381.
The 3 People Powers
The shadows of the past haunted the Filipino people
Tyranny, corruption & unjust leadership they tried to topple…
First through People Power 1 against the dictator
Who suppressed democracy & became the nation's terror
Second through People Power 2 against the anomalous
Who displayed immorality & became outrageously scandalous
Third through People Power 3 against the opportunist
Who reigned unjustly & became a hideous terrorist
…Through this, the Filipinos can oust their highest leader
A peaceful revolution called “People Power”!
-09/15/2015
(Dumarao)
*Philippine History Rhyme Collection
The butterfly wiggles free of its cocoon, so must I wiggle out of my own cocoon of unjustly fear.
The butterfly yet small fight its way of its small home as to reveal it self to the world, Our Heavenly Father created its home upon the trees.
Lord, from your creation this symbol of grace, mercy, shall soon fly away, upon the winds of thus earth in which your hand shall lead, a destination only you shall know..
It’s gentle wings it flaps open and close as to discreet the fluid from its belly to its thirsty wrinkled wings, slowly it blossoms into a beautiful butterfly ready to fly from the home of the trees in whom fed it, nurtured it all these past months…
Black orange wings spread wide as the angels of your words and deeds accompany her into the skies so high, let Us not weep, for we know she shall see us soon in the warm summer days,accompanied by birds and eagles as not for Gods hand in our time upon thus earth, as only for awhile, untill He calls us HOME.
Hunter simply at war,
Going to hunting games...
In hope to make stress counts,
With heavy back loads home.
Weary and waiting...
Patiently on the open field,
For wandering games;
Off care to be spared.
Many a chance;
Missed targets, cry...
Solemnly within thoughts:-
To trying or give up to still moment.
Of empty stomach,
Only fruits appetize its influence
Under the strength of fighting back...
Softly to beat past misses
Mighty is bait of thee;
Spell, patience nurtured...
Now found its hit aright that counts
Which relieved waiting worth.
How much stress, if weighed;
With agony of pain by heart,
Flying trials in free circle of danger?
Won't share unless left behind.
Suffer alone for caring sake;
Enjoy with others .
How else caring is unjustified?
Been there for family!
the words scowled
peering through the bars
imprisoned thoughts
rattling empty cups
they had been arrested
incarcerated
denied expression
unjustly accused
charged with
unfettered utterances
benign belligerence
the most heinous with
Double Entendre-ing
They all claimed to be but pawns
Innocent bystanders
Drawn into the fray
Succumbing to the wily whim of wit
Some will be shunned forever
Lurk in the shadows…waiting
Others will “clean-up” better
assume “new” meanings
Many will work behind the scenes
Savor the eerie darkness
Of language and its implied intent and meaning
For “Judgement is Mine…Sayeth the Poet”
I spent so many lonely days,
many even lonelier nights,
asking of myself
the whys and wherefores
of this terrible life.
To suffer such ignoble pains,
to be unjustly accused
of things I had not done.
I searched and sought
for reasons unknown.
Did I deserve such a life?
Or should I count the blessings,
a handful of good times?
Should I be content
with what I've received?
Can I say I'm incomplete?
That I have not achieved?
Or is there a balance somewhere
that is forever eluding me.
Do I double count ill luck?
Do I half the good old times?
I must at least be sincere-
evaluate my life complete.
Yet if it's peace I seek
I must remember
that it is not for me
to ask why this, why that,
rather admit that happiness
comes only if we accept and say
"Thy will be done".
Then I'll need to trek
uncharted roads,
fall into dark ravines;
meander through ugly days,
loiter through dreary solitary nights.
For I shall find all comfort:
the sadness I left behind.
They reside on the other side.
They bathe in fertility.
They own yard-keepers and servants;
Dogs, cats and charming plants.
They breathe the camphorated air like us,
Swallow the transparent dust,
Cross over and fall in the muddy rivers
Like our siblings living under the tiny tents.
They reside on the other side of town,
Over the mountains.
They bathe in tranquil fertility
Of the country-side.
They ignore that we are the same
And that we experience daily the same dilemmas.
One day, them and us, all of us will answer
Present deep in the river, under the karmic bridge.
