Trump’s stuck-up pin playing adrift,
Here’s fig leaf of his haughty brief:
‘On verge of nuclear war
How two neighbours next door
Were stopped, thanks to my trade tariff’.
Not his policy pick,
Rather personal pique
That might drive two friends off the cliff.
___________________________
Happenings | 45.08.2025 | USA, humour
Note: Trump feels that if lies are repeated umpteen times they turn into truths. Keeping this in mind he throws in statistics to support his grand policy postures. India has rebuffed him often on Indo-Pak matters, short of calling him a liar. But he goes on like a stuck-up Gramophone record.
The sea refuses no river,
Even if it could, it never
Showed resentment
I learned how to hide my feelings,
The emotional game became a contest,
I start with a genuine smile,
My pearly whites, my body postures,
I have given my oppressor over the years
Inner satisfaction, they thought that they had won
Because the counting was yet done
We have learned from Mother nature
She gives us the warmth of her son,
And some days the scorn of her daughter's winter
Deep within my soul, I know them for whom they are
Parasites,
The river and the sea communication are all about
Love and happiness,
Living in a world of injustice,
Who gives them the power and the form?
Globally, we stood there and watched.
Slept throughout the day,
Feels like I’ve slept through my life.
Wide awake I lay—
It’s just that kind of night.
I've become a spectator of my own life,
Not a wink, even though I’ve turned off the light.
Switching postures, counting sheep,
Tried every last bit—
I guess it’s just those kinds of night.
I'm not living in the past,
Or in the present, for that matter.
Tried everything to feel alive,
But the hour I’m thinking all this… isn’t quite right.
I understand now—
It’s just those kinds of night.
PATRIARCHALITY postures to protect pursuits of personal power
it has been said that truth is stranger than fiction
so perhaps what’s affirmed could be true
although it seems unlikely
ludicrous in fact
that by controlling breath
and visualising grace of imaginary deities
along with chanting mantras and holding postures …
we can realise God
who we know not
have never seen
not even felt
yet who can tell
let us leave the door ajar
ceasing thinking and just feeling
the pulse of divine bliss magnetism within
Are you scared , watching our odd gestures ?
Don't get afraid of these fake postures.
We are three brethren :
Come and play , children !
Join us and enjoy our adventures.
The caller’s voice resonates in the jovial air,
his elegant moves steer on floor each pair.
Hold her, hook her from the rotund rear,
swing her around in circles with full gear.
Do-si-do and promenade in postures wild,
each step entwining your hearts beguiled.
Swirl around like an eddy in rhythmic flair,
dance to the beat of heart in the square.
Allemande steps you’re to deftly do-si-do,
until music fades from square with no clue.
I can be a wretched fake, in private, intimate performance.
I’m an actress capable of imitating spontaneous pleasure -
by tricks of hesitation, convulsive vocal play and postures.
A mimicry undetectable to an immediate spectator.
Aww, thank you, I’ll sigh, as if leaving a good party.
“I’ve got a lot of homework to do,” I’ll add, a minute later.
To clear the stage.
Bronze blackened
by fingers
tactile traces
three dimensional
visual joy
imagination illumed
displayed forever
in stilled life
to touch a dream
&be touched
by
poses for posterity
human forms
in creative postures
displaying
the beauty
that resides
in us all
from finger
toe to torso
a visual close-up
life-size
sensuous & tactile
a journey
for the eyes
to dwell
& meditate
consider & respond
to an invitation
to kiss to think
to applaud
the inherent
sculptured
reality
The garlands of Purple Heart's--lifespan 'twas
whilst mutuals courses' like facial scarves,
Earth, Moon, poise Theda, be all silent stars,
pray solemn moments like stealth jaguars.
Twilight unveils some gentler theme from me
postures a unified bestilled embrace.
'Neath a unique spotlight of afterglows grace,
thus thy footprints bare none e'er so gently.
Alight butterfly rest on a finger,
hushed spilled words persuades a whimsical breeze.
A star brightens midnight, airlocked deep freeze,
cradling Devil's Hour as demons linger.
Luna rights a bottled balm of leisure
surrounds cast fawning more pain and pleasure.
An isolated silhouette grows
amongst cowering greens as
an aimless impression yonder
trace mimicking lifeless postures.
Outlines vanish from the capture
as that raises a different outcome,
yet the instinctive mingling seems
to handily host its surroundings.
An uncomfortable challenge awaits
the undaunted souls whose remapping
and charting of the intriguing stranger
that disarms their unused weapons.
A laid-out weave of strong fibers and
the jungle gifts neatly covers it as a
large freshly killed Peccary lies in the
middle. Woosh! Snarls the elusive one!
Listen my friends to the bells that tinkle and jankle
The early and spontaneous arrival of autumn,
It is a painful and unusual surprise for the birds,
Which wanted to dawdle among the weak reeds.
Tonight, the sun will disappear surreptitiously sooner.
The schoolboys are unhappy. They refuse to utter a word.
Their parents are elated to see how time is passing
Rapidly, like the short breath of a dying old handyman.
The green leaves begin to alter their postures.
The flowers are rare. They charm Mother Nature less.
No golden sun glare after the Angelus; the air is somber.
And the freshness from the north hypnotizes the refugees.
The old men, in disarray, wonder under the sorry shade.
This year, autumn exudes less warmth and cheerfulness.
Copyright © September 2019, Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved
Hébert Logerie is the author of several collections of poems.
This is a translation of the poem: L' Aterrissage De L' Automne by Hebert Logerie
Sunday, September 22, 2019
The teal peels as it submits to gloaming,
and a round lucidity exposed abroad.
As the alien brilliance shines far away,
the maneuvered view is being cast.
'Tis dormancy that exacts dark period of tenure,
countdown from the zero hour.
Distant silhouettes grow versus fawning growth,
dipped in Luna's balm.
The etching of profiled naturalness acquiesces,
constant figurines masquerading the expanse.
Subtle contours architecturally restructured,
split seconds surrender serene scenes.
The solid realm maintained lifeless postures,
as the teeming formations made idle trims.
Mimicry traces the bestilled in passing,
perfect copies render mockeries silence.
Heights claim their surroundings,
as the tight-lipped verdant statuesque frames.
Depths summon intimate intrigue,
whilst burgeoning burrowed bedrock bound.
Exchanging brightness extremely bold,
lilt ventures its routine as the subject of Sol.
More or less defining shadows...
there's no difference that a day would make.
Cameron looked on wordlessly:
Many things he’d said carelessly,
The dumb are safe with made gestures
Not easy grudging their postures…
With words he’d just planted hatred
In the mind of Schuller Alfred,
Whom he said had gone to Rwanda
Only to come back with Panda…
First lured by her economy,
His hopes Great Business Colony;
In Rwanda no more anomy:
Who won’t try Brave Agronomy?
One should guess the whole picture:
The glib-tongued need a mute’s lecture,
Also, Eunuch’s Vasectomy
Or, best, God’s Deuteronomy.
shapes
adjacent
subliminal postures
in elements
of purity:
a surfeit of harmony
shards of enlightenment
minute observations
luminosity articulated
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