Concrete Boxed Graves
Concrete boxed graves.
Compressed ceilings.
Surrounded by emptiness.
Long hall-ways of loneliness.
Caged in fear, penitentiary dreary.
Isolated decayed society.
Mind warped.
Coldess to slumber.
Psychologically insane.
Tormented and left behind.
Unforgiving endings.
Abandoned through melancholy.
Dark and eerie places.
Confined through punishment.
Suffocating from sin.
Arkham Sanitarium.
Forgotten souls.
The darkest imprisonment.
Buried mentally.
With no place to escape.
A tormented prison.
Hidden away and forbidden.
Fingernails carved into concrete.
A creepy place to be.
Concrete boxed in graves.
Trampled Wills
Do you want something? Own ideas?
That’s a problem! You cannot live alone!
Are you an individual? That’s a crime!
You cannot have your own will and
consciousness, ideas, dreams, goals
You can’t be yourself, you have a ruler
You are a slave to a science. Human-made
This is the dark age. Foggy. Psychologically
The sun died. God became an exile
We are controlled and monitored animals
This is the darkness
We become zombies
In the Bible, Jesus said
Wolves come in sheep’s clothing
People who have been made…
Hopeless are waiting for the hope
“I am your hope, I save you!
Just do what I want of you!
Just follow all my instructions.”
Say it with a false, friendly smile
In a lambwhite cloak
The Foggy Psychology
You are
Money
Monday
Exactly 45 years in Australia.
In bitter cold Melbourne Victoria.
Came here with few clothes in a tiny luggage.
Now 4 & a half decades later,
Collected lot of baggages.
Some are still good, others are quite damaged.
Was single with bright future.
Met friends here and there, but not dating till 7 years later.
Engaged and called off the wedding to the love of my life.
6 years later, got married, had children and ended all the fun.
One nightmare after another.
Psychologically being tortured.
38 years later, can't help falling for someone who is one & a half decade junior.
There goes my second chance of happiness.
Out it went, my life with romance.
Just want to forget all the pains and headaches,
To enjoy the remaining of my days.
Who is going to take my hand?
For sure, no one will take my whole life too.
But I can't help falling in love with you.
I clicked and learned everything quick,
Except when it comes to romantic.
I promise to myself, no more friendships, just me and music.
That would be fantastic.
You were the 3rd person, I was so fond of.
I loved you from the start.
Help me to end and kindly mend my broken heart.
Acanthus
Giant acanthus helps psychologically clean up
violence when she
eats athletic clubs hosting
violent bullies.
the origin of my life
a frottage
friction
giving rise to the template
the grattage image to be completed in the mind of the viewer
women
are often invisible
at best
compartmentalised by Man
a notional ekphrasis
but they make their presence known
they’re a work of art crowding in on the subconscious
labyrinth of walls built by mankind over eons
to keep out that which they fear
colouring the walls yellow
it is a Freudian slip
by that subliminally acknowledging
that it is
mentally activating
psychologically stimulating higher cognition, intuition
creativity
and feelings of optimism
all attributes of Woman
having escaped confines of cultural mores
I do not go with the flow
but will often lead the pack
Night trains
People in the night and the daytime, just traveling, silent lives
No one talks, someone is reading a book, and others are playing on phones
Still others are engrossed in the daily news. Interesting community. Friendship
Every day, day by day, millions of people are traveling, going to work, church, or party
But not the same experience, or impressions, but the same views, melancholy, dream
Dead interactions? Yes, it’s that. The reason is the fear. It’s created psychologically.
Night trains. I love it more. Every people a sister or brother, but daytime also, but…
… something is different. But on the train, in a public community friendship is stopped.
Fear, inhibition. Fear from the psychology and law. Directness is punished.
Anti-humanistic science
It kills life, don’t be a human!
Hmm, there are answers
Brings it the trains of the science of dark.
Salacious, sultry
Simplistic signs of
Seedy sensory
Semi sentimental sales on
Socials
Surreptitiously
Slinking ..
Slowly
Sliding into your
Sphere and
Psyche.
Psychologically
Seducing
Some senses so
Suspiciously
Satisfying
So,
Surrender self;
Shield for safety,
Stand strong
Secure salient sentience
Successfully
Set sights solidly -
So soul secures solidarity
In sacred sanctuary of
Shalom
Somewhere,
Sandy sunsets certainly save,
Silky spider's web sparkles in sunshine,
Soft sensory surroundings subdue
Significant silent scenery in
Summery satisfaction.
Soporific seaside sounds
Singing in sympathy
Solitary safe sanctuary of seduction
Saving soul's sanity.
Selah.
Slowly, so slowly..
Spirituality of the natural
Nestles into the nape of
Normality
Now knowing
Nature's notably neutralising
Nurturing
Nourishment nectar of
Never-ending
Nirvana
Why do I feel Myself just sinking
With nothing and no one to hold on to
Slowly, yet, I am on solid ground
Do not think it ironic
It’s quite plausible
Only I am not sinking,
Not literally anyway
Just emotionally, psychologically, spiritually
There’s nothing of Me left
No, I am not crazy!
No, I am not delusional
No, I am not over-exaggerating
No, I am not under the influence!
