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boy who craves a darker shadow
not just shade, but hunger wrapped in smoke and bone,
under headlines wife’s sister’s affairs rot at the root.

hemlocked, nameless, hair knotted with cuscuta string;
ghost-vines rope his wrists like hungry knuckles.
the hollow-eyed boy carves a bar and calls it scripture,
trades green for powder, profit for blood;
he’d slit a throat before he spares a leaf.

how does that nameless leaf keep grieving?
how does it stay alive?
it roots in rot
it drinks their blood and keeps on green.
.
not a story, just the kind of rot you meet when survival forgets its manners.
I will gnaw my feet off to escape you
I will fight tooth and claw
to stop the cruelty you do

Pacifism becomes violent after a while
something must be done now
this country is absolutely vile

If your foot is on my neck I will cut down your legs
you can silence me no longer
My patience has been drunk to the dregs

taking back our land, our rights, the name of our game
Isn´t it the consequences of your actions??
What a **** shame
I am going to scream
Until you can hear my voice
Coming out of the slick screen.
Stop the odious violence!
There is too much violence and injustice,
In our lives and in our streets.
The authorities and the Police,
These days, are not there for Justice,
For all citizens in our counties and cities.
I am going to scream
That there is too much mayhem on the screen,
Too much unbearable pain for the spleen,
And too much chaos and violence in our dreams.
Stop the killings,
Stop the bombings,
Stop the evil drones,
Stop destroying the zones.
I can hear the cries of the young babies,
I can feel the pain of the innocent children,
I can see the tears of the poor women,
I can understand the weakness of strong men,
I can fully comprehend the fear of the elderlies.
Yes, I sympathize with them and their tragedies.
Yes, I can feel their emotions and maladies.
I can hear the screams
Coming from the streets.
I can hear the cries of our sisters,
I can see the blood of our brothers
All over the streets.
I can smell, feel the pain,
This is insane.
Look at the video tape,
There is a white cloth, a drape,
On a dying body.
This is sad, awful and crazy.
I can hear our people saying:
Hands up, don't shoot!
I can see other victims lying
In the streets, crying
And yelling: Do not shoot!
Nowadays, violence is everywhere.
We are soaked in a ****** terror.
This is hell on earth. It is hard to figure
Out this nonsense. There is too much violence,
And that makes no sense.
The cries of hell can pierce the eardrums.
The Police now have military stuff, bombs
Sub-machine guns, drones, tents
And they can drop atomic crumbs.
There is too much bloodshed in the neighborhood.
Stop the killings, hand out books and food,
To the people, instead of tear gas, and injustice.
Our people's lives matter.
We all had a father and a mother.
We all want to live happily in one piece,
In Peace.

Copyright© July, 2015, Hebert Logerie, All Rights Reserved
Hébert Logerie is the author of several poetry books.
The doors of the churches and the schools are closed.
No decent people are on the streets,
Where we see sad crimes and horrible abuses.
Many windshields are broken by badly thrown stones.
Violence rains in the streets and in the corridors;
No dogs or cats dared to vent outside.
A few meager birds, on the branches, stare with disdain
And amazement several thugs and charlatans with masked faces.
It is sad to see these heinous crimes. How awful!
There is a hostile war? One wonders which party will win?
We can hear the voice of an old man coming somewhere
Who shouts faintly, "We are all poor victims, sad tramps,
Who are committing suicide for bad politicians, for misers. "
Not too far, we can see a crazy woman with a close friend,
Both in rags. It's a nightmarish image that proves
That the country has become a hell on earth. On the radio, they say
That some ships of the United States Navy are in the harbor.
What are they doing on our territory? We flee,
Or we do not flee? We cannot. Everyone is in prison.
Violence snows blood on the streets of a tropical country, where fear
Reigns. Children do not dare to play in the streets, where terror
Hisses like snakes, like machine guns of the enraged demons.
No war is civil or civilized; war among the same people is also violent
And nefarious. My God, things are very bad in the streets nearby.
Violence is raining and everyone is crying. Victims are everywhere at bay,
Waiting for the arrival of the good angels, who shall come perhaps in a few months.

Copyright © June 2019, Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved.
Hébert Logerie is the author of several books of poetry.

This is a translation of the poem La Violence Pleut Dans Les Rues by Hebert Logerie
I see the sad color of racism not every other day
But every second of the hour, all minutes of the day
I see the serious mental and physical damages
That this cancer has done throughout the ages
And is still doing to our beloved human beings
The others treat our People like they are leftover beans
On a petty pet's plate. Our people deserve respect
Fairness, justice, equality, acknowledgement
Compassion, credit and better treatment
Our sisters are tired of being left out on the deck
Our siblings are often harassed senselessly, persecuted
Falsely accused and relentlessly prosecuted
At one time, they were hunted and hounded by the system
At other time, hindered and haunted by an organized medium
Created to attack, destroy, burn, ravage and annihilate
To embarrass, marginalize, ridicule, punish and discriminate
I see the color of racism, when the police for no apparent reasons
Stopped, frisked and handcuffed our homeless, our elderlies
Or our law abiding citizens, like it was open seasons
To hunt for mule deer or bears, who behave like enemies
Of the civilized society. I see the sick color of racism
When our people are not hired not for being unqualified
But because of their skin color; they're quickly disqualified
Dismissed, fired or terminated. I see the monster of cynicism
All golly minutes of the day. The arrogance is unparalleled
Beyond belief. The racists forgot that God only created one race

One human race, one human race, one **** human race.

