Propaganda Poems

Fake News

Informed by image
Shocking, stoking, misleading
Algorithm headlines

Nationals

You wear your flag like a second skin,
the colors bright, the threads worn thin;
And speak of victories long ago,
In voices proud, yet soft and low.

The tales are told, again, again
the triumphs carved in dust and pen;
The papers shout what you should hear,
While silencing what’s less sincere.

You count your coins, you guard your name,
you say it’s

Blurring the Lines

The fakification of modern life
Is almost complete
As AI and disinformation
Crowd out the real and true.

If you didn’t see and do it
How can you even trust
It ever happened
Or at least how they say.

Like the old Emperor and his new robes
But in reverse
Now it’s the old calling out the lies
While the young just accept the illusion.

To the

A Warning to Conspiracy, the Paranormal and the Occult

Crowley can suck eggs and men in beds,
The spies can take a long and slutty hike.
Leavitt can take the words she spreads,
And sit for each on cactus spikes.

Magic is but a muse,
A trick a mind performed en masse,
Claiming fiction in the news,
As if evil's in the smoke of grass.

Ghosts and spirits float in heavens,
Hovering in

Black Propaganda

Dark whispers take root,
Poisoning the public mind,
Truth becomes the ghost.

©bfa042325

Propaganda is Alive and Well in the USA

Information is not always true
Even if printed in the newspaper blue
But if it’s on the internet, it is right? Some think
Why would they print lies in permanent ink?

It’s called propaganda, you silly peeps
Subliminal clips brainwash you while you sleep
You are so gullible, our country is a laughing stock
For ten thousand dollars, I can sell you

are you delirious

I rose through the ranks ready to rumble
Panama is ours! I yelled into a jumble
Are you delirious asked a mob of thirty-three?
Guess I am for I just had my Fox News lobotomy.

Black Boy

black boy hungry
feed black boy crumb 
black boy needs education
black boy dumb
but the black boy
don't need handouts
he wants what he owns
government take and take
but they say 
all black boy do is moans
black boy stolen
black boy broken
but they'll put him on tv 
black boy token
black boy whipped
his black back breakin' 
black boy cries
it's black boy land

War

War

War is real
It’s bad for your health
They send you to death
And embellish their wealth
War is necessary
The propagandists rev you
Til you hate the scum
Who have families like you
Sister, wife and mum.
You’ll fight for freedom
While you do as your told
The blood in your veins 
Becomes icy cold.
Your name on a monument
Your wife touches the letters
Your kids cry

Virtual Democracy

Democracy ain’t
What we imagine it to
Be. A disaster!

Communism is as
Bad. Exploitation is bad
Everywhere, my friends.

Same strange lies
Our world is in trouble
Cry and pray.

Copyright © December 2023, Hébert Logerie, all rights reserved.
Hébert Logerie is the author of several collections of poems.

Anti Ode To Voices of Hate and Propaganda

                   Tlaid like Rash' o stabbings, 
your voice hisses from your podium of Hell. 
Blah blah blabbing.
A one sided Tale, of convenient scapegoats. 
The goats of your usual slaughter of throat. 
No empathy, only agenda and love's

Mirror

We buy and are sold priceless things,
read human stories written by android;
a smokescreen present muddies the once transparent past,
innocence doom-scrolls, an aging youth now hard to avoid.

Look young but age gracefully,
stay slim whilst enjoying your food;
have children as you climb the corporate ladder,
discuss your feelings but don't affect my mood.

Water once clear becomes slick with

How Many Putins Are There Anyway

It is. It isn't. Is it him today?
It might be Putin, or it might be not
How many Putins are there anyway?

That's not his chin. It is. It's hard to say
The space between his eyes is not a lot
It is. It isn't. Is it him today?

He's out among the crowds. Oh happy day!
All former paranoias are

Tell Them

Tell them
Open their eyes
See the truth hear the facts
Listen to the wise ones always
Tell him

Tell him
Always be kind
Shine with the brighter stars
Let the man match his own shadow
Tell her

Tell her
How to be strong
And how to hold her own
Give her gifts of light and power
Tell me

Tell me
Which side you picked
Why do you palter so
Our time was

Stop the Propaganda Against the Queen

The Queen has answered her ancestral call
England is in sad reflex to her nightfall
My condolences to the Royal House
For Her Majesty can no more live within the House

But her legacies which make England proud
Will in many books be read aloud
Sadly we won't further say God save the Queen
Who in humility lived in between

With no thirst

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