#emancipation
The cadenza of life is its \
magistry. \
What is life? \
What is love? \
What is liberty \
without embrace \
& without freedom \
Emancipation \
is our sacral birthright. \
Mankind & womankind \
must not live life captive \
to their desires & yearnings\
This path \
would be onerous \
& burdensome to the spirit & soul that —pines for liberty. \
However, we must cleave to the light for the light is aeonic, is mystic, is sempiternal, is eternal, is kingly. \
—The Cosmo-Plexus of Empyreal Love is calling. \
(—Se’ lah)\
Feb 23, 2025
Feb 23, 2025 at 11:36 PM UTC
I was made by the wind
and the wind come carry me
carry me to the place where I belong
carry me cross a field
carry me cross the floor
from my birth to my grave when I'm gone
carry me by golden leaves
carried by an ocean breeze
I was lit by a flame
and by flame you will take me
to the beyond I will follow you
By a leap from my heart
out of the darkest of nights
to the brightest of days
I will embrace you
and kiss you farewell
I was born from a wave
a wave of love and labour
when I was washed ashore
you pulled me out
and I slept on your brest
my hands grew a hide
as I looked deep into you
I was brought to this earth
as a seed of life
as I buried my hands in the ground
I would wait for you to grow
into a beautiful being
reaching into the sky
with your green arms
to catch these last rays
of golden light
from a setting sun
I was kissed by the sun
with arms of golden light
I was shaped from the tears
running down my face
as I have to say goodbye to you my friend
You had a home in my heart
I only saw you in flashes
in the in-between
I was kissed by the sun
with arms of golden light
May 22, 2025
May 22, 2025 at 1:48 AM UTC
I stepped out — to buy some bread.
The rain, a silver needle, embroidering the diaphanous gauze of the atmosphere.
Thoughts, like feral hounds, prowled and dragged me
astray, to the wrong street.
And there —
the abyss.
No grocery here.
Only the void, yawning wide, insatiable, ravenous,
a Grand Canyon, misplaced in the geometric monotony
of concrete blocks — a scar on the skin of the ordinary.
Who sanctioned this?
Who gouged this chasm into the fabric of the mundane,
this rupture in the tapestry of the everyday?
We inhabit a world where everything
appears to matter —
blueprints, ideals, the ceaseless scramble for triumph,
the Sisyphean climb toward some illusory summit.
But time, that insidious thief, that silent eroder,
dissolves it all into the silt of oblivion.
What endures?
Laughter.
Laughter — not mirth, but a gasp,
a surrender to the absurd, a white flag waved
at the futility of it all.
It is the sound of a man
teetering on the precipice,
howling into the void
and hearing only his own echo reverberate,
a hollow chorus of his own insignificance.
But nothing matters only
when you are solitary,
when the world contracts to the size of your skull.
No wife, no child, no anniversaries to commemorate.
No one to observe, to decipher, to adore.
Laughter then is not liberation —
it is the wail of the forsaken,
the cry of a soul unmoored, adrift in the vast, indifferent sea.
Imagine the edge.
The abyss below, fathomless, voracious,
its maw gaping, hungry for meaning.
You can shriek, sob, summon aid —
but no one answers.
And so you laugh.
Not because it is droll,
but because it is the sole retort left to you,
the last weapon in your arsenal against the void.
If we cannot alter anything —
if the gears of fate grind on, indifferent to our pleas —
why even endeavor?
Insignificance is not a curse.
It is a peculiar emancipation,
a shedding of the weight of expectation.
Your blunders, your trepidations, your aspirations—
they are sandcastles, ephemeral and frail,
washed away by the tide of eternity.
Yet there is splendor in the act of construction,
in the fleeting defiance of entropy.
Even stone crumbles.
Even the most impregnable bastions succumb to time’s relentless siege.
Laughter cannot nourish the famished,
cannot solace the lovelorn.
It is a spark, evanescent,
a brief luminescence in the abyssal dark,
a fleeting exertion to convince yourself
that anguish and torment are illusory,
that the weight of existence is but a shadow on the wall.
And it is, perversely, amusing.
Mar 18, 2025
Mar 18, 2025 at 9:04 PM UTC
Bon appétit to all my fellow Haitians and friends,
Who'll be drinking, sipping, savoring Soup Joumou,
Which is made of squash, neck bones, macaroni, oxtails,
Carrots, yams, celery, parsley, and countless vegetables.
