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“The rules are simple,” Wednesday whispers.
“Forget the kale, the quinoa, the virtuous calorie-free green misery.”
“Today, we bow to cocoa, the bean of pure delight.
A square, a bar, a molten river, bathing worries in warm light.”
“Eat chocolate, be happy. It’s less a suggestion, more a dare.
Try to frown with fudge smeared lips. You simply can't. Pinky swear!”
“Guilt? Maybe later. Right now, there's only chocolate,
and the profound understanding that sometimes, the answer is simply…
….more chocolate.
On its way to fade away
Lovely summertime will wilt-
Declaring its time to pass
They came with loaded guns a pack of ten police, for Desi Freeman
Did they the first shots release? Now two are dead..beat down by
Lead, another wounded; and their quarry is fled.' What crime originate the chain of events.? Sad to see the state of affairs.' Mind
You life now seems cheaper.' Where once many cared here.' Is
It the fruit of heavy policing, and government over-reach.?
Did he lose a grandparent.? Due to lockdowns and hyped speech?
Was there a gripe.? What does this teach.? Will he be the
Modern Ned Kelley, adrift in the bush.?
Will dobbers surface.? Will confidence leech? I only hope for healing.? Peace and mateship i here beseech.'
Come on! Let them do, let them pass
Today is not time
To shoot people anymore!
Don’t you know is November the 9th 1989?
Today there is not time
To stop goods anymore!
Come on! Only one thousand dollars
Will cost you a plenty full track!
At 9 past 21 p.m.
The wall is falling down!
Laissez faire, laissez passer!
There are bound to be changes
For our lives further on!
It’s crashing down
Together with our illusions
Their false promises
The wrong secular hope!
Come on!
The wall is not hiding anymore
The totems of progress!
Let’s go worshipping
The glittering gods
Bounding ahead!!
The dead that now know
God's move in ~predestined~ wind
Sift through the free grass.
You must be longer
in there than I am this staid.
Above you, to leave
Where distant dogs bark, since then
My fallen soul buries rest.
I dreamed a song —
hush tones and haunted chords.
A woman loved once,
and it grew into a tree.
She watered it with years,
fed it her voice,
slept beneath it,
called the silence love.
And in the final verse,
she hung herself in its arms.
I woke with the melody lodged
between my ribs like a blade.
I turned to you,
my daughters,
my mirrors,
my storms unsoftened by shame.
I almost sang it to you,
almost let it pass
from my mouth into your bones,
like the women before me did —
lullabies lined with
martyrdom in a dress.
But I stopped.
Because I saw your eyes —
not frightened,
but awake.
And you, fierce ones,
you deserve a different song.
I find the world doth pass me by
Shall I give it one last try
The young don’t share my point of view
They’re not upset by unverified news
You cannot talk to them, only text
They’re so feeble they're undersexed
Why, when I was their age ---
Oy, there goes my darned ribcage…
Father Time sneaks up on the best of men
So to all ‘goodnight’ ~ ‘til I’m born again
'Follow your dream'
easier said than done
as the girl of my dreams
for me she is the only one
and yet for her I don't exist
she sees through me sad to say
don't have what (it) takes her fancy
won't even look my way
as ships which pass in the night
our two hearts will never meet
I find mine's a dead-end dream
on the wrong side of a one-way street
Diving deep in the pond of the sub-consciousness
I die every night, you die every night too
This is our way of rejuvenating the body
This may sound crazy, eerily or even spooky,
However, this is absolutely or definitely true
Our body makes a special trip to correct the mess
Which takes place from a certain time to the other
We die every night to pay a visit to another crater.
We die every night, if we're blessed, fortunate or lucky
We return to our natural living state, feeling rested
God in his divine and genial way created us that way
That's a given, we have no alternative; no other way
To change things. Sleep deep tonight, die slowly and lightly
Hoping that we'll wake-up the next hours alive and resuscitated.
Drowning in a slow sleep is a gift, die a little tonight
God will not keep us. This is wonderful; this is out of sight.
Copyright © August 26, 2016 Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved
Hébert Logerie is the author of several books of poetry.
Life is beautiful but the journey is no less than a rollercoaster ride.
Let's hold hands together and pass each high tide.
Let's make it interesting and cherish it together.
Could we not at least exchange some crummy
anecdotes about our recent pasts
some poorly recalled bus stop or shop incidents
semi memories of there was this time when
I'll take any half digested subvocal passing thoughts
and an inappropriate and unvoiced yet sincerely held
opinion which you know is safe with me
Throw me a crumb here and I'll toss you
the whole hog utilising my award-winning
(and vigorous) masculine muscles
Instead of flinging it angry apelike
into the webvoid in the form of
incoherent cackhanded freeposts
begging for any minor engagement
Let me be perfectly clear
The end of this world is very near
Father against son
Mother against daughter
When in time is all this slaughter
What great change could draw the line
Between a generation of so small a time
Who could cause so great a crime
The Day's of Noah finally defined
How will come about this great change
The why of which still has to be named
A Great Depression has come to pass
And pass it did and did not last
But to come again are days not far
The poor forgotten and Rich the law
The love of money the root of all evil
The freedom it buys, justice it denies
How will they live when they want them to die
Kill the aid and they take from us
No longer pay the things they trust
Pay the ones who keep the power
Deny the ones who suffer this hour
Change the laws to support the rich
Hide the guilt of those who snitch
Put the blame on innocent names
After all, It's just a game
Then will come the wicked hour
The End of the World has all this power
“If you are the smartest person in the room,
then you are in the wrong room.”
- Quote by Confucius
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Jealousy
Conspires
Envy
Boils
Pride
Blinds
Silence
Suffers
Faith
Heals
Humility
Wins
seem so sad to say
she (he) slowly would pass away.
was with God this day
The old ‘Pass-Punt-Kick’ contest
misappropriated by politicos
You’re familiar with the stereotype
the kind who check which way the wind blows
Like a hot potato they pass the buck
If asked a tough question, they punt
And when a financial decision looms, they
kick the can years down the road
So, fans, it seems we have a winner
535 Congressmen, each and every one a sinner
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