Pundits preachers politicians
you may see
attorneys too
and even agree with me
I think you'll find
all have an agenda
with an axe to grind
lining their pockets
feathering their nest
keeping their cards
close to the chest
saying one thing
doing another
I'd take 'em out and shoot 'em
if I had my druthers
and then there's censorship
where one man's word rules the roost
to remain silent would be
a gag order self-induced
Bricusse and Newley had it right
when they wisely wrote
'Stop the world, I want to get off!'
a verbatim quote
yes, I am thankful for poetry’s gift
exuding worshipful gratitude-bliss
humbling me to praise God* for being blest
directed toward caring kindness-route
showered by heavenly fulfillment-triumph…
poetry’s bliss, blest toward triumph
Psalms 109:30 I will greatly praise the LORD with my mouth; yea, I will praise him among the multitude.
February 7, 2025
1st place, "A Personal Valentine Phoenix sixain" Poetry Writing Contest
Sponsored by Suzette Richards; judged on 2/9/2025
Phoenix sixain --- It is a 6-line verse invented by Suzette Richards (2024).
Five consecutive lines are chosen from one of older poems, verbatim.
Line 6: A word from each of these 5 lines, in sequence; therefore, a 5-word line. Rhyme and metre are optional, and the syllable count per line is irrelevant.
[The 5-line verse is from my poem, “THANKFUL FOR POETRY’S GIFT” (2024)]
Many writers, poets and academics know how a beautiful
And striking alliteration is in a grammatical, congressional
Contextual and conventional debate or literary debacle
Like: blank blind badly bounced blue bowl
Oops! I meant to quote the beautiful Congresswoman
Jasmine Crockett, word for word, verbatim; man
I can never get it right. I fell short, because I’m not tall
Enough to reach that height. Oh! Many contractual
Agreements are in the works: blank black badly bounced
Blue ball. But I’ll keep on trying over one ounce
Of Vodka, maybe I will finally get it right or correct
Ladies and gentlemen, life is never easy and perfect
However, it’s okay to have fun; politics is abysmal than ever
We hope things will not get worse, but much better.
P.S. Homage to Congresswoman Jasmine Crockett (D-Dallas, Texas):
‘Bleach Blond, Bad-Built, Butch Body”.
Copyright © July 2024, Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved.
Hébert Logerie is the author of several collections of poetry.
Ask our beloved late brother John W. Ono Lennon
He would tell you straight: ‘There’s No Heaven’
People on Earth are lunatic, crazy and flashy
They destroy or ravage everything they see
They don’t believe in brotherhood or unity
Yet they dream and aspire to live in paradise
For what? Why? That’s a farce, a prank, a disguise
They should first organize their affairs well on Earth
Before thinking or dreaming of going or flying there
They want to go to Heaven, but they’re afraid of death
They want absolute happiness, yet they’re freaking unfair
Racist, ignorant, superstitious, arrogant and jealous
Nobody can prove vere, verbatim et literatim that Heaven exists
We can talk, chat, shout, curse, rhyme and sing all we want
People are crazy, loud and gaudy. They sing, moan and rant
People always imagine or invent things that arouse desire and grandeur
Let’s start with Peace and Love, and then we’ll move up the ladder.
Copyright © July 2024, Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved.
Hébert Logerie is the author of several poetry collections.
Three women
with the same chin,
and same ears.
The last of the three
has less likeness to the others,
her eyes will not fit
within their glancing windows.
although she is almost,
she will ever be not quite.
One, the one with the chin
as soft as a pillow
I could speak to
and she would not understand my words,
but she would nod and smile
just to please me.
The other
the one with ears that match the first,
is wise, she sits on a lotus leaf
like a scintillating frog-angel,
or a green Mona Lisa.
I could speak to her and she would nod,
repeating my words verbatim.
The last lady will be the first.
Her eyes are not quite left or right,
she is dissimilar.