This is a powerful, yet historical soup,
With a strong message. This tradition
Started after the Battle of Vertières,
When the Haitian Army defeated the French.
Haiti fought and won its Independence,
On January 1st. 1804 in Gonaives, Haiti,
And became the very first Black Republic
In the world. Believe me, this is amazing.
Soup Joumou, yellow squash symbolizes Respect, Freedom,
Independence, Peace, Pride, Equality and Liberty. It stands
Against slavery, bigotry, racism, unfairness, lies, injustice,
White supremacy, nepotism, inequality and prejudice.
Our Haitian ancestors could not consume such a delicacy
Before, where only the Colonists, the Affranchis
Or the Freedmen could enjoy. The defeat of Gen. Rochambeau
By General Jean Jacques Dessalines had changed the entire scenario.
Please join all Haitians throughout the world by drinking,
Eating and savoring 'Soup Joumou', the Haitian squash soup,
On the first day of every year. Celebrate in memories of strong men,
And women who fought for Liberty, Equality and Fraternity.
Please read the history of the mysterious island of Haiti,
To enhance your knowledge of the world's history.
The Haitian People, in spite of constant internal fights,
Are strong, resilient, friendly, funny and intelligent.
Copyright © December 2016 Logerie Hébert, All Rights Reserved
Hebert Logerie is the author of several collections of poems.
Dec 30, 2024
Dec 30, 2024 at 9:16 PM UTC
~Together we exhaust each other’s senses
feeding off carnal needs and desires
made sinful by frigid disasters
~Time has nothing on two who have
suffered from a cruel separation
due to fear of crucifixion
~Your taste lingers inside my mouth
while the memory of feeling the beat
of your heart surge through your staff
~Selfish am I too have kissed your entire
body just to inhale every intense release
of your body's purging taste on my buds
~Still it was you
you finally getting what you wanted
you taking those black lace *******
in your hand and ripping them down
while plunging deep inside the heaven
you came to over and over in dreams
~Spent you and I
Exhausted but never over
Our imprint is inside us both
~Tell that to our haters....
Jan 13, 2024
Jan 13, 2024 at 1:15 PM UTC
#
You have to stop giving it so much 'power'
beautiful girl..
It only knows to do
what it knows how to do--
(And be, what it was formed, to be).
And if you go through life
never feeling the deep value
of your beautiful, True core
In the end, you will not
be held, accountable...
--which is the very reason
for your current 'squatter's creation
..I see you.❤
#
Dec 16, 2021
Dec 16, 2021 at 11:45 PM UTC
The earth feels small,
loosing size constantly as the sun lowers herself
the world is immersed in her ****** streams of warmth.
It is fading
the sky becomes stronger, rocks us in the darkness of minor stars
- so big, so far away.
They matter so little
It is far away, yet so big.
We think of it as little.
What do they think of us?
Stars are suns
But are they all the same?
Millions are sweeping around the universes
so big
So hot
Far away
Looking small
They are hiding their meaning
.. You have to find it
Do you want it?
The stars are suns
So small
But they are big
If we let them be
If we explore their truth
Do we mind the darkness around them?
Do you see it?
Our eyes are meant to find light
We focus
Nobody minds
Nobody wants to find darkness
We are all looking for another sun
Lost in the cloak of darkness we want to escape from
Shooting stars.
Apr 11, 2021
Apr 11, 2021 at 5:11 AM UTC
Monday, January 27th, 2020
The crux of spiritual efflorescence originates from the seat of the soul. The self is the nexus to transcendence. Humanity has historically looked outside of itself for the change it hopes to sire.
We must ameliorate our ailed cognition before our words can wax healing. When we genuinely ease the suffering within, light shall exude & emanate from our entities. Therefore, introspection, a spiritual mandate, is enquired from the firmaments.
Though pain can at times burnish a fervid sting upon our sensory crux, we must allow this to penetrate us fully. Before the healing can genuinely burgeon, angst must take its course. Moreover, layers of hurt must be processed before reaching our luminescent heart.
The Heavensward loves us aeonically so: Jah, the Cosmo- Plexus of Empyreal Love. Therefore, trust that in the silence of solitude, our spirits will be dovetailed with the Most High God. The Great Apothecary knows our maladies. The God of Freedom is also conscious of the instant upon which to unfurl manumission.
