Screams, screeches, groans and wails,
Brutalities, agonies, torture, and blood,
Tear gas, pellet guns, bullets and bombs
Humanity sobs; the world falls apart
Does anyone care?
Kids are blinded
Men are jailed
Women are molested
The old are tortured
Luckily, you have food
Billions are starving
You have a warm blanket
Trillions live under the frigid sky
Dreams are murdered
Voices go unheard
Wishes fade and blur
Every heart has become a graveyard
Sweet melodies step down
As Sighs take over the throne
Rainbow of Joy is washed away
By the deluge of tears
The soul of Humanity becomes a prey
To the endless wild forest of wars
While atrocities have robbed
Jaws of their smiles...
Yet you say the world is beautiful??
Yes, perhaps for you,
For you are at peace….
Come out of your palace
You will see….
Sky painting itself red!
Butterflies renouncing their dreams
Birds with trimmed wings
Oceans of blood,
barren trees, burnt houses,
Tear-filled eyes, and shattered bodies.
Earth is ugly
Earth is savage
Earth is a cage
Earth is but a jinxed place!
Yet, our only home,
Our only hope....
This place, less stable than an earthquake
Leaders laugh at struggles, sipping dark red Sicilian
"Where's our newest martyr going?"
Because dead kids don't talk back
But little do they know, he's slipping out
Dug a hole in his cell like he's in Alcatraz
He writes me thoughtful letters, sealed with kisses
Blood of a warlord, said his grandfather's name is known
He thinks I don't remember poor sweet Giorgio
But that's fine, I suppose, he's only looking out for me
I'll sit beside him on the leather throne one day
But dead kids can't tell stories, can they?
So, he's been staying extra hidden
That way when the guards look over their shoulders
They see nothing more than a cloud of movement
Blocks their vision better than tear gas
God, his grandkid's a genius of a young man
They used to sing about half-hanged Giorgio
Now his family, they're dancing in the limelight
Cherishing those exotic genes, perfect for heroes
Condemned to fates worse than eternal torture
Now, as we escape into the starry sky
And I lean in to kiss him
Giorgio, you've got quite the grandson
Massimo, the love of my horrid life
Blood soaked boots and napalm skies
Tear gas thrown but your tears are dry
A body lays there with open eyes
As it lets life go without a sigh
The taste of steel, the grit of sand
A steady rifle in a shaky hand
Step over the ghost of a man you once knew
Another casualty from a once solid crew
The ground is black, the air is cold
They’re barking orders—do what you’re told
Because you’re a grunt, your life has been sold
As you live to tell the tale at 18 years old
Conformity does not comfort me
Its friendly friends
with clown smiles,
beware of the guile,
beware of the bile.
Rambling repertoire
from a mouth of an asp,
subject matter
I just cannot grasp.
If following along
is the mission of most,
I cannot dance
and sing as the host.
The wolf on the lone path
the eagle soaring high
picket signs against tear gas
having the snow leopards eye.
I will stand in solidarity
these resolute individualists
the nature of their souls
has no conformity.
Tear gas policies and hate
Will never make America great
Again
Tear gas policies and hate
Will never make America great
Changing Defense to War,
Claiming to stop foreign wars,
Won’t win any peace prizes—
Just more of what the world despises.
Black helicopters and unmarked vans
Enforcing edicts across our lands;
Masks and rubber bullet diplomacy
Shouldn’t become our normalcy.
Secret police with unlawful powers,
Brutal enforcement ordered by cowards;
The rule of law squandered and subverted
To serve personal vengeance perverted.
Our Constitution tattered and torn
Needs her defenders all bravely sworn
To stand shoulder to shoulder and hold back the night:
This is our moment, our duty, our fight!
Tear gas policies and hate
Will never make America great
Again
Tear gas policies and hate
Will never make America great
When some disagree
they grab a sign and protest
tear gas would stop this.
You bombed, bombed
Now you airdrop aids
You killed, killed
God’s children
Pregnant moms
Innocent women
Poor toddlers
Weak boys and sick men
No reason
You poisoned water
You robbed, robbed
Now you want
To give sweet ice cream
To children
You are crazy
You are sick
How naughty
What a shame
How nauseating
The world is at war
This is sickening
Hypocrites
You are, yes you are
You bombed, bombed
You killed, killed
The world is at war
Humanitarian
Food, bombs and missiles.
