I wish I could plug
A flash drive in your ear.
I would wipe clean the worries
Hidden deep inside there.
I know they've been hiding
In camouflaged space.
Your very own virus
firmly in place.
Spreading infection
Every which way.
Squeezing the happy
Right out of the way.
It's time to recover,
Diminish your pain.
Pick up your tools.
Reclaim your domain.
Before long, I promise,
With daily scans,
You'll reboot and function
With plenty of ram.
I sink deep into the unhappiness of being the one who doesn't deceive you with sweet illusions,
I refuse to change who I am for anyone, even for the shadows that surround me.
I've detested how easily you allow yourself to be manipulated to accept everything you hear without question,
Have I not left a strong enough impression, or are you so easily deceived?
I've dug deep into the lies told, like hot tea that never cools,
I know myself, and that's what matters; it's a truth I carry within my soul.
I don't explain myself, because if you are the one meant for me, you would know me from my sigh and my gaze,
Was I wrong about you, or were you the one who was mistaken about me?
It's a dance between truth and illusions, a search for meaning in eyes that refuse to see,
I remain true to myself, navigating through the shadows of day and night, unwavering.
each sleight is the haunt
of some evicted ghost.
grieving me a life of greater pain;
I see pieces of people passing,
drifting into the footsteps
of another's future.
I feel the rough sandpaper surface
of the concrete bridge
as I prepare to jump.
For a moment my heart slumps.
It takes the smallest of memories
to interrupt a courage.
I thought each flower finer
in a different way,
if there’s a word for that,
I cannot say.
Far more acute
than any thing precise,
far more astute
than scholarly advice.
Is there a right kind of poetry?
In a room far away
behind a desk in an office,
someone else decides.
Painful being in love
Headaches, heartaches and sorrow
It is Hell on Earth.
Copyright © December 2023, Hébert Logerie, all rights reserved.
Hébert Logerie is the author of several collections of poems.
pork
If eat just one slice
If just smell it
If see the smoke
to be baked
it'll be allergic to it.
Unhappiness.
In fact,
there are many things
even if eat just one piece
just smell it
if see the smoke
to be baked
that makes feel good it.
Happiness.
It’s an issue when I say something,
but also when I don’t.
There’s a problem with when I eat,
but also when I don’t.
Someone always has something to say,
or looks to throw.
No-one looks at what they do,
just at what everyone else does.
Oh, unhappiness,
you relentless tormentor of my heart and mind,
forgive me for I have never thought to thank you for
your presence in my life
but
I have just come to realize that, without your bitter presence,
none of the sweet instances of happiness, I would have been
able to enjoy!
© Demetrios Trifiatis
08 June 2022
Unhappiness is such an unnecessary drag
It pulls one down to the depths of despair,
Not something about which one will brag
Unhappiness is such an unnecessary drag,
Disgusting as a limp, damp old wash rag
If someone is unhappy, I really do care,
Unhappiness is such an unnecessary drag
It pulls one down to the depths of despair.
written December 24, 2021
Some people are so
unhappy that if they
did not exist
would be a way of
happiness...
Depression's distant cousin
invited to stay awhile.
Clouds of gray block the sunshine,
smothering its rays
Date written: 06/17/2021
Passive in aggression all melted into the wax
The fire isn't burning the flame is not a match
Depression is a reason for those who can not hate
The wind it isn't moving but the chimes reverberate
Active in this searching of this mate for your soul
The ground it is trembling opened up and swallowed whole
Submission from intention proves the guilty only lie
The world is unforgiven there's no God within our sky
bmdavey@2/7/21
Can you hear it?
Not that anybody presses so,
But still,
There they are.
Their obnoxious shouting,
With twitching countenances,
A purely inconceivable demeanor
Consisting of nothing
But insanity,
Lust,
And overall
Ravenousness.
They used to walk,
Walk inside,
And back out again
Ever so orderly.
Gloriously gallant guards
Protecting the central base
Of their livelihood.
Now,
They scramble
Writhing,
Self-penalizing,
Wriggling with utter chaos
As the lot of anxious,
Swinish abominations
That we now realize they are.
That we are.
When I am dissatisfied with someone or something
I look within and know I am really dissatisfied with me.
I need a new hobby, a new friend, a new job, a new something
So I begin to go to work
One day when I was dissatisfied I thought “What about poetry?”
I had written a poem six or seven years before.
One poem. Not two, just one.
I have no idea why I stopped there.
So I found a poetry site and I began to write poems.
Now when I look back at those first “poems” I laugh.
They were not poems at all, but really short stories.
The commenters were generous and kind to me though.
Now I have over seven thousand poems, and I love writing poetry.
All because I was dissatisfied on a Thursday during parent-teacher conference
When I had nothing to do for eight hours, because….
No one wants to see the counselor. No one.
buildings hide sorrow
stones will never protect them
inside damage first
Understand the reasons this feeling is to remain
Negativity runs rapid, skin flushed with blame
Hopes, dreams, and nightmares, are all the same
Agonizing within all of the outside of my pain
Pretending the effect has no bearing at all
Pretending that someone will catch me if I fall
Ignorance is bliss well not in unhappiness
Never did I ever want to ever feel like this
Eternal path chosen was never a choice for me
Silence...I am broken, I will never be set free
Still living in unhappiness...unhappily...
bmdavey@06/07/18
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