Liberty, or much of freedom, finds its inception upon the Mind's Sky. How can we be free unless we truly fathom it to be? What a fallacy, a probabilistic impossibility! Without awareness, one cannot seize that which is rightfully —their birthright.
Trust that you are free and always be just so. When you do, no soul will be able to expostulate otherwise. Belief, therefore, is power, is emancipation.
Love endlessly. Liberty never leaves the one who bathes in the Baptistery of Esprit d' Amour. Know your worthiness to honor, heartsease, what's more, the grace, the virtue, & the excellency of life. Carry on, surrender naught, fight the fine fight, run fully the race. —Se' lah.
Rise Heavensward,
Transcend fear & doubt,
Banish all hesitation,
Elysium is Within,
Jan 29, 2020
Jan 29, 2020 at 8:46 PM UTC
I'm a black man , I'm the essence of toughness
My roots are deep like the mighty baobab tree
Once a chained slave, today I stand in greatness
I'm a black man , I'm a proud man and I'm free .
I'm a black man , once the master's possession
I have scars stamped to my soul but I'm free
Once a cotton picker , I now have a profession
I'm a black man , a very proud man and I'm here.
I m a black man , the first born of mama Ebone
The black Goddess , the true mother of humanity
Once upon a time in jubaru, I sat upon a throne
Where my queens and warriors all lived in unity.
I'm a black man, I will always be the best runner
Shoot me if you will but my black soul fears no guns
Once like Garvey, today like Usine and Obama , I'm a winner
I'm a free black man and my soul hosts a thousand suns .
Jan 9, 2018
Jan 9, 2018 at 11:06 AM UTC
When I met you in the pub that night,
The movement and the way you sauntered over,
It was so clearly pre-defined.
The way that you held your hand out,
The over the top air kiss,
Too effortlessly refined.
Later into the night the drugs imbibed,
Drinks convivially consumed,
The space between us lost.
Time disappears down,
Some rabbit hole,
At some unsaid noir mutual cost.
The pint shoved with jovial force,
From the slick wet bar,
Into my waiting hand.
The coked-up person,
Backing me into a corner,
Reassuring me that they totally understand.
And whilst my malnourished ribs,
Are digging uncomfortably,
Into your hard ***** floor.
There are things that I would,
Say to you,
If bravery mistook me for more.
You consume me with,
Your entire world,
Whilst mine just ebbs away.
My voice gets quiet,
And agreeable,
I forget that I had anything worthwhile to say.
This world takes the very guts of me,
With every wrap of drugs that I see.
And that girl slipping away in the mirror,
Is becoming so very different from me.
With every drink fuelled choice,
Each line of drugs,
Each night that I see reappear as day.
The feeling submerges,
From the depth of me,
That this life is not ok.
Whilst I can try and lay the blame,
Of my gradual downfall,
At the feet of some charismatic few.
It’s some personal emancipation,
That will allow me to start my again life,
With a sanguine view.
As I disappear down the rabbit hole,
For what I tell myself,
Is one last epic fall.
I hope that the person,
Who appears on the other side,
Is strong enough to walk away and leave it all.
Oct 13, 2017
Oct 13, 2017 at 9:19 AM UTC
the cold would send little snow drops
trickling down my spine
dancing and singing praise to the moonlight
gestures of repentance despite knowing my damnation I continue to sit there, looking for my salvation
But with the icy cold drops, that warm me
and a look back into my bitter stained history
i have released and accepted what has always
been known to me
that salvation and emancipation has only been a dream
Jul 24, 2017
Jul 24, 2017 at 4:07 AM UTC
If being stripped of liberty,
We owe no responsibility
To tethering our ties
To a system of lies.
Insanity, defined,
If we choose to read,
Means working to thrive
Through ways we won't succeed.
The system is broken.
Turn off the machine.
If doubt has not awoken,
Ask yourself, please:
Do you question many things
That you hear spoken?
Do you admit your own views
May contain false notions?
Does our culture retain
Unnecessary devotions?
Is government improving,
Bringing peace across oceans?
Emancipate from demands
Of societal bands.
Renounce the commands
And requests that don't stand
The test of your ability
To reason with civility.
A question is a "quest I on"
Not a destination.
