Mickey Mouse,
the man who built Walt Disney's house,
unlike the wannabes and pretenders,
wore white gloves and suspenders.
At one point in time, there's was one country
As there's one earth, one rainbow and one human race
The wind, rain, smoke, and snow don't recognize
Borders or tiny plots of land that greedy leaders
Think they possess. They will always make errors
Nobody owns a country, tower, a location or a place
As one can only palaver. We can scuttlebutt and dramatize
All we want. Earth or this land is owned by nobody
This land belongs to all. We are passing by as tourists
We are all migrants or immigrants, even the racists
Or the wannabes. We are wayfarers, passengers on a boat
We own nothing. We own no land, no wind and no float
We need to make room for each other. Today is your turn
Tomorrow belongs to no one. This is something we must learn.
Copyright © June 2019, Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved
Hébert Logerie is the author of several books of poetry.
The words had no meaning
Just echoes repeating in its head
An arrogant squawking
Plumped feathers
Repeating mindless mantra
It all ended
The day he repeated
The savage shouts of
Of wingless wannabes
KILL THE PARROT
My prayers are with the young
woman thrown in into moving
traffic losing her face head after
my imposter posing as me decided
to exposed my identity as a
confidential human source who
wore wires pregnant for the fbi
buying weapons and drugs
from corrupt junk sick cops
i am truly blessed sadly persons
of power tossed informants in
front of killers this young woman
death represents the effect of
exposing confidential human
sources to killers and dealers
while my imposter hops skips
jump double Dutch on justice
meanwhile I patiently await
more death threats wannabes
of who wanna brown mort
Caitlin Who?
Girl's yet to hear a boo.
Let her play pro ball for a few years ~
GOAT wannabes cry rivers of tears
_____________________________________
Caitlin Clark just set the NCAA woman's
basketball record for most points scored.
GOAT = Greatest of All Time
NCAA = National Collegiate Athletic Association
Kingpins’ suspicions are starting to grow
Reactions are seamless for a reality show
What makes the game stirring is a crazy blindside
But I’ll pledge acceptance with honor and pride
Throwing someone under the bus is not a good idea at all
Silent watchers love betrayal; they are ready to brawl.
They say, “Viewer discretion is advised”
But the content of the truth heavily upsets me; I’m surprised.
The most difficult situations are caught on-cam
Yeah, it’s too hot to handle when emotions are slammed
But when the queen bees know how to play and pretend
The wannabes follow; they also transcend.
Anyone could show ruthless aggression to this madness
Deep inside is melancholy; There is a beat of sadness
I wish to move forward and let it slide
But everybody wants to see the dead end of the blindside
We learn from our mistakes,
From the wrong turns, we take,
From the fake friends we make,
And from the times we almost break.
Our mistakes help us grow,
But at the time, we didn't know.
We didn't want our weakness to show.
At the time, we couldn't let them know.
Our fake friends were there,
But they didn't actually care
Our secrets they would share,
And now as we pass, they just stare.
Not breaking means you're strong.
You'd know where you went wrong,
As if you weren't waiting so long
To explain yourself, but stay strong.
So here's to the liars and traitors,
All the wannabes and haters
And learning from our mistakes
And learning to spot the fakes.
Here's to being a teen
Live it up, 'cause we're living the dream.
wannabes today…
social media the fad
sharing baring all
© Harry J Horsman 2021
I remember a time
when I was just a teen
The 80s had bigger hair
Than ever's been seen
The 80s had a language
That was all it's own
Phrases I haven't used
Since I have been grown
Phrases like: "Omigod"
And "Gag, me with a spoon"
The valley girl said the word "like"
A million times before noon
There were so many groups
Back in High School
Gothic, nerds, and jocks
All of us trying to be cool.
Some of us were popular
Some of us were just wannabes
Some of us were invisible
Some were just oddities
We all were so different
Each In our own ways
High School was tough
But those really were the days
I kid you not
About the way things were
Over the years it has
Become quite a blur.
As I look back on
My life as a teen
The 80s were the best years
That has ever been seen.
8/27/2020
A river of pain runs through
the calamitous world, a mute assassin
tightens the lungs, usurping
our right to breathe, pouring day and night
its cup of poison, heralding a new
dictatorship over need -- as emergency laws proliferate
and totalitarian wannabes cherish
their moment – to tighten the tongues.
In virus's reckless trophy hunting,
we 're the helpless prey engulfed
in the bosom of helplessness, perishing
by the thousands in its vast killingfield.
Our lamentation will never satiate its
craving to devour us, as the field
grows and grows.
One day its shadow will shrink and
lose its luster, dwarfed by the
oceanic empathy, which makes us
worthy of species preservation.
The unseen serpent may have many
petri dish, yet is destined to perish
by our planetary will to survive and
reverence for life (and liberty).
The Squirrel
Agile, gray-brown fluff
burying acorns in the yarded scruff,
future mighty oak spawned nests of hope
stretched out branch trapezed along a tightrope,
chatter banter circular frolicking unfaint
tail challenge waving screech complaints,
acrobatic voyeur of the crowned aerial topography
where forest backwood wilderness rise with progeny,
to accommodate and nurture eagle wannabes.
Beware, social media's worldly platform,
Blameless, guilty wannabes shower esteem,
Heady headlines bathing in common manure.
Knowing one’s neighbour.
Selfie, groupies searching for public reason,
Poetry kindled reframed and lovers bonding,
Gossip transferred digital nonsense bemused.
Silence youth golden.
Sapphic stanza contest
Sponsor William Kekaula
Ten fingers
left and right palm pig squeezing a thief’s prayer merry
One finger
covetously dipped in the pie hole green apple gouging
Nine fingers
raven cloaked in vulture reaper robes condor circling
Two fingers
giving the universal sign of double cross peace
Eight fingers
talking black market side deal shogun spidery
Three fingers
got a pirate hook grip anchored in the purse sea
Seven fingers
be flagpole nose lying king Nero pose wannabes
Four fingers
preying mantis quotes holding the predator smile idoly
Six fingers
covered in silver serpentine tongue saliva oozing sticky
Five fingers
richly shaking down poor nations through debt slavery
Zero thumbs up
sell those Judas war coin lovers on the submarine ferry
im tired of old wannabes, trying to diss a generation they will never be,
never see, Now the leader of these wannabes is one nick trim, particularly
old and dim. the new generation is active and caring, loving, not easily scaring, and im tired of people, afraid, dissing us just because, they cant be easily missing us, and i want to make our voices heard, to stand up to an angry herd.
noone i know actually cares about actual social media affairs, so face your fears.
Response to "The Social Media Generation"
(by a 12 year old)
the chimneys teeter
held semi-erect like a
“mommy helped” gingerbread
decoration
balanced on a black canvas
artfully decorated by
Jonathan Livingston Picasso
wannabes
the miniature cityscape of a
rusted AC left to die among
more modern towers stand
nonchalant
the canvas frosting tops
a fine cakework of masonry
its valor and pride
long since diluted
betwixt pretenders –
more modern masons who
knew neither pride nor patience
yet the carefully splayed art
laid by proud callused hands still
to my eyes the same as it was
to the pointed finger of his bride
a nights rest well earned
as its relief blossoms
in the sun’s setting.
a gull peers below
as patrons never looking up
escape with proof
of their existence
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