P.S. This poem was originally written during my college years. Nelson Mandela was still illegally and wrongfully jailed, spending (wasting) 27 years of his heroic and precious life unjustly incarcerated. Mr. Nelson Mandela and my African brothers and sisters are the sources of my inspiration.
Copyright © circa May 1984 Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved
Hébert Logerie is the author of several books of poetry.
Maybe some of us have an inclination and are somehow aware
That there exists a foredoomed concoction of our cerebral affairs
And that there are others who are passive, masquerading in plain sight
Hiding their cascades of sorrow, behind facades of solace and smiles
Nobody knows of what escapades, that each of us were bequeathed
Yet perhaps we all know that deep down, there exists an alternative
A perplexing ringing, an insatiable itch that just won't go away
And with no concept of clarity, we unjustly gaze towards tomorrow’s hostility
Signs adorn the peripheral landscape, only their messages are wearily obsolete
Perplexities whilst disconcerting, never cause any degree of mystifying disbelief
Even though these are somewhat difficult memories, upon which we regularly reflect
Cursed are we amongst these others, undeservedly aware that the cure is the disease
It is truly with ultimate desperation that we shall endeavour never to forget
So we simply shrug this nuance aside and continually pursue the shadows tail.
Blame lands on one back,
Others walk away scot-free,
Burden unjustly.
©bfa042925
staying afar from the people I love…
the fear is starting to creep in slowly ..
at times with the sound of a phone ringing
the heart’s rhythm of mine touching the skies..
also sometimes searching unjustly,
locking your eyes at the screen
with the time blaring off behind…
speeding fast with the images
in not so kind of a mind
knowing whispers of the wind couldn’t carry
the weight of the times
for the roots spread too long
yet greedily wishing on tethering the family’s love
& anchoring the friendships,
all being away from the sea
just about helplessly hoping to hold onto,
and to never stopping myself from
casting the lines to the stars
while still steering through the squalls
awaiting whatever comes through next
John, the forerunner of Christ, preached repentance and baptized.
The wrath of God, like fire, will devour the world, he said.
Hedonistic ways of humans, by his life, he revised
Axe is on trunks, he said; by devilment, don't be misled.
The world could not accept John's teachings, as his words weren't sweet.
Do children like medicines that are not sugar coated?
He is possessed. This is why he is unable to eat.
His lamb-like life was unjustly and untimely slaughtered.
Jesus was gregarious. He loved the rich and the poor.
Did they accept him? He's a glutton and drunkard, they said.
As blind in mind, they failed to see his benignant grandeur.
As he knew their psyche, with a soft smile, he went ahead.
The ways of the world are unreasonable and absurd.
The thoughts, words, and deeds of the world, always, Jesus stirred.
Friday morning, here I stand on a hill, alone again
Trying to brave the heat and the pain
Thinking about tomorrow from the shadows of yesterday
Misty is the path of today
But I still believe that each morning brings the sunshine
That one morning when time is right, I shall be fine
For, when I die today, it's unjustly immature
Hoping to live till day of rapture
My height hurts my height,
I mean of freedom,
freedom in any angle,
mainly for my inner self.
Unjustly treated height,
opportunities between my fingers,
anger conquering my heart,
hurting that right of love,
mercilessly.
The time is near,
for heights to faint
and have no more control,
over love, trust and opportunities,
through sacrifices, sweat
and sweet fruits.
When someone condemn,
Which is not, which really not,
Unjustly a rat.
In those fearful time's by memories clear,
James McLain, a soul once gripped by fear.
Within the labyrinth of my own mind,
The Mandela effect, a twist defined.
Through unfairly, I faced a daunting fate,
Unjustly convicted by the state.
Mental tempests, an internal weight.
Florida's prisons, a brutish place a primitive place,
My resilience endured despite the state.
Fifteen years entrenched in strife,
Raped by other's most now dead.
James endured the tumult of prison life.
But within his core, a spirit resilient,
A survivor's tale, uncowardly told.
In echoes of despair, a whisper grew,
Hope emerging, a steadfast view.
Through bars and chains, my spirit free,
James McLain, triumphant decree.
With each passing day, redemption's flight,
A phoenix rising, reclaiming the light.
The Mandela effect, rewritten by grace,
James' story echoes in time and space.
Where there is injustice I remain disgraced.
Killing one another
Unjustly, mean by terror,
Horrendous error.
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