ego hijacked
by thoughts tactless
heart’s packed with love
What’s happening is clearly understood.
Apollo has one hand around her waist,
one predator, one quarry, interlaced.
He’s coming up behind her (which is good),
but she’s a tree (two lovers, getting wood!)
She’d rather change her state than be disgraced,
preferring to be chaste than to be chased.
She’s choosing abstinence, above life's blood.
Is love a trauma, to be undergone?
Arousal something ugly, to be faced?
Should Nature’s process be looked down upon?
The carnal act, a tactless lapse of taste?
Or might the thing be ardently embraced?
We, formless fragments, merging in The One?
Brackish nerves languish and latch
like seashells clinging to the shore—
something in the water pulls them in…
some fervor from something
Familiar and Ancient.
I’ve seen your eyes before…
on too many arresting horizons…
how light hits your features,
colliding waves of my senses,
twisting my inner bitters—
wringing them out to the tactless tide.
Bitters melt in the salts…
nerves narrow and focus.
My lit up eyes drag against tidal forces and
you’re lost—drifting love…drifts…love drifts…
Love Drift.
Those dream-drooping eyes
are too knowing—too familiar—
which makes me whimper to realize…
you’re too bright for me to handle.
The tears fall from terror taking my tragic soul
To teach a lesson to the tactless villans of
Today without remorse for the tragedy
I have witnessed
Never will I be the same after I was slain by
The knife of disdain on this wretched day
Always wished to get away from the pain
But never given the same as I pay
The power of death hangs over my head
Like a knife about to be slit but I never get
To see the light of day after what I have
Paid to rue the day I was trained
Pain holds my head under the water
As regret fills the sink to
Make me think of what crime I have
Committed on the day it rained
I will always remember the “BANG”
Of the trap like the tap of the rain
I once loved, ruined by the mistakes
Of my youth as I replay the memories
The smell of regret on my sweat
As I fret over stuff I know I can’t change,
Joined with the sound of the
Children forever young
I kick myself to feel the pain I deserve
For the pain, I have served to the
Kids in the woods I have slain
With my words
A human being needs to be educated
In order to make the world a better place
An uneducated politician or bully is a serious menace
To our vulnerable society. Ignorance is deeply rooted
In racism, violence, greed, crimes, frauds, lies and deceits
Banning or ending the department of Education
Will cause irreparable harms to the Nation
Most convicted criminals have no advance degrees
Most recidivists and racists behave like animals on the streets
Like wild tigers in the jungles, like sneaky foxes in the prairies
Most pathological liars are hardened criminals
A good or high-quality education can turn devils into angels
Choosing educated leaders are indeed paramount
Well-educated politicians are smart and benevolent
A brain needs the seeds of instruction and education
A tactless or illiterate mind can easily desolate a great Nation.
Copyright © October 2024, Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved.
Hébert Logerie is the author of numerous collections of poetry.
Cornflower eyes are selfie-less.
My copper-toned hair, conspicuous.
My playful scarf binds my cares,
Softly flits about
My windblown countenance.
I lose myself in perspicacity,
Alluring and enigmatic,
Expressive but not yielding,
Meandering through past times.
Not tactless - the mirror is gold.
Indecent exposure is snapped,
But I enhance my craft
Against my will with the permanence
Of paint, setting my eyes on the brink,
A musing on the West Yorkshire Moors.
I am more than a Muir’s ghost,
I am a sumptuous recollection of Eve.
To suffer the insults of fools is a worthless thing.
Dismiss, and disregard, unthinking, tactless fellows,
who've nothing else to do (like court jesters of a king)
than peevishly chide, rail, protest in foolish bellows!
'Tis better to give praise, tribute, and to confer fame.
Or, when laurels are scarce, offer instead your support:
sweet words incline the heart, indictments just inflame;
for good-for-nothings just blitz you as a first resort.
No Anchor for Rancor
Wounded the ship of my soul,
With tattered sails,
Heels up in malevolence,
Venom puffs out the jib
In leeward grudges of tactless spite
On a pointless reach
Heading up into retaliation.
Heart hardened sends out a deep tap root,
Like a dagger board,
For my blustering hubris
To drop an anchor and moor animosity
In a portage of perpetual whirlwinds
With undertows of enmity
Crashing about in irons of spite.