Listen to me.
I did not vanish into thin air
I did not explode into tiny pieces
I am not invisible
Yes, you can still see Me
You can still hear Me!
But can you?
Is it Me you see?
Is it Me you hear?
Or is it the illusion of My body, My voice,
Struggling to exist, in agony, but perhaps with a little hope
The hope of a new dawn
Perhaps it will be better today than it was the centuries before
That hope is all I have left
All I have not to let go
But perhaps that too will fade.
I plead you save your laughter for a more dramatic act
Kick me not to the curb
Do not be ignorant of my suffering
And later have the boldness to say
“If only we knew”
At the place I will rest
LISTEN TO ME!
NOW
I am a blackberry fruit
Dark and shiny and plump
Growing wildly on the roadside
Sprawled on an old tree stump
I'm fragrant and enticing
Admit it, I know you fancy me
You just can't resist my charms
I'm a tasty bite and free
Think jams, puddings and pies
Sweet treats galore I proffer
Come over here, why don't you
And see what I have to offer
It's a bit of a tangle, I know
I'm behind a lot of vines
Tucked behind some prickly thorns
Ones with very long spines
What's that? You pricked your finger
That's a shame, but never mind
Stretch a little bit further over here
The vines are less entwined...
And now, of course, he's fallen in
He was psychologically pushed -
Never underestimate the cunning
Of a blackberry bush.. ambush!
Roses, flowers and bouquets
Love, Honor, Peace and Respect
Verses, poems and literature
Spring, wind and nature
You are psychologically ill
You are as violent as an eel.
Everything bores you in the Everglades
Or nothing seems easy in this deleterious
And lysergic exosphere. Everything bores
You : kisses, hugs, balls and nightly serenades
Hymns, chants and songs and choruses
How sad, this season, you’re worse.
Copyright © June 2022, Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved
Hébert Logerie is the author of several collections of poems.
Like the oyster keeping its mouth fastened with pearl,
Her locket was calm with pearl of secret, treasured;
Link has loosened somewhere? Nerve got numbed? Sudden whirl…?
Once psychologically bound has now leisured...?
She held it to her heart; right hand clasping it tight,
Haven't her life-time dreams and hopes lie bundled in?
Horror dreams had woken her sometimes at mid-night,
She looked for it first, than anything else, with grin...!
She knew her neighbor, who got one from her sweetheart,
That when got broke how soon her life got upside-down...!
Her vowed life with her spouse turned true hell; torn apart;
Aren't all these, yet, omens-tinged and fate playing clown...?
Shouldn't broken locket be fixed like other gifts?
Should broken locket be cause for endless love-rifts...???
28 June 2022
One In Five Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Joseph May
Remember winning sporting medals
Taught in life sport gets you nowhere
Forget what I’d done to win those medals
Good for nothing and going nowhere
That’s the lesson taught by my mum
She’s either evil or very dumb
I became exactly who I would become
Unsuccessful without confidence
Narcissistic mother syndrome
Psychologically beaten numb
Belittling medals I have won
All my life since I was young
It made sure I refused success
Never thought to progress
Underachiever and depressed
Be no more only less
Even though I only played for teams
Who won their cups and won their leagues
I was blind to success I couldn’t see
Now I do and I always believe
If I apply I’ll better me
Becoming more than I could be
And she will still belittle me
But I don’t care what she sees
A dreaming-to-be-blonde brunette
Psychologically caught in a drag net,
Her forced-upon nickname “You Cant!”
And she’d wished she were a debutante!
The further-taunted-about-her-sibilant
And mannish manners, not mildly militant…
Then, one day they started their plant
And she mindlessly took up a chant
At breathlessness out classing the ant,
Even as peaked never did pant,
Finally paralyzing her disbelieving aunt
And by a half music-promoting Gant,
Who could still his left hand move for The Grant…
A big shame to those who at Rita rant
For being the-good-for-nothing,
Often wanna be startin ‘somethin’
And A Rat Never-Do-Well
Wanting to The Cat bell…
Finally, A Rat bells The Cat
And instantly enemies lose fat!
The easily cured by the broadest of smiles
Of a cancer gone gross miles,
To life gingerly bouncing back
And beginning to not a lack!
The speedily healed by jocular doctors,
Worsening worries from one who hectors:
The time the keys to his coffin start jangling,
He between Heaven and Hell dangling!
The Hit-With-A-Spiteful-Elbow
Who soon recovers with a placebo:
The suspended-from-ground mistletoe,
Or several winks after stepping on her toe.
Yes, to whom it is excellent news,
That you’ve just paid for her juice.
Quick like lighting, she is flown
To a darkness
With waters of murkiness
To a pebbly zone
To her practically unknown,
Nowhere near her a rescuing phone,
To be physically tortured for deeper groans
And psychologically for disquieting moans.
Now, she is mortally afraid
Of even the dusts into her eyes blown
And has herself made
To seem into a furnace thrown:
Increasingly picking the sounds of her melting bone
And unnerving scenes of one crushed alone.
Gosh! The restless voice of her sister,
Not here,
Could 've been an alerting megaphone
And that of boyfriend Peter,
Still out there,
A panicking microphone!
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