
A rest, a pause and playtime too.
I gave away all of my Christmas decorations
Except one small tree
This put my clutter into other’s hands
Now I don’t have to spend three days decorating
and three days undecorating
I bet you are doing a lot of cooking and cleaning at Christmas someone said
No, I told her. I pay my grandchildren off, not to come.
What do you mean?
I give them their Christmas money before Black Thursday,
so they do not feel obligated to come.
Then I can paint, write poems, do what I want over winter break.
That is brilliant! She said.
I think so too. No more juggling.
Peace and quiet, a Christmas treat.
Yesterday came silently
The Muses languished
Obligated they parade
waiting for their day
Night time dissipates true belief
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