Perspire, poor perspicacious?
Tenacious at the quick?
Sanguine, solemn, sagacious?
Lost lighter wheel, fine flick?
Yes, and when the autumn rain:
Turns the place to mud:
Twister. Terrible terrain.
Coat shed. Drawn in blood.
Chairs black walnut, open backs.
In a circle rest.
Fine feather-cut, trains on tracks.
Ash and smoke, pour west.
O canopy of crimson!
Thy ladies fair sparks blow!
Diadem diamond, honey dun!
Hummingbird, fly low!
Marble top, mahogany.
Tables outward curve.
Tracing white as destiny.
Vilified the verve.
Iron spouts conical?
Fire bellows breathing in.
Candelabra, port and pall.
Triangles of tin.
Project beyond thy sockets!
Blue star-shaped ornaments!
Dark night shattered, fired rockets!
Soldiers out of tents!
Concentric, calm, chiral.
Two-sided, layered thick.
Videos gone viral.
Stump oak and hickory stick.
Unfortunately, the Haitian people have everything to lose
They are very fragile, humiliated, vilified, and abused
My people have been suffering for years, for centuries
On the pavement, in the streets, in the harbor and on the high seas.
Our people, our brothers and sisters!
Their wicked leaders once in power, the liars
Change all plans to the detriment of the poor
Who are quickly forgotten in the filthy cans
Their spleen, sweat and blood flow are floating in the sewers
They are despised by hens,
By guinea fowls, by roosters, and all types of demons
It was yesterday that they were applauding like dummies,
Cheering, hoping to be awarded with crumbs and pennies.
These zealous brothers are on fire, they are now deaf and crazy
at the end. Even patience has borders and boundaries
Where greedy, covetous and corrupt officials behave like evil yeasts.
Copyright © January 23, 2016 Logerie Hébert, All Rights Reserved
Hebert Logerie is the author of several collections of poetry.
I write here against the satanic temple, co created by lucian greaves. Who have been
Allowed to post a video of ( a ritual infant murder ) otherwise called a b o r t i o n on
You-tube i beleive quite recently? I invoke
God Almighty to soften, the hardened heart' to empower those who seek fairness, and wholeness among humanity
In this misguided and wicked time..When
Evil is being promoted as benificial, and good is vilified.' And freedom of all peoples face attempts to be curtailed.'
In Jesus Name i pray.)
Vultures verify vulnerable villages,
Vacuuming value, venerating vaults.
Voters vilified, voices vetoed,
Votes vanished, victories volatile.
Visible villains veil violations,
Virtuous veterans victimized via vanity.
Vast vaults versus vacant vessels,
Value vaporized, virtue vandalized.
Vice validates violence, violence validates vice,
Vicious vortex, vicious vice.
Victims vilified, victors vindicated,
Verdicts valued via victory.
Vassals versus visionaries,
Veins vibrating, voices volcanic.
Volition versus validation,
Vital versus virtual vocation.
Verify every version.
View every veil.
Value verification versus verbal virtue-signaling.
Vision without visibility becomes voluntary blindness.
Vengeance? Vacant.
Virtue? Variable.
Victory? Valueless without volition.
Value lives via voluntary vision,
Verses vibrating with visceral veracity.
For your name’s sake Lord
My enemies cannot triumph over me
They may gather to plot destruction
And ask stupidly in their ignorance
Where is your God?
Let Him come and save you
But you God are my light and salvation
I shall fear no one
You fight for me from all sides
And so your name is glorified not vilified
At the mention your name
My enemies would quake and tremble
And give glory to whom it is due
For your name’s sake
All the earth would continue to bow
In humble adoration forever and ever
"In the fading light of evening
the sadness will dissolve..."
--- from "How", by S. J. Marks.
Ashamed, I have vilified my mother
and (even more) my father.
I greatly loved her (but not him).
Should a son speak well of parents?
After many years, pay tribute to
who gave them their existence?
But what should be the duty of
creators toward their creations?
Are, late in life, from one past 80,
these long- delayed condemnations
of neglect all justified, the angry
abuse, physical and mental?
Punishment without reason?
Even actual abandonment?
I had a drunkard always absent wino father --
and a resentful mother -- neglectful, mean --
deserving (she believed) much
much more than she was given.
So late in life to write these words.
Here they are.
How useless?
How necessary.
Today the trails have become ( wide roads )
That have lead to destruction? Now where is that
Told.? I percive it is relevent.' Though the beams
That tried to take its place..In a perverted glow
of gloom
That worm throughout this earth, state the Bible
Is a relic, as their experts age and fail, while the
' Book of God ' tells their ways ' will founder.' And will
Fail ( science of the macarbe is here ) as nightmares
Now are found, to be taught as guiding 'principles?'
At least that is what I reason, by sight and sound.'
Yet there are those who buck the trends, of circumstance and chaos.' Thomas Massie the
Kentuckyan, is showing clean heels, to crowd at
These current races, He's a man of men.' Who stood
Un-cowed the ( voice to be trusted ) when con-vid
Cowed...Vilified by those of false pride.' I give you
Thomas Massie.. may he tan their hides.'
To hell and back
and again
So much vitriol and betrayal
from perilous men
Vilified, ambushed, and
left for dead,
But little did they know you
wouldn't stay down but get up instead
RISE!
