Fantasizing past glories
yet slim, she slipped into
a ‘come-and-get-it’ leopard-skin
her own flesh even crawled in it
Attracting a buzzing --
testosterone-overdosed mid-lifers
a few 'good ole boys’--
she slipped back into her
fraying house robe
dousing her passional make-up
in a wooden bucket of cold water
deprogramming her six-inch spikes
~ Cindy’s suitors formed a search party
i overdosed for the first time last night
all the times i spent trying before
didn't seem as bad anymore
i laid in bed trying to sleep
hoping this would be the time
my eyes stayed closed forever
but i was held awake against my will
deep in my brain,
i knew something was wrong
even if this is what i've been wishing for
for so long
in the past i managed to fall right to sleep
when i took less than i did now
i wanted to be swept into dreamland
but the wheels in my brain kept turning
and my body did too
flipping back and forth
trying to be in a comfortable final position
i kept getting hot
no matter how little blanket i had on
and the wave of nausea hit
i thought i could be fine
go to sleep, make it all go away
all of it
but as i rushed into my bathroom
at four in the morning
i knew tonight wouldn't be the night
as my head hung over the toilet
i wondered why i'm forced to stay
reliving the same treacherous days
without anyone knowing
because how do you even bring that up?
to someone?
i don't know why this world is so adamant
to keep me here, held captive as a prisoner
is this karma?
what did i do that was so bad?
to deserve this?
Ayaba, Let's go to Oniru beach
Where I can be your man, and you my ,
With the waters splashing on our feet,
Ayaba Let's ensure boredom suffers defeat;
While the palm fronds clap and whistle around,
And the ambiance of paradise abound,
We fit take time chop some jollof rice,
Fried tolo tolo overdosed with spice;
African queen is what the JBL is playing,
But we ain't listening to what it's saying
For our hearts are singing a song more melodious
So beautiful that even tubaba go dey jealous;
Ayaba, you may been from the clan of yemojas,
Thou with the nicest curve and the baddest ass.
Dey with me as I stroke the length of African afro,
Cos I dey feel like say I don dey drunk with your shayo!
Niggyraslife the poet #2025
The power in your eyes got me in my thoughts,
And the happiest moments that we share,
With real love that grows through time,
And never in a minute.
I mean
I could rewrite the alphabet
Just for U and I to be close.
You shine Like a star
An angel sent from above.
Still,
I promise to be true,
And give my all to you.
For your love is medicine
And you got me overdosed.
Many says love is blind,
But I can see it in your eyes.
And of course,
I see a queen in you.
All in all, it's you I choose.
The long-awaited naked truth
Today, I undress my words.
All of a sudden
The stars have stopped shining
Blimming sadness in Heaven
Too many babies are maimed and hurt
Too many infants are starving and suffering
Too many women are crying and mourning
And too many men are being sought
For summary executions
Where countless elders of the sad nations
Have disappeared without a trace
The pain is excruciating. What a disgrace!
All of a sudden
The sky has become extremely dark
Bloody chaos in Heaven
The cemetery is in the park
The buildings are bombed and bulldozed
For heaven’s sake, too many soldiers are overdosed
Where ships, vessels, yachts, boats and canoes are sunk
Somewhere is buried a dead skunk
Where everything is comatose and decomposed
No one can honestly envision a bright future
Where nobody can dry the tears of Mother Nature.
The stars have stopped shining
The moon is visibly absent
The sun is on strike and fasting
And the weather is eerily aberrant.
Copyright © June 2025 Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved
Hébert Logerie is the author of several books of poetry.
and she was the golden ticket
who didn't fly with me
she didn't make it home in time
she ran inside
of the pain in doubts forced upon hands
hands made of gardens
and wrote to me of hatred
backwards in times twisting cowardice
her nickname was cc
and we fell in love
the purge of our homelessness begins again
she had a son in the beginning of time
and Valentino's fragrance sang to me
stilled in the files of hell
when i emerged they told me
she overdosed
sincerely, lost irish
Written By: D. Collins 1/25/25
Create something beautiful while you're on this earth.
It will still be here when you're long, under the dirt.
Create a masterpiece molded from your own hands.
Inject the juice that extends your family Clan.
You take that seed and give it nothing but good.