Copyright © March 2024, Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved
Hébert Logerie is the author of several collections of poems.
Demonstrators in all riots
Aren’t at all full or half idiots:
Any fellow on Rich Diet
Most likely will remain quiet…
Idiots don’t fear Police Canister,
Whose contents are damned sinister.
Cops begin to consult Tear Gas
And vanish would even a lass;
For man fancies not Helpless Tear;
Once its source sights, to The Rear...
With Betrayers they remonstrate,
Against The Bizarre demonstrate:
Idiots don’t know when Auditors
Are Arranged Phony Monitors…
Your So-Called Idiots know the risks
In one playing too long corrupt disks:
Just The Accidental Discharge
That make rioters not in-charge;
Yet, those that voice it keep quiet:
You don’t Idiots meet in Riot.
I never heard or read that Texas slaves
were captive still, by masters so depraved,
till June nineteenth of eighteen sixty-five,
when news of freedom reached those still alive.
No passage of my school books ever claimed
there even was a day with such a name.
At forty-five, I had the chance to learn,
amid the news of riots, tear gas burns
of Black Lives Matter, president’s loud shouts,
of Juneteeth’s name and what it’s all about.
That made me ask what else about our past
does not get taught in schools, but should at last?
Who else’s triumphs over any hate
should all kids learn about and celebrate?
Tear-gas gunned.
Water-canons-shot;
Beaten...
Thrashed...
I, the unemployed
Stood before that police
One among them
Who had not got the payment himself
At least for a year
Just like me
Happened to lift his police-pole
To hit me
And when he found him facing
His own unpaid brother
Only tears could well up
In both
27 December 2021
I can see Jesus trying
to reach the citizen
caught up in the riot
plumes of tear gas
whirling around, living grace
somebody spray-painting
a slogan across his scarred back
he's taken a rock to the head
rises to his feet again and again
staggers into rat-faced alley
to catch his precious breath
a red-eyed bum dabs the blood from
his beautiful lips.
Wading back into the ignited states of America.
Finally reaching the baton line
pinballed between chestnut colored riot horses
I lose sight of holiness.
Rubber bullets and flash bombs rattle
the soul of a city on
tilt.
Tears in a revolution
Tear gas from the institution
The judge doesn't know their names
But the whole world was watching
A panther put with the bunch
Bound and gagged, with no lunch
A political trail they said was never done
They dressed as pigs, having fun
A biased look on democracy
Speak your peace, though peacefully
The billy bats swang
And heads were cracked
Revolution is in the air
Every movement tracked.
So here we are
What have we learnt?
Adjourn the trail
Let the panther free
Racism is still alive in humanity...
A red-streaked panorama graced Washington's dawn
Clear lake-blue skies there all day long
Portland smoke-gray, from tear gas and pepper spray
Antifa showed its true colors on Inauguration Day
Not a hint of outrage from the government or the press
It's alright if the fascists are left-wing, I guess
At the Inaugural Ball, attendees donned their prettiest dress
Masks muting their 'concern' over the Oregonian mess
The garden of plastic signs only blooms around election time.
Those two-legged roaches are spouting empty words.
They don't give a damn about our lives.
Where were these roaches on the Fourth of July?
I feel like pruning their signs, but it's a crime.
You can even do time.
But tear down Honest Abe, and they'll turn a blind eye.
Can't wait for the circus to leave town.
The neo-politicians juggling pins of our emotions.
Big-nosed ego clowns spitting tear gas in our faces,
Plastic flowers and empty vases they are.
Can't wait for the two-legged roaches
to crawl back into their dirty dark holes.
They bark at us to vote.
For what, A cock roach.
The art of intelligent debate is gone.
Lost in the children of the corn maze.
A generation raised by brainless boxes.
Know-it-all that really knows nothing.
Civil debate has become passe.
Now it's only my way or hell's highway.
Tear gas-bullhorns. doxing.
Up in your face is all the rage.
These little demons of anarchy.
Should be caged until humanized.
Goodness needs to take a last stand
Up in the turret of the damned.
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