Their false pride, their fake supremacy, their ignorance is unleveled
And their audacity is incomparable. I see the colors of racism
Not that I want to search for them, not that I want to find them
Most of the time, I simply cannot elude, evade or escape them
It is not easy to ignore the litanies of bad or negative mannerisms
The bigots easily function like virulent or venomous vipers
That **** out the emotions, and that destroy all positive characters
Our lives, Black lives, like other lives, are sacramental and important
And our contributions to the world are significant
I see the ugly and surly color of racism not every other day
But every second of the hour, every minute of the **** day.


Copyright © February 24,2015, Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved
Hébert Logerie is the author of several books of poetry.
Les portes des églises et celles des écoles sont fermées.
Aucune personne décente n'est en effet dans les rues,
Où l'on voit que des crimes abjects et des horribles abus.
Plusieurs pare-brises sont brisés par des pierres mal lancées.
La violence pleut dans les rues et dans les corridors;
On ne voit ni les chiens, ni les chats en dehors.
Des maigres oiseaux, sur les branches, avec dédain et stupeur,
Regardent plusieurs voyous et charlatans au visage masqué.
C'est triste de constater ces crimes odieux. Quelle horreur!
Il y a une guerre hostile? On se demande quel parti va gagner?
On peut entendre la voix venue d'un vieillard de quelques parts
Qui crie faiblement: « Nous sommes tous des pauvres victimes,
Des clochards, qui se suicident pour des politiciens, pour des avares. »
Pas trop ****, on peut voir une femme folle avec un ami intime,
Tous deux en haillons. C'est une image de cauchemar qui prouve
Que le pays est devenu un enfer sur la terre. A la radio, on dit
Que quelques bateaux de la Marine Américaine se trouvent
Dans la rade. Qu'est qu'ils font sur notre territoire? On fuit
Ou on ne fuit pas? On n'en peut pas. Tout le monde est en prison.
La violence neige de sang dans les rues d'un pays tropical, où la peur
Règne. Les enfants n'osent pas aller jouer dans les rues, où la terreur
Siffle comme des serpents, comme les mitraillettes des démons.
Aucune guerre n'est civile et celle d'un même peuple est aussi violente
Et diabolique. Mon Dieu, les choses vont très mal dans les rues avoisinantes.
La violence pleut et tout le monde pleure. Les sinistrés sont partout aux abois.
On attend l'arrivée des bons anges qui viendront peut-être dans quelques mois.

Copyright © Juin 2019, Hébert Logerie, Tous droits réservés.
Hébert Logerie est l'auteur de plusieurs recueils de poésie.
Tuesday, June 18, 2019
If you plant the seeds of love
You'll reap gorgeous flowers of love
And you'll see palm trees of peace
If you spray the seeds of hate
Many plants and trees
Will blossom flowers of hate
And you won't like the fate
Nobody enjoys death and miseries
Ugly, ***** and evil flowers
And people with ill manners
Love is the answer
Hate is a toxic cancer
Be positive and make sense
All the time
Is obviously not a crime
Violence is unacceptable
Peace is divine and preferable
Please use good common sense.


Copyright © May 2017, Hebert Logerie, All rights reserved
Hébert Logerie is the author of several books of poetry.
Carlo C Gomez Aug 29
~
Listen for the sirens
I'm on a highway
Along the perpendicular streets

Having escaped my killer
There's blood on the windshield
There's blood on my thoughts

The rush of song
I've experienced it all
Yet this is only track four

The night wind slices through
A fracture in me
Two sides of me
Must push on and away from here

Is there something happening
Inside that causes it all to melt?
To stick to the sidewalk?

To form into a river of transfiguration?

~
Screaming through out the room
Everyone stands
Punches land with a boom
****** noses and hands
No one moves to help
They film the carnage
blood flows from one girls scalp
Screaming like a dying baby partridge
No one cares these days
Arii Aug 21
If I were to tell you
All the stories
In my
Head,

Would you believe me
Even
If I
Said

That:

I see mortal war
Waging
In your
Plan,

I see me staring numbly
At the destruction
You are
Clad

In?

Fight me,
Fight me,
Tell another lie,

I’ll believe you
Once I die

And you close
Both my eyes.

Fight me,
Fight me,
Tell me again

That you are
Not
A foe,

But a friend.

Smite me,
Smite me,
Oh, God above.

Is my imagination
The same as your creation?

Spite me,
Spite me,
Oh, my dear friend.

Are you willing
To take me on

With your words
And not your hands?
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