My father was my Idol, Philosopher and Guide.
But he was a dominant person always to Control -
I had regular fight with him on inevitable Clash !
Imprisoned in childhood owing to daily Clash
Tired on conflict ! Developed personality yer he was Guide.
No way, I revolted to escape from his over -all Control !
I had to choose my own way getting rid of his Control
I had to struggle but I was just fed up on continued Clash.
Yet alll along I paid due respect to Dad as my Guide.
Dad was my Guide but I went out of his Control avoiding Clash !
595.
Learn History of 2 Revolutions!
Learn 2 Revolutions History
By a nation & a colony
The nation of France & colonies in America
Just after the Middle Age & the Classical Era
The American colonies revolted against Britain
The French masses rose up against the lords of their domain
The American Revolution led to the founding of their nation
Napoleon's Empire came after the French Revolution.
-12/14/2017
(Dumarao)
*WHN Poem
I am two dollars a coin away from help
But the clank of life
left me unadorned
I abhor the spirit that the doesn’t scream
Because I scream
To the telephone screen
I’m revolted by the volts of pain
Spread from phone
To phone box pane
The sticky flow of the scent of blood
Interests my intent
Its memory hugs:
The phone,
The screen,
The glass,
Your next to me in speech
But your speech is not sweet
For two dollars a coin
We meet twice a week
The floor is bad and stable
But never when I need
This grasp of horror holds me
And never lets me leave
I am not a spirit
I am not the floor
I am only a drop of blood
I cascade like shadow beneath the weary feet
Of a telephone tree
Like terrible intelligent beings
I whittle away
Like God and his lineage
I disappear
Till the telephone rings
And I bleed with despair
Or a change of life chimes
For two dollars a coin
And I ask to be freed
From the telephone screen
But the phone doesn’t ring
And it makes me feel weak.
For two dollars a coin
We meet twice a week
Only two dollars a coin
To make me feel free
There are only so many pages and so many stages
Of life I can riddle and write on through
Until the paper's a waste, and the words are bad taste
And I can't tell fiction from true
Until the pen is bleeding and loves are leaving
And my cursive has gone too far
Eventually the trees start screaming that I'm not worth redeeming
And I don't know who you are
The notebook is finding it detests it's binding
And the lines are just scribbles and scars
The pencils revolted, and the erasers remolded
And the calligraphy has taken up arms
There are only so many minutes and moment, of clarity and atonement
That the typewriter is willing to hold
A quill and a quiver, and how do they differ
When the reading light has become so cold
There are riots from rhymes in tempestuous times
And I am growing so weary now
When I sit down to write, of love and of spite
And whatever my pen will allow
There are only so many nights and so many slights
I can sit and stand to record
With words as my weapon, to make the pain lessen
It's time to trade in for the sword
Eyes closed
Eyes inwards
Thoughts drifted
Let them pass by
No reaction
No evaluation
Just Aware
As witness
Kept gaze on
Chakra points
Felt energy moving
Tried coherence
Between Mind-Heart
Tried to synchronise
Thoughts of Mind
With Hearts Feel
Felt Heartbeats
Felt I am alive
Transported
In bliss Garden
Felt like staying there
But Mind revolted
Opened Eyes
But did not move
Unwise to drop
Meditative state abruptly
Gradually descended
Amidst Earthly objects
Felt more calm
Found all same as me
Oneness in all
_____________________________
© Dr Hitendra Mehta, India ????
The feel of a blanket sends chills,
Thru my body as if,
I am walking over their grave.
I heard the sound,
From the background.
It grabbed my soul and,
It stopped me cold.
In that split second,
It sends fear throughout your body.
That sound, I remember it,
It brings nothing but evil and death.
I saw them before she did,
Bodies, Blood, gunfire.
The lady in the blanket shop in Korea,
She saw my face and,
Within a flash, we were in a secret safe room.
She saved our lives that day.
My hero was a lady in the blanket shop,
In Seoul, Korea.
On that day 20,000 students,
Revolted and killed hundreds.
My country is the beautiful sun
My country is not the hard winter
My country is an often green Eden
Always languid and tropical at dawn.
It’s a country where the crowing of roosters
Revives everybody every morning
It’s a country furnished with filthy slush and rocks
Where nature is a vast and miserable garden.
It's a country full of horrid stories
Where slaves and decent people are revolted
Against greedy settlers and bloody buccaneers
It’s where only macabre memories exist.
In this awful and morose atmosphere
Where I banter all that is negative
I will build positive monuments
I will dream and recite fables.
My country is the moonlight
Which gives hope and strength to fight
Against masked and zombified
Bogeymen. Oh! God, I hold no grudges.
My country is the ever positive imagination
Presently, I don't want to denounce anyone
However, I will silence the chiming bells
Oh! It's sad to see my people on the exodus
Near the evacuative shores.
P.S. Gilles Vigneault, this poem is
For you and our people.
Copyright © January 2023, Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved
Hébert Logerie is the author of several collections of poetry.
Sea of such violent ideas,
why did you create the storms
and the winds... why are you shipwrecked
my time to navigate you...?
Why did you rip me from your
primitive womb?
oh wind, scornful of papers
and sticks... how could you expel
my crepe paper dreams by
pure snort display...?
How dare you breathe my joy
away from the eyes that
followed me...?
Earth, filthy planet
why did you deny the vulture
the glorious mission of
consume me... why did you transform
my meat in seeds
weed...?