Yet steady winds rise up
And I must come about
Heading into prevailing winds
Then journey through hubris doldrums,
Sails filled fresh with newborn winds,
Orphaning rancor - breathing in forgiveness -
Sailing beneath full sails of resurrection
it's little me
I live in here
growing up I see
a life full of fear
how do I grow
doing this or that
how do I know
when I just fall flat
hello shorty
little blue eyed boy
you'll not make fourty
no mothers joy
the bully to beat
what do I do
join gang on the street
prejudice soon flew
it's little me
I live in here
growing up I see
a life full of fear
now an employers place
how far have I grown
being honest to their face
young tactless I am now known
it's little me
I live in here
growing up I see
a life full of fear
I stumble
I crash
I crumble
I thrash
then destiny's arrival
in the nick of time
she becomes my ALL
life's song now sublime
a couple of additions
more melodies to hear
some chorus renditions
and gone is the fear
it's little me
I live in here
grown up I see
life is not to fear
it's never too late
for something new
a lockdown fate
and a different view
something more
for little me
still not knowing the score
is rhyming insanity
it's little me
I live in here
grown up I see
we must persevere
in the tides of time
little me has now flown
just me and rhyme
in the twilight zone
It has been a short - lived career,
Former ones tried on Black Maria;
To soon start bearing A Pariah,
His story the same in Syria,
Which he had judged land of Moriah,
Jesus Christ leaving for Sharia
Stopped prayers for his Diarrhoea
A life of uncompleted jobs
With a strong heart that dully throbs
Two eyes that wouldn't see the snubs
And a right hand that nostrils rubs
It's a Jimmy Cliff's Foolish Pride,
So the setbacks he'd swept aside
With a radio as tireless
As its system is wireless
Reaching station of the tactless
For the funny and humorless.
Fig Leaf
“While the fig leaf traditionally covers naked shame
The fig leaf also makes a healing tea of restoration” Quote by poet.
Ducking beneath a quilt woven of the fig leaf
To sip upon a homemade brew of fig leaf tea
That soothes the inflammation
Of my humiliation to enhance
The concentrated healing of my intentions
For my unmasked vulnerability –
The exposed private parts of my simpering heart
To apply an antibiotic poultice
That eliminates toxic gaffs of conscience -
Slips of the lazy tongue,
Thoughtless raging fevers of impropriety –
To strengthen bones of humility
This poor man’s olive branch
That unclogs charity’s lifeblood
Increases flow with overflow
In warm generosity
Eliminating tactless bacteria
Reducing the temperature of shame
To recline again in sweet gardens
Of compatibility at the twilight.
4-1-22
Contest: This or That
Sponsor: Edward Ibeh
Title Chosen: Fig Leaf
The fig leaf is used to make tea with amazing antibiotic, anti-bacterial, anti-inflammatory, fever reducing, healing properties among many other positive properties.
Some oddly dully think
About their teeth that stink,
When they should’ve sounded some bell
About all not being well.
Some away choose to walk ,
When it has become the talk
And Dental Caries for chalk…
Tactless teachers of it stalk!
Folks who know a face that scowls
And far-off pain that howls;
Of winds in the forest
That understand no rest
And widows who often grieve
Wanting to finally leave…
Care for teeth not by blows,
For A Youth’s orders blood flows.
Another blazing steel
That carve wounds which don’t fully heal
Besides those of Big Brother Rape
Whose injurious clutch very few escape.
A pointing finger by forensic evidence maintained
About your grips of her blouse stained
And infuriating caresses of a waist
You were scheming to morally waste;
Playable, her taped shut-doors against your visits
And “Buzz offs” to your offered Hellos and biscuits…
Indeed, your tactless remarks of obscenity
Verging on intrigues against her chastity
In court, to you read out by a voice of steel
To your disbelieving ears all but real;
All the brooding minds around you also wrestling with the matter
While you hope or wish their suspicion won’t get fatter!
It’s a new impulse to often adjust one’s lens
And with expectoration break a silence,
Not skipped, prompt remembrances of your itching jaw
To scratch it in a manner you could never the Law.
Finally jungle
before tactless ruction, steal
in spite of the wall
Sad indeed the tears we shed in hollow marshland
streams,
bad vibes worsen childhood fears, they shatter midnight dreams,
mad at tactless ghostly jeers and oddball moonlight beams,
had my fill of twilight years when chasing eye blind schemes,
fad disowned by trendy peers who look quite miffed it seems,
glad I’m one with bright careers and happy prospect teams
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