Tell them the things you'd change, if you could.
Then, they go into life with some experience.
In knowing Daddy ain't taking no nonsense.
Create something good before you leave this earth.
Show the whole world your value and worth.
Give something back to show you were here.
Give them a Meika overdosed in high gear.
Morning glory,
The mountains stand in brown nudity,
There's no shame in being mighty echoes the wind,
The air is taut with the brooding silence of a storm,
It will rain tears sooner or later,
And the roar of affliction will cut through the silence,
The rage of war will be a din,
Churning cataracts of unceasing wants,
Our hunger refuses to be quenched,
We are obsessed with ambition,
Drunk with desire,
To taste the elusive glory,
Of phantoms dancing on the apex,
Like shifting hues playing charades with overdosed pride,
We chase the wind and fight for the mountains,
Who will speak sense to our senselessness?
Who will stop us from storming the gates into the city of madness?
Who will stop us from claiming the lofty place of dark desire,
As we sit on the throne of insanity?
The dead woman’s cat in the furrows of the garden
does not let herself be picked up
although hungry and thin after five days
with the dead woman and a night in the rain.
It has gone to join the other feral cats
among the junk behind the house.
On my way to work I try to entice it
with false friendship, guilt that the dead woman is dead.
On my way home I buy a can of cat food
but can’t find the cat. I let her go
to her fate. Later that night I try again
but there’s a tom waiting in her place.
Maybe I could have saved her if I’d known
her husband overdosed last week. Just maybe,
no more.
I ask the neighbors what happened to the kid.
The kid lives with her grandparents, they just used her for welfare.
I used to say
Somebody dies every day, it’s normal.
Stay near the earth people
that’s the way to grow old.
In October, in SoCal, where I was raised,
the hot, dry Santa Ana's blew.
The years since then sure flew,
and in every one, the wild fires blazed.
Each year, the month ended with witches and ghosts,
and candies by the score.
Could we eat much more
before, with sweets, we overdosed?
In Kindergarten, on my sixth birthday,
I brought cookies for Halloween,
orange, black and green.
My mom sent me to school with a tray.
Today, October brings a mixed emotion,
It sends the summer away,
but I guess that is okay -
It sets the holidays in motion.
Simple slacks, nymphomaniacs bent over against the wall
Training tracks, trapped out shacks three pirouettes then fall
Switching blues not of the clues pills not measured in balls
Way to close the overdosed introducing the new King Fentanyl...
bmdavey@08/2024
Gently cries the child
Into the night
Listening for that soothing voice
Just a loves throw away
But mum’s not listening
Mum’s overdosed
Sinking deeper into a toxic haze
Eventually dying with the needle pointing heaven bound
Gently cries the child
Into the night
Listening for that soothing voice
Just a loves throw away
Mummy’s calling to you
Not be long now precious
Not be long.
If you had one year of love,
and then you had to say adios,
should you be glad or morose?
Sure, if it ends, it’s not what I’d hoped,
we just weren’t destined to be betrothed.
We had fun, we were close and jocose,
we snogged until we practically choked,
and we did ALL the fun things that were gross,
but our forte was that we felt safe, I suppose.
Now, I’m not saying it’s over, but I tend to diagnose things
and while I wouldn’t say that we love overdosed,
I would guess that we’ve shared more love than most.
Some movies, we want to experience, again and again,
from the prologue, until it crashes, into the credits.
With waves of laughter and tears, oft happily afters.
Some movies, we value the sum, wishing to whiplash
through the reel, for its too real, with smoking guns.
We love the family hugs at the start, but it breaks our hearts
all through the middle parts, as if we’ve been gutted or shot.
Specially, taking the loved ones into a church, securing
the doors and nailing the windows shut. Claustrophobia
of the sinister, of the dark, of the red and blue flames.
The splinters, the bruises, the beatings, the fear, the burn
hold onto the credits, tear through the compassionate soul.
The movie was gut-wrenchingly good, but torturous.
We sigh, as we say our goodbyes, especially when
we know that the actor has overdosed, joined the dead
in his youth. The truth of weaving a tale, summing up life.
6/20/2023
Trying to make it through “The Patriot”
I’m not overdosed by medicines
I have been overdosed by your love
Oh! Sorry! by your SMILE
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