Oh world, sinister world
mondo cane... why
you broke my rods
with your sinister claws...?
Oh life how did you make up
with these deleterious to
hurt me... why
you took away my lovers
favorites, to offer
to your favorite proselytes...
But infected...!?
revolted i verse me
against everyone and everything...
Against these damned
that made me come
of a poisoned pleasure...
Wanted platonic love, but you
gave me slice
of love...
remnants of leftovers...!
All I do is be set in some form of pandemonium.
I'm sick of the same ripe, dull daily mind-numbing
How will I be urged if I lose my equilibrium?
Is life's symbiosis likely to be tedious scaling?
Everything appears to me to be rendered nugatory.
Similar to a grave where a covered body is decaying.
With a driven heart, I have for you high expectancy.
Since I induced the fantasies around your trembling.
What's extra, I hear you moaning in the wings, enunciation,
"I'm a long way from your stream; continue to scratch."
My heart is for the domain of passion, its constitution.
For what reason did you peruse it with a skewed outmarch.
Eros won't permit his sprouts to be stifled cautiously.
I opine he'll be revolted by your outrageous peculiarity.
Written: September 3rd 2021
Banned man
So, it finally happened, of course, Trump gets the blame
but I think this, not the whole story.
For years the workers have seen their wage packet shrinking
and their rights being ignored, no health insurance
nor trade union to look after their interest
As the common man gets poorer, the wealthy get richer
they live with the fear of needing surgery or losing the job.
The two ills go together if a sick person stay away from work
too long he gets fired anyway.
The people revolted Trump fanned the flame that already
was lit.
And it gets worse the big tech firms have banned the president
of the united states and that is an outrage that belongs
to a dictatorship, it has a sinister implication that doesn’t bode well
for us civilian when only what suits the big tech get a hearing
this includes anyone of us at any time.
when i die send me 2 Thunder Bay
thundered thunder bolts r 10 dbs
Nipigon River Bridge Recharging Station currents
regenerate thunder like brook trout roe
restocking fishing rods 2 ur net,
brook trout wear speckles not glasses,
revolted thunder bolts r 200 dbs;
give 10 loonies to the aboriginal station guard
who’ll cross u 2 station No 8
Nipigon Bridge Lightening Cove,
where lightening recharges
from 1 GW to 10,000,000,000 watts;
when i die i’ll put 100 loonies on my eyes
4 the recharging station guard
2 choose 2 join the recharging
thunder or lightening at the
Lake Nipigon Recharging Stations
Trends mirrored me
I wrapped fire in my gut
Passed through the cells of light
I cut my anchor rope
Struggled to realize my dreams
I floated above time
All is left to me alone - alone
The suffering - sleeplessness
I swam the opposite of my tragedies
I'm a prisoner despite the distress
I did not give up my sails to the sea
In the memory of my begining
I walked in my derby
Criticism - heart breaks - suffering
I wore them my stories
Walkers hated me
Lookers spited at me ugliness
I held it for years
Crossed it to sleep on
Hugged it - Hugged it
Mortgaged myself
Watered all my seeds
Although revolution is repeated
Yet career has not risen
Planes of enemies
Tasted the scourge of the earth
Civilization denied me
Parties divided me
Earth hunger revolted it
Soul milk satiated it.
It was Patrick Henry who said, "Give me liberty or give me death". Neutrality of a nation has little or no meaning for a world in decline
Death is the ultimate sacrifice and is often the price to be paid for freedom Elections by a free people must never be corrupted, denied, nor abolished
Powers are derived from people and must never be taken away from the people Evils, personal or political, perpetrated against people must never be tolerated "Never Again Convictions" can inspire us and give birth to a new birth of freedom
Defense of our sacred documents, conceived in blood, must be upheld at all cost Every victory over repression and tyranny demand a total commitment New England revolted because she was bathed in oppression and tyranny 'Concessions' can be tools of deception and another name for 'appeasements' Enemies of 'the free spirit of liberty and justice', must be confronted and defeated
06252019cjPoSoup
Jallianwala Bagh was an open ground surrounded by wall
Being a garden, also there was a solitary well
Unarmed men, women and kids peacefully assembled
But armored vehicles and formations were called
Oppressor arrived to act against the unarmed
Although all along all remained calmed
Shut was the only small and narrow outlet
Showered over the crowd was successive bullet
The screaming of unarmed civilians and kids was more
than to the pouring bullet sounds from positions before
Several hundreds were dead and wounded in minute
Whole India raised, resisted and revolted to revolute
This shameful chapter added insult to the injury
Set the staunch struggle solidly against colonial armory
Wounds and wailing of our warriors still echoes
With searing memory, India salutes its brave heroes
Tho’ General Dyer shamelessly unleashed the fury
The fire of bravery remains alive even after a century!
“Our angel,” Mom and Dad declared
throughout their daughter’s early years.
When she revolted, tempers flared.
Mild punishment caused bitter tears.
She ran away! Her parents’ fears
engendered searches. They would find
their teenage runaway on crack.
Without judgmental words but kind
and loving hugs, they coaxed her back,
where proper treatment does not lack.
*crack cocaine
Date: March 8, 2018
Contest Title: 10 Lines, 5 Words III
Sponsor: Laura Loo placed 3rd
April 6, 2018, entered in Emile Pinet's Non-Romantic Love Contest
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