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the state audit office claims,
emotional maturity,
social skills,
expressing yourself
are girls’ traits.

schools reward us
but not the boys —
they are traumatised,
underperform
not just because of a bra stap
but because they need
more risks, space
and maths
as if
history is feminine
and language
is something
only a girl can speak.

they said, boys need
a strategy
to prepare them
for adulthood
as if we aren’t already
living it,
patching holes
in our own lives,
carrying the world
while no one
teaches us how.

researchers however
consider it justified
to dig deeper
and find out
why boys can’t keep up
hoping to tailor a way
that fits them better.

so tailor it.
add a hem.
cut the cloth
but leave us out.
we’ve been altered enough
to their taste
since the dawn of time.
this one was written as a response to the state audit office’s pink education study.
15, September, 2025
The journey of two
not just a spark,
but the firewood,
the wind,
the tending.

It doesn’t start with matching vibes.
It starts with matching intents.
Not just chemistry,
but craft.
Two minds, two wounds,
two worlds—
and one vow to weave
instead of tear.

We hear it often:
equality, freedom, man vs woman—
But love isn’t a protest.
It’s a pact.
Not about who yields,
But who builds?
Together.

In every relationship—
romantic, professional, or even divine—
power isn’t in control,
but in contribution.
It’s holding space for a soul to unfurl
while keeping your own from shrinking.

It’s not one shining while the other waits.
It’s an alternating light.
Being the calm during their storm,
and the storm when they’ve settled into silence.

True freedom?
Isn’t standing solo.
It’s standing strong enough
to hold someone
without folding.

Respect is earned—
but in tandem.
Trust is built—
not by one,
but by both choosing.
over and over again
to rise
not above each other,
but beside.

Because the strongest bridges
aren’t made of sameness—
they’re made of differences
tied in truth,
and walked on by courage.
This piece is a call for shared accountability. True healing begins when both sides show up fully, honestly, and equally. It’s not about blame. It’s about rising together.
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.
(a tribute to becky albertalli)

i learnt english at sea,
traded my tongue
for salt and compass,
but it was becky
who brought me back to land —
when a boy fell in love
with another boy,
and his words dared me
to claim that same love
as my own.

her book lived on my nightstand,
spine worn to a gentle curve,
sentences humming in my head
until they belonged to me
as much as they belonged to her.

she offered me the strength
to feel less ashamed
of being different,
gave me a fire that burned
through the blame
i was ready to bear myself.

she gifted me with confidence
to leave my homeland
my heart outgrew,
and find my way to a place
where love was not a secret —
a shore worth swimming to.
this one is about how one book, one author changed the course of my life.
Between illusion of equality and the unjust reality lies a menagerie of misinformation
Compounded by media which controls the majority of the population
Wealth and many classes divide us into multiple sides
Partial recognition what society provides
One thinks perhaps this is a VHS rewinding faster and faster
Three-ring circus orchestrated by the government playing ringmaster
Written after reading a little Roxanne Gay
Lee Jul 21
Rules can be a taking of love for one,
Ideas created by he on spread
Few have realized it can be such fun
Different is not a word we should dread
For no love is wrong even two the same
Happiness looking disparate on all
There is but only a true way to aim
One is short as the other is some tall
A time be amused with who has to choose
when stood at the turn of a hot and warm
How it is simply unfair just to lose
And to this scheme we are not to conform
Us being here should have meant to be free
Content on this world, we shouldn't have to plea
~
Lee Of 2022
Written in 22, about being gay and exploring that though it felt shameful
Feyre Jul 20
a woman's entire existence
must be an oxymoron

"look the prettiest!"
don’t be vain.
"smile always!"
you're too naïve.
"stand tall!"
no, crouch down.
"we love a feisty girl!"
patience is a virtue.

"yes!"
no.
"Yes!"
n o .
"yes!!!"
NO.

we are a juxtaposition of
what we want,
and what is expected of us;
who we are,
and who we must be
to survive.

perfection is attained
and society satisfied
when a woman
turns herself
inside out
and
upside down.

after all,
don't you know -
opposites attract?
some days i wish a man could step in the shoes of a woman
and feel his feet bleed.
Spicy Digits Jul 16
I ducked their axe
But not the slap
The belt strap
And again and again
The razorblade
To my inner thigh
Of little maps
Flesh wounds
Like roses
I built hot memories
Warm enclosures.
Now my body
Is safe
Though not from their faith
And again and again
I am still caged
But now with longer spells
Of sunshine awake.
Spicy Digits Jul 16
You don't know me but I know you
Blue green bruises peek through
Skin so thick
Even thicker will
Anxiety, depression, insomnia
Still
When will Crazy right her
Crazy story
Blue eyed lens of a world full of
Like-friends' glory
See more of us and less of them
See more women and theys
less incel boys, scared men
You don't know me, but I know you
Yet I still hope you surprise us
One day, without abuse.
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