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your vase is not too much for the teacup in their hand.
you struck a match and left me putting out the fire alone.
as always, dreams turn to dust, and i'm the one to bite the lust.
maybe one day, i'll get used to it.  
is it something i should get used to?
squandered away what starts a man’s life:
dime
wine
time

if only for a better cause
is there anything to lose
really?

looking back at what ends a man’s life:
time
wine
dime

it gets better and better
till there is nothing else left to matter
it’s true.
Le navire est venu à cheval, à une heure inexacte
Notre frère-matelot, du Panthéon  des Poètes, était à son bord
Jean Pierre Basilic Dantor Frankétienne D’argent
Qui écrivait, à la hâte, le dernier acte
Se trouvait par hasard, miraculeusement sur le port
Il est monté, il est parti sans parler, sans argent
Sans ses chefs d’œuvre, sans une petite maison
C’est la vie, on part à toute saison.

Kalfou te kindeng miwo, miba ye.

Franckétienne n’est pas disparu
Il est quelque part, à Ravine-Sèche,  dans les rues
Son inspiration est dans ‘l’émission le Point’
Nous n’avons pas d’autres choix que de prendre soin
De sa mémoire, se son invention et de son imagination
Franckétienne était un génie Haïtien, poète, dramaturge, spiraliste
Ministre de la culture, faiseur de mots, chanteur, peintre et artiste
Son nom était une longue phrase
Et ses paroles faisaient rire jusqu'à l’extase.

Kalfou te kindeng miwo, miba ye.


De son vivant, il n’avait pas obtenu sa petite maison
C’était un génie légendaire qui a défié l’imagination
La dictature, l’ordinaire, l’inordinaire et l’abstraction
En devenant un mapou, un baobab. Dirait Wendell
Quel potomitan! Quelle cathédrale! Quelle citadelle!
Pour paraphraser le fils du directeur de Mac Donald
« S’il arrive que tu tombes, apprends vite à chevaucher
Ta chute, que ta chute devienne un cheval, ton cheval
Pour continuer le voyage », la randonnée.

Kalfou te kindeng miwo, miba ye.

« Chaque minute compte après cinquante ans »
Disait Franckétienne, puisqu’on peut partir
A n’importe quelle heure, à n’importe quel instant
‘Galaxie plomb gaillé’, pas trop **** du nadir
Une trace invisible sur la tète à la Valentino ou à la Tino Rossi
Frankétienne s’en est allé, l’artiste est parti
Il demeure plus que jamais un Être nouveau
Le géant, l’écrivain, le comédien, le créateur des mots
Est habillé en bretelle comme un gros blanc nègre
Pas comme un monstre de Dr. Frankenstein. Comme une pègre
Le navire est venu à cheval, c’est la mort
Qui nous menace comme si nous avions tort
Nous pleurons maintenant comme la mère
Pour cet octogénaire avancé, pour ce prince de lumière.

Kalfou te kindeng miwo, miba ye.

P.S. Un Hommage à Franckétienne et famille, à Wendell Théodore
Et compagnie,  à Radio Métropole et à tous  les Haïtiens conséquents.
J’offre mes sincères condoléances à tous. Sit ei terra levis!

Copyright © Février 2025, Hébert Logerie, Tous droits réservés
Hébert Logerie est l'auteur de plusieurs recueils de poésie.
Vida 7d
I don't wanna be around people I have to explain it too
I wanna be around people who relate
Who get it
The struggle
I want to be around people who know what it's like to get their hair braided
Who knows what it's like when People touch your hair
Who know what it's like to weigh out whether or not you should fight back
Who know what it's like to have to change your vocabulary for someone
Who know what it's like to be the mean girl

Because it is a big deal.

You don't see it because it's not you
You don't see it because it doesn't matter to you
You dont see it because you aren't me

You don't know what it's like to get your hair braided
You don't know how it feels when people toch your hair
You don't know what it's like

For me it's not just touching my hair
It's treating me like I'm some exotic thing
It's making me the me the bad guy for calling you out, because your feelings got hurt
It's making sure not to use slang so I'm not "that kind of black girl"
It's being mean for speaking out

It's being around people who you have to explain this to.
Randy Johnson Feb 11
He was very tall, he stood six feet five.
He died too young, he couldn't survive.
He wrote "The Hitchhikers Guide To The Galaxy" and some episodes of "Doctor Who".
Dying at the young age of forty-nine was tragic and that's certainly true.
He died nearly a quarter of a century ago and he won't be coming back.
He was a British man and people were sad when he died of a heart attack.
When this talented man died, it was a devastating blow.
I wish he could've lived longer but it was his time to go.
DEDICTATED TO DOUGLAS ADAMS (1952-2001) WHO DIED ON MAY 11, 2001.
Archer Jan 31
Blank pages
Scattered brain
Even greater scattered words
Slurry falls out of my skull, into my mouth
Like tumbled rocks
Schrödinger’s paragraphs
Both written and not
Until I decide to sit down
Pen in hand
Pencil in hand
Paper staring
Blankly
Eyes staring
Blankly
Scattered brain
Even greater scattered words
And thoughts
Kaiden Jan 29
"Oh to be loved by a writer"
Someone once said to me,
Not knowing they are.
Being hated by a writer is so much worse tho

(Also, i wanna be loved by a writer ****)
Madeon Jan 23
As well as the writer’s balcony
Dressed in the ruins of summer,
Autumn slides,
Crowding at the edges of wakefulness.
The still undiscovered adventure,
Sadness being beautiful.
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