My interest in her is impurely plutonic,
I listen, unseen sex pods,
pop all over her nubile body.
I never see any of this,
mind hides its picture shows.
Late at night or early,
we build a tangled love nest
out of all the same things
we can think of.
though, like that Shubert symphony
It never gets finished.
Always, some old, odd twigs
cannot be woven together,
no matter how hard we try.
Truth is not an absolute
but an attitude of commitment
Throwing its blanket decidedly
over questioning and doubt
Paying deference to the moment
while blessing its intention
Choices made and choices bade
—verbatim roundabout
(Dreamsleep: July, 2023)
Located in the perfect place
Filed in transparent drawer
Unruly impediments erased
Facets interact free of flaw
Seamless system clockwork
Methods remain meticulous
Design drawn up by a doctor
Considered, inconspicuous
Routine guides a room's tidy
Itemising verbatim shelves
Briefcase organised abiding
Data struck upon first delve
Packed in precise patterns
Utility is readily predicted
Shipshape sailing on satin
Scurvy sufferers evicted
Fold exposes name brand
Recognised categorically
Regular overhauls planned
Excess viewed as slovenly
Upkeep travels compact
In zipped compartments
Disarray tends to detract
Regimented requirements
8th of **** April
My "personal" apocalypse
I lost my dreams... Yesterday
I'm always losing things.. Little things
Deliberately,
but i blame you.
Tomorrow I will be soaked to the skin
because I love the taste of rain
or just
i hate colorful umbrellas
verbatim.
I feel in my own way... The world
I don't have a mechanical system in my head,
my fingers bleed when i cut myself
while cutting prejudices from my fingernails.
I never plan anything
that's why they say I don't understand... Life
and I don't know... (I need another cigarette)
Everything they say is "right"
sounds so wrong to me
but i blame you.
Flags mean nothing to me
because I don't believe in order
senseless system
which serves a radioactive breakfast,
but if that day ever comes
to believe...
That will be the beginning
my "personal" apocalypse
Been to hell and back had a re-rack still stacked chips to pack/
Cut all slack and comeback sharper than a tack/
Your life is still intact to attack with so much tact to retract/
The dive your fate had cracked leaves you one ultimatum/
Gain yourself back and just claim him/
I don’t have to spit my thoughts verbatim for you to understand them/
What I’m portraying is I’m done playing I’ll be working through while it’s raining/
Whatever is paining be your own artist just painting your whole station/
You’ve soaked enough taint in forget evil and Satan become a saint man/
Concentrate on what you need to cultivate and gain cultivation/
Walk straight out of hate that’s there to incinerate your hearts clean start engraved/
Develop your own life art to let feelings depart and be torn apart paved/
Become stark with the spark in any masquerade wearing a mask to raid
… where ignorance is bliss, / ‘Tis folly to be wise.
Informed about the choices—
the mainstay o’ adulthood—
we often smother voices;
in good stead they have stood.
Grapple with, analyse
a destination grim:
a web of intrigue; lies
which we quote verbatim.
Some opportunities
present itself to us
with practicalities.
We often wish to cuss,
but many chances missed
in pursuit of prize.
Where ignorance is bliss,
‘tis folly to be wise.
The quote is from the final stanza of Ode on a Distant Prospect of Eton College, by Thomas Gray (1716–71).
This is an example of gnomic poetry.
Held to expectation cast by citizens
Mirror assures return of gilded grins
Ballroom brag pats his back
Dancer has handshakes lubricated
Dignitaries' approval demonstrated
Slide through sludge of embellishing
Climbing supply sets steep trajectory
Chainmail armour can't crack
Schedule transferred into twenty four
Long clock pours hour numb typhoon
Two day growth rubs grey flat reflection
Ajar loss odds conjure slam of rejection
Glass heart arbiter fears attack
Campsite composed becomes complex
Company pivot competitively, sniff index
Windswept wolf is braced for coals' ignite
Empire pain laid relabeled, corporate heist
Exposed turgid slapped by lack
Asset confines his value crushed for cash
Worthless in combustion, a city collapsed
Identical colts interrupted
Bid for counterpart acclaim
Business fortune corrupts
consecutive boys verbatim
21st February
Tycoon's Forbode
*Image of State Bar of Texas by Articles.
