If hate imprisons you, set it free.
If love is color blind, why aren't we?
Based on the behaviour
(bigoted intolerant prejudiced racist sexist)
of so many descendants
of those pioneers who crossed
the Mason–Dixon line
back in the day
demarcating the North from the South
in the good ol' U.S.A.
come rain or shine
I can believe
(with this empty bottle in front of me)
some of the settlers automatically
received a full frontal lobotomy
or if they did not
it's what they should have got
and strange but true
as a rule of thumb
the further north you go
the more southern it will become
A non-impartial juror is as guilty as a criminal
He or she lies, he or she believes in lying
That’s absolutely illegal. I am fair and ethical
I believe in justice, the truth, not in hiding
Or diluting the truth with blessed water
I thought that our world was blessed
I thought that we could be and do better
Wow! Things are messy. This a hell of a mess
No wonder so many brothers are in jail
The prosecutors, the public defenders
And the judges will also be partners in hell
God is watching our moves and manners
God is listening to our spoken and unspoken
Words and gestures. The system is broken
It’s more obvious than ever. The Constitution
Is a piece of paper, right? I am saddened and shocked
That Favor is doing his tricks to steal the next election
Again, while the voters are typhlotic, aphasic and mocked.
Copyright © January 2020, Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved.
Hébert Logerie is the author of several poetry collections.
I’m in no way prejudiced she said
But that one is white and that one is mixed
Skin color prominent in her head
Always remarking on it; her mind fixed
They were fishes swimming in the same pond, but stuck up.
There were only two of them, but they did not speak.
One was polka dotted, the other was plaid.
Too prejudiced to get to know each other.
Taught by parents who did not know how to appreciate differences.
The entire pond had no other fishes, they passed each other morning and night.
For sixty years they passed each other, neither speaking.
Died lonely, and alone on the same day, neither mourning the other.
Heaven would not let them in.
“You have to go back and learn to appreciate diversity,” they told them.
They spoke for the first time.
“I hate you,” they told each other.
Not a great start.
Am I prejudiced?
I am a slave to poetry.
I do not wish to be set free
a willing prisoner happily.
Constrained by strict parameters.
Which form the rules for formal verse,
to discipline I’m not averse.
Though modernists all claim to be
Poets. I find I can’t agree.
Their work has small appeal for me.
I can’t commit to memory
One single piece of free form verse.
In my opinion even worse
they are deliberately perverse.
Delighting in obscurity
contemptuous of clarity.
Yet still they claim it’s poetry.
9-Oct-07
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