From lowly ashes to
burnished armor
Up from the wreckage___
stronger, wiser, the victor
Battle-worn now, up from the raze
Not defeated; again, you rise and amaze
Once adored by beholder,
Soiled doves, fall in no longer.
From garden to minefield,
Avoidance is justified;
Inamoured, favourably yield,
Innocence gone vilified.
Once lured by sweetness,
Penetrated, unable to flee;
Trapped inside glowness,
Choked, unable to glee.
Memories gone masterless,
History, halted unspree;
Living dead and throneless,
To be, or not to be.
Dreams Of ‘Papa’
Burning fat
off your soul
with each word
that he wrote
Every vision
a banquet
to swallow
or choke
In the ring
or arena
with blood
boiling high
A man greets
the dragon
with hello
— or goodbye
(Dreams Of Papa: May, 2025)
Sins Of Omission
Intending
to deceive
with words
unsaid
In your
silence
truth denied
What’s stays
on mute
voiced in
your head
Its
intention
— vilified
(Dreamsleep: May, 2025)
Smyllum Park
The great
deceivers
hope and affection
Leave you
a foundling
an orphan of joy
As twins
they’re conscripted
in fields of abandon
Where life takes
no solace
and heartache
— deploys
(Dreamsleep: May, 2025)
Into The Breach
Every war
is different
Every war’s
the same
Bullets fly
and soldiers die
With valor
— to rename
(Dreamsleep: May, 2025)
Crossing Over
A whispered dare
a final vow
the Rubicon behind
New Light ahead
through smoke and blood
the final victim — time
(Dreamsleep: May, 2025)
If you are neutral in situations of injustice, you have chosen the side of the oppressor – Desmond Tutu
The Trumpet of Parrots
Patriots rally to the trumpet sound,
its blare echoes the lies that bigots breed.
Perched in power, pipers, in pretence gowned,
their hatred spreads, disguised as noble creed.
They stoke the tribal fire in ancient scars,
while hissing hypes to mask the stench of greed.
Their chorus of lies taints Venus and Mars,
who like pawns follow blindly the king’s lead.
Their victims vilified and ridiculed.
Protesters branded as dregs of the state,
by troops of diehards loathsome and unschooled,
As crony capitalists preach their hate.
So, mark the flock that flaps where conscience sleeps:
A nation full of parrots gently weeps.
If poetry channels our anger and sorrow
Who then will want to write it tomorrow
And will joy and contentment stifle its future?
And what will become of our stays and culture?
I say poetry has been victimized
Vilified, chastised, castigated and ostracized
Only perceived as a tool for struggle
Truths coded for smuggle
Yet poetry is just song void of tune
From the same rock hewn
For the lyrics that ride on the harmonies
Are sponsored by poetic abilities
Only poetry captures life’s odysseys
In whose form is crafted psalms and prophecies
If you want to know an expanse exceeding now
Poetry is the where and the how
Poetry in its recitation
May not cause rhythm and gyration
Care free melodies and chimes
That people seek in easy times
Until hard times force the weaning
Where people gain taste for meaning
A complementary aid for soul searching
To set the conscience forwardly marching
If poetry must fail in the market
Then it proves not to aim for your pocket
But a stinging dart to awaken your souls
When woes and lows purge all else from their roles
K. Muitherero
I wonder.
I wonder what will happen when
all the English dictionaries are burnt
and Shakespeare is abolished
as FAR RIGHT and Racist,
and when the Beatles are
vilified for 'She Loves You'
when it should have
been 'they them love you'.
When the battle of Britain
Begs an unreserved apology.
When the British inventions
Are cast aside as imperial luck
When Europe forgets as the Russians
Have, who saved them in WW2
When people are imprisoned for
Love of these islands and free
Speech is abolished and punished
But this horror won’t happen tomorrow
No, not tomorrow, or the day after
But don’t feel reassured or complacent
Because they arrived months ago
And we all must be ready to pay.
David Cox 02/02/25
The Tariffs
here we go again, in a strong country where most workers are not unionized, but the rich are and the working class has to pay for the wealthy’s expenses, this time in the form of tariffs those who have the business of production can reduce the local market’s cost, but they will not instead, they will jack up their prices because we live in a free society where the lower order has little influence to demand better pay
There will be demonstrations against hard times, the strikers will be vilified as enemies of freedom, thrown into jail on fake charges, and called renegades, and the press will tell us they are betrayers of the American way
Yes, we have seen this before in other countries in another time, but the outcome is always more poverty, when the people are subdued and real freedom fighters are shot on the streets or, on the tabernacle of progress, peace bitter peace will ensue until the state collapses into a civil war
This weekend's reading
It appears a rare type of moss thrives on
Mars climate, soon we will see a green planet
and since one thing leads to another there
will be rabbits and foxes and perhaps sheep
We are delighted to see Maron lost his gamble
and we can look forward to sane policy
that can help end the Ukraine war by using
the trusted negotiation? Probably not
Hungary is in charge of the EU for six months
Orban, the man, is getting busy fighting
EU, democracy and hopefully win on point
but von der Leyen, the president of moss
grown countries will still be there.
a leading newspaper is glad Assange has
are free, we wilt long memories remember
when it vilified our Julian, but we will be
magnanimous and forgive the written
sometimes an editor has to bend to the will
of shareholders
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