I do not need fire
To burn you down.
I do not need a sword
To cut you down.
My words are my weapon
They are potent enough.
I do not need claws
To leave bleeding wounds.
Nor sharp teeth
To bite & mark you as my own.
My silent treatment is my weapon
And it's potent enough.
My intentions are cloaked
&
My apologies calculated.
My steps are pre planned
&
My words well measured.
I don't need bullets
To make you compliant
My fake smile & practised tears are my allies
And they are potent enough.
~ PoeticSoul
The weapons of mass destruction, is in the hearts of men,
living in the darkness, festering up our sin.
When hate, hurt, and anger, are the stressors of our day,
when our hearts are disturbed, the world is gonna pay.
All these things are boiling, stirring in the heart,
the weapons of mass destruction, about to do it’s part.
Anger, hatred, and revenge, begins to take it’s form,
arising up inside us, is a very toxic storm.
The power of our words, the weights that they bare,
weapons of mass destruction, now flying in the air.
There is power of life and death, in our tongues you see,
with weapons of mass destruction, we destroy both you and me.
Shhh.!!! we must ed-ucate our bogans.?
For they'll battle better ( than any army Trojan')
All I want is peace and peace
In the west, in the east
In the north and the south
To close your mouth
When you're happy
To stop the misery
During the passage
We only need one page
To express our feelings and pain
All we need is PEACE. We die in vain
Every single day
Yes, we need to pray
More and more often
So we can go to heaven
When we die
This is no lie
We can smell a new year
Let's start a new prayer
All we want is to have PEACE
On top of the list
All we need is Universal World Peace
And to leave this earth in one piece
While having a glitzy feast
No drones, no bullets, no wars, no lies, no tragedies
No guns, no deadly bombs, no cannons and no bullies.
Copyright © December 2018, Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved
Hébert Logerie is the author of several books of poetry.
This life is a fierce battlefield,
Little did I know before my birth,
My weapons should have been better honed,
So no earthly force could conquer me.
Friends I made while I was nobody,
Turned to foes when I sought to be somebody,
Those I loved with all my heart and soul
Blew pepper in my eyes when vision blurred.
Deceit comes robed in sheep's clothing,
But in its mouth lie poisonous fangs,
Mental torture is their specialty –
They wield it without a flicker of remorse.
When I wept from the pains they inflicted,
They dried my tears with clean handkerchiefs,
Their smiles conceal their bitter hearts,
Veiled in peace, their souls steeped in a vile bile.
Why were some people made just to hate?
They rejoice when they see their friends cry,
They are logs happier as stumbling blocks.
Than as bridges across a stormy river.
Had I come with my own weapons,
Their jugular would have been severed
To drain their wickedness till dry,
To purge their hearts of bitterness till empty,
And plant in their minds true love to grow.
Citizens, weapons practice,
Refugeees, seeking homes,
Think globally, guys,
Evolving ceasefires---grand.
Citizens, weapons practice,
Refugees, seeking homes,
Think globally, guys,
Evolving ceasefires--grand.
There is not always rain
Along with the thunder
There is not always bite
Along with the bark
There is not always oxygen
When we go under
Not always a devil
Along with the dark
But we can always count on,
Along with the sorrow,
Laughter and joy joining this life
We can always count on,
Along with the blood shed,
Somewhere, a sharp wicked knife
We can always count on
These weapons of warfare
Harmless until held in our hands
We can always count on
Having our fair share
The wicked intent of mortal man
There will be a rainbow
Along with the thunder
Along with the lightning
The still waters of night
There will be such beauty
After all blows asunder
Along with the blindness
A great, glorious sight
Like military would want
to keep part of the Kam-kam
house for a reason I can't
tell at the moment.
But, I asked did the glee
world knows the implications
or somehow the ethical something
that may be there is in?.
Or let take for instance the
mysterious mermaid or fantasy of
spider.
It seems like each an everyday
the world is busy bugging
or behold watching to make a
better living or livelihood.
To be frank what is there sweet
for man in insinuating evil wars?.
Is not that the world ever
can mould or this somehow now
that is moulding today?, not even for it
to step aside or in the long run
remember and fancy anything
maybe otherwise again?.
Do we know whether sometimes
weapons are beautiful and in case
can rock the heart and yonder
arm the mind to grow firmer
to grow stronger and the world
let say here or there?.
"Four"
Four
With that word, the world came to an end
In flames of nuclear power
That man did send
Death
Swept through Eastasia and Eurasia
The scale was tipped by one last breath
Oceania’s
Pride
Three
Three giants threw spears at each other
A scorching war destined to be
And Big Brother
Died
Nuclear sunlight beamed through cracked glass
Waking up the proles, who soon cried
Seeing the grass
Two
Two strayed partners, ready to relive
The proles, the remade Eden due
One choice to live
Vicious and mean
Immoral intent
Loudly and impulsively
Expressed through
Wicked words
Offensive and ominous
Repulsive in nature
Delivered and unjustifiably
Spoken
Words are cures and killers.
Each flick of tongue or wrist, there lies a decision,
Twin pillars:
Heal and maim.
Will you build new dawns or prisons?
Self-same
You, them:
Applied visions,
Prey?
Words are cures and killers
Will you build new dawns or prisons?
Pray?
All poems are unfinished
Only those in sonnet are finished
Completed, done, and terminated
A poem can still be edited
Revised, retouched and rewritten
A poem is a powerful tool or weapon
Leave alone my unfinished poems
These are my spices, my stars, my emblems
You don't understand their symbols
And the words used to fill up the bowls
You just have to read my poems ten times
To fully comprehend them. Ignore the rhymes
To pay more attention to the vernacular
They are not bizarre; they are just particular
They are not regular; they are unfinished
They are not strange, they are simple. Kabish!
Copyright © July 2019, Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved
Hébert Logerie is the author of several books of poetry.
As we sailed the fast river of Rhône
the steady sun bleached it a sparkling gold
like the treasures of Caesar’s kingdom
A curtain of fawn-silken tackle, shaded
back the fervidly garish star scatter,
and cooling flower-scented airs tickled
the senses like touching down-soft silk
"zhuang hong zhuang sheng" (Chinese)
“Put on airs’ - Peter and I are Gatsby gilded.
Why not dress - on luminous forenoons?
Pick a heart, any heart and prick it, sharply,
with the sight of a handsome man.
I yet breathless, breathe
What weapon is sharper than libido?
I defend myself, with fashion’s sartorial sparkle.
Frankly, I was hoping for something passively erotic,
you know, foment a false perception - dazzle
with fancy outwork to tip the cosmic balance
Men will witness what they believe
.
.
song for this:
Desperately Trying by Club des Belugas, Anna Luca
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