VICTIMS OF THE HEART
I hate my love and it hates me, but I didn't start this fight. I went in with the best of intentions, and was given every slight.
Love don't fight fair, and it don't care, for the damage left behind. Time and again, haunting woman and man, it's not the love that's blind.
The dice are loaded, the deck is stacked, and all of the faces poker. One off the top, the queen of hearts, once again I'm dealt the joker.
This love despair has no creed, who knows where they fit. changing rules, different needs, dating apps, and TikTok feeds, enough to make you quit.
I yearn for love and solitude, both in equal parts. Love is sadistic and altruistic, we're just victims of the heart.
Well, here is the truth for you all,
since you had no idea you are a
part of one big scam called Poetry Soup
which charges you for the anthology
just so you can see your own poem,
so that means don't be upset because
you were not accepted into Anthology that
has close to a 1000 poets in it and even more poems,
they take everything and anything and pretend
like they had to read all of the works and then decide,
it is a nonsense and be happy that you did not get accepted!
My poem got accepted and i cant read it, because they want me to buy
the book just so i can see my poem in it.
Now this whole place could be a scam,
because if they can scam us through Anthology
that means they do not give three s about what we write!
Diverse Voices is a scam, Poetry soup is a scam,
the whole internet is a scam, and the only way
you will be able to accept this fact is to stop posting here,
and for over 20 years this scam has been taking our poetry
in exchange for profit of which we get 0. How is this poem for a change?
Truth hurts that is why nobody wants to hear it.
DIVERSE VOICES MY ASS!
In vibrancy my life was once enveloped;
from shadows, your sickened love developed.
With persistence, my Jericho wall fell—
my mind exploded at your quiet hell.
Love’s insanity became my deep shame;
hide-and-seek fondness—now your mastered game.
And when you finally shattered my weak heart,
I joined the list of victims on your love's lost chart.
Your sky that gave me hope soon disappeared;
the moon and stars I dreamt of, you up-speared.
You even pulled the ground out from my feet—
now my poor soul is kicked along the street.
I’m cracked and frayed in garments sewn by crack;
my vanishing sanity refuses to come back.
My mind now wanders through an endless space,
playing checkers in the devil’s dirty place.
My treasures all were powdered up and smoked;
I plundered more to keep my spirit cloaked.
You live in mansions now and ride big cars,
dressed in sweet elegance devoid of scars.
My future you killed; yours you built with flair.
You gave me a home in pure, bleak despair.
One day you’ll read this final elegy—
trust, I’ll be buried by my tragedy.
TENDER VICTIMS (Children of Gaza Contest)
Dust-covered children,
With tear-streaked faces
And bloodshot eyes.
Orphaned. Abandoned.
Offered no respite--
Empty promises and lies.
Barefoot in rubble,
Tiny hands reaching,
Covered in flies.
Surrounded by debris,
Shattered homes,
With none to hear their cries.
The six o’clock news
Tells their story--
And gets one or two sighs.
Dreams were shattered like glass shards,
As innocent lives were pushed into the jaws of death.
Some doctors, engineers, accountants, and bards,
Extinguished were the candles of their breath.
A wife was on her way to meet her spouse,
While the daughters and sons aspired to study abroad,
Alas! Fate destroyed someone's beautiful house,
As the passengers were destined to embark on a journey to God.
Shocking news that sent waves of grief,
To all the mourners of the deceased,
A plane that crashed after its departure brief,
Time itself seemed to have ceased.
Every single drop of blood is precious
And so is every soul,
Let us tear down the wall of pride and status.
Saving humanity should be our ultimate goal.
The dainty walk of Chinese women
beyond the Wall in olden days
was due to cruel and unusual punishment
confined and constrained by strange customary ways
victims of fashion prisoners of fad
small feet were in sadly big were bad
forced to wear a pair of lotus shoes
very small baby steps were all they took
altho' it wasn't until 1912 or so
when the girls were finally let off the hook
back then 'pon seeing his new-born daughter
especially when she cried
a Chinaman was bound to say
'Those toes are fit to be tied.'
The silence that envelops,
Only when peaceful,
When my heart is full enough to sleep,
Filled with the newest memories.
They are sported like new technology,
Not so limited, but loved and invested.
And I do not even dwell if I am loved because it is known.
I love them, and the word,
Love,
Is not used flippantly like those around me.
It is purer than life itself,
And it travels across my body,
Intravenous in the way is swallows me whole.
And there is no word known better to describe my obsession.
Who cares if I may see them everyday,
That their names will always remain on my mind,
All I care is that my heart still beats enough
To see them everyday.