AUDIO: Tip; Right-click on volume then click on Loop of the drop-down menu for continuous play.
Appreciation Day
I have not yet formed my children to be,
none unique in school as to be at home,
but when worry finds me, it commonly
offers a non compos mentis syndrome.
Mainly, the boys and, remotely the girls.
We switched staff as guardian ad litem,
not verbatim, taxpayer's pigs on pearls
soliloquy, current sense farfetched 'em
boys will be boys scenario. Lord sweet,
Saviour, now the talk with the principal.
Blah, blah, got out to sources via tweet,
hence, amass based on moral principle,
they convoked pride of our alma mater.
Yea! Ah, OMGoodness, Superbus pater.
2022 January 28
*HMS; 10 syllables x 10 lines = 140 syllables
Keywords:
Non compos mentis; not sane or in one's right mind.
Guardian ad litem; ward of the State while in official capacity.
Alma mater; nourishing mother/the school, college, or university that one once attended.
Superbus pater; Proud father.
The Proseman’s¹ Guide
By the fruits of the Poeter’s vocation
The courtship of mental tinkerings & its written translation
Of one’s inner and outer feelings; a mentally intoxicating libation
Of nuances; pouring from the point of creation;
A quill, a pen…used to spell out this notation
Come alive; to form the tapestry of written constellations
For it may take time to see life’s sedimentation
And take note of a thought’s conceptualization
From beginning to end and transcribe the dictation
verbatim; to ensure there is no unwanted obfuscation
that in this process; there are interludes; brief stagnations
not seen in this polished work of written elocution;
is the exploration & experimentation not found in each line; just it’s summation
of the ebb & flow of this poetical concoction
for if this meandering of prose was archaic; it would need a furthering; illumination
and more likely than not a soft touch of preservation
and a fair bit of the Reader’s intellectual navigation
Hence, leaving the mind’s eye more open for future inspiration
-25NOV20
¹ Proseman: a prose writer —opposed to poet
https://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/proseman
Not long to go now until we are
told we will know
How the next 4 year's are bound
to pan out
As the way it's been reported on
it's almost like we have a casting
vote or have a say in it ourselves
Bering in mind however or whichever
way it pan's out it is entirely up
to them not us
I highly doubt they care what we think
anyway as they have far more pressing
problems to deal with
And when such a big deal is made
of Russian interference why or how
come we don't feel the need to but
out either
If you believe in the supposition
that the news media are the so
called all knowing visionaries
they proport to be like our very
own BBC
Then this election is moot anyway
And just how much power can
or does a President really wield
in an actual democracy
Only a Dictator who rules by
an iron fist is trully blessed
with the gift of absolute power
Ask any old ordinary folk who lives
in say Russia, China, Iran, Afghanistan
or Saudi Arabia
On the basis of if no one is looking
over there shoulder or they are
reading verbatim from a script
Pause, smile for effect praise
the leader and maybe you will
see your family again
so ...
demanding
she told me to stop
to stop 'thinking like a poet' ...
but what the hell did that mean?!?
she added unto, thusly -
'stop creating Tolkein worlds' (verbatim)
that hit home ...
any other fool with a pen would take it as compliment
but I knew her too well ...
I knew exactly what she meant
and kindness was not the dish being served
'you are not so tragic as you think', she informed me
'not so heartsick as your dragon kingdoms' ...
'or their celibate heroes' ...
(my vision and ire, flooding red)
but I am a poet, you see
not by choice or motive or even pitiful circumstance
and 'twas so easy for her to say
as my heart thrummed for naught but her
and her heart thrummed ...
for him.
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