Their laughs, hugs, nervous touches, smiles,
Gazes and dependency, it drives my heart as if
It were laced with nicotine.
Because they make me smile,
Among little in the world that is happy,
They are like pre-made lunches and fresh carnations,
Like sunflowers and washed clothes,
So clean and genuine.
Things I would have taken for granted,
I now cherish every second, because I love them.
You’re wrong.
And I wish you’d know it.
You’re not the victim,
Of some elaborate plan—
You’re just wrong.
I set my boundaries.
I set my rules,
I drew a line,
In the sand of our relationship,
And you crossed it.
Over,
And over again—
You say it was accidental,
But if that was an accident,
I don’t want to know what you think is purposeful.
Choosing delusion over reality,
Can’t be taken lightly,
For you ignoring rules,
Becomes you following a higher purpose.
You’re not the victim,
You’re the wrongdoer.
The attacker,
The anxiety in my life—
I need a break,
I need that space,
So I explained.
All of my thoughts to you,
All of those rules,
Yet instead begging for forgiveness,
You felt sorry that I was cruel,
Sorry I had set those rules,
Sorry that I thought the victim—
Wasn’t you.
The crisis in California is heartbreaking and it certainly is dire.
I donated $20.00 to the American Red Cross to help the victims of the wildfires.
I donated and I encourage you to donate too.
It will certainly be a kind thing for you to do.
The situation is horrible and there is no doubt.
Please donate to these people to help them out.
With a heart that bleeds,
With eyes that shed tears,
I weep for my people,
I offer my condolences
To those who have been wounded,
To all who have been crushed.
To grieving mothers,
To children left orphaned,
To brothers and sisters,
May God grant you strength.
May patience fill your hearts.
May God bless you all!
To those with blood-stained hands,
To those who worship only kings,
Cruel, forbidden, inhuman beings—
The curses of mothers will find you,
And the children left behind
Will cry for justice.
God alone will punish you!
Your judgment will come!
Those who commit crimes,
Those who have spilled blood—
Let them be brought before us,
Let them be judged!
Let violence cease!
Let justice reign forever!
Oh, God, accept my blessing!
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.
We see the stories on the news
Of those Hamas has killed
Or kidnapped and we think
Of all the tears that have been spilled.
To most of us, the victims
And their families remain
As strangers and it’s hard to grasp
Their terror or their pain.
A friend of mine has family,
As videos have shown.
Among the people kidnapped,
With their status still not known.
Her heart is breaking; what she feels
I cannot comprehend,
For no one can be sure just how
This tragedy will end.
Reporters give us numbers
Of the missing or the perished,
But the numbers can’t convey how much
Each one of those is cherished.
I am Freaking the F+!K OUT!
Off the hook look out I shout
Straight eyes laced with buckets of doubt
Trying to figure out what you're all about
Blood pressure high as a kite
Paranoid look left, look right
Dumbfounded your look shining not so bright
You picked the wrong victim tonight
Double backed behind a wall I hide
Me and my girl die or ride
As you pass we step by your side
The rest is a story off how you died
Bye...Bye...
As a Chorus of Angels, May you rest in Peace
The Almighty God will render you Justice
He will welcome you all in His Kingdom
Where there is more Liberty and Freedom.
You’re now done with racism, injustice, pain
Hatred, discrimination, hypocrisy and bigotry
With the grace of Jesus, your death is not in vain
God will punish the evils, and the bad seeds of this society.
Your brothers and sisters who are left behind
Will forever love you and continue to fight
On your behalf. You are the beacon, the light
Of a better tomorrow, for being so kind.
As a group, you stood in front of ugliness
Who shall never win the righteous battle
You are now sitting on the soft saddle
God will forever bless your likeness.
As a Chorus of Angels, May you rest in Peace
On a golden plate, God will render you Justice
Welcome you, and protect today and tomorrow
Your Brothers and Sisters who are in sorrow.
Copyright © June 26,2015 Logerie Hébert, All Rights Reserved
Hebert Logerie is the author of several collections of poems.
Still of weeping rank
At Blood Bank
And a Monster to tackle
In Transfusion circle;
Donors to save their pints
Or get ready to be clients
For the fiercest legal battle
That could The Bones rattle
Of their counsels: Baker or Sawyer
Widely judged “The Best Lawyer!”
Still oiling The Aids chainsaw
Whose savagery is sure:
A body violating its symmetry
And flying it to the cemetery …
Ever, The Forerunner of Wrecked Gum
That never helps a tuneful hum,
The body of victims a Leopard’s
Whereas they’re rather bipeds …
Yet to send prostitution packing
But much of its thrill sacking.
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