It leads to many places.
Go ahead. Try it on.
Nov 19, 2016
Nov 19, 2016 at 1:11 AM UTC
What is to come?
From a world where our children are given guns to play with,
It’s not the squirting of water,or release of plastic bullets, it’s the message we shoot into their heads .
Triggering violence from adolescence.
Planting seeds of hate,
And watering them with spilled blood .
Waiting for the fruit to ripen, but it never does,
Now we have the taste of bitterness lingering on our mouths.
That bitterness stays on our tongues ,
So that when we speak, that’s all that comes out.
You see Somehow the fruit is never as sweet as when it’s forbidden.
Sugared by sin,
Borrowed from thy neighbor, because when it’s sin there’s always enough to go around.
What is to come?
From a world where we are told to express ourselves , but within the guidelines.
Told that the world is your canvas , but restricted to only the color white.
It isn’t as pure as it seems.
Underneath the white paint lies splashes of read , gushing from a black body.
There is no canvas, all we are given is a painted picture, of what perfect looks like.
So that we Erase anything that doesn’t fit the image.
The slightest difference is reason for war.
Be it the quantity of melanin
Be it religion
Be it Gender.
What is to come?
Of a world that is only tolerable through the shade of intoxication .
Where pills serve as capsules of happiness
We are our biggest enemy,
Our pain is self inflected.
If this is what it is ,to be human
What is the cure?
Jul 8, 2016
Jul 8, 2016 at 11:09 PM UTC
2am juices,
I’m pouring myself onto this canvas
Let’s have a glass..
Off myself uncensored…
My canvas black and white
Like stars in the night
Can you hear them shooting?
Splashes of red, gushing out the wounds
Ancestors rising out the tombs…
What are you willing to sacrifice?
They say life is a gamble, except somebody already threw the dice..
We are slaves to the forces …
Married to a chosen fate ,without room for divorces…
You see The canvas …has been painted
All that’s left,
Is for you to open the doors that frame it..
Jun 14, 2016
Jun 14, 2016 at 7:24 PM UTC
I met a Prince
He taught me that princes don't alway charm
No fairytales...he was as real as the sound of my alarm
I woke up
Realized that sometimes a Kiss from a Princess isn't enough
To break the walls of insecurity the world built so tough
I met a Prince...
He taught me that princes don't always charm ...
He ,like the rest of us had the world do him harm...
Crowned by thorns
Monsters are made
Not born ...
I met a prince
He taught me that princes don't always charm
The world isn't conducive for charm to bloom in...
He wore a crown of imperfections but that made him human.
He proved that fairytales don't exist
But I learned to see beauty in the beast.
Apr 30, 2016
Apr 30, 2016 at 8:03 PM UTC
Dear Grim Reaper
You and me had a love child
But you took custody
I still think about her sometimes when I let my mind get wild
I let the memories overcome me in all their rhapsody
I remember how I would curl up in her cold embrace
Beautiful as ever...like death had a face
She promised to rid from me
All of the worlds pain
Convinced me that the worlds loss was my gain...
Dear Grim Reaper
You and I had a secret I swore I'd never tell
But its hard to live on in hell
I killed a man to find freedom in a prison cell
Oh well
Bring me my child, bring me death
In all her glory and her wreath
Tell her I wrote her in my will
And I give her my final breath...
Apr 30, 2016
Apr 30, 2016 at 7:58 PM UTC
I have a quest,a suppress urge,
To dance under the moonlit night.
Madly.Beautifully.Rhythmically,
To a song being played in our hearts.
Hand in hand,embracing and dancing.
I have my hair loose,swaying on your face.
As I dance to the tunes of emancipation.
I find myself in your arms,safe n secure.
For I've found the man who has set me free.
Apr 27, 2016
Apr 27, 2016 at 12:06 PM UTC
What if the constant smoking and drinking aren't just a temporary escape ?
Rather a quicker means to reach the true escape ...
Who drank my beer?
When I had death so near.
Now I have to face the rejection of society like I'm a soldier
Constantly at war with myself...trying to figure out who I should be today.
Battling my demons and sometimes yours too
Building up walls to defend myself from myself
But I keep falling and bruising my ego
Who drank my beer?
When I had death so near
Pleasure filled poison on my lips
The only life support I need in my drips.
Three cheers to making it this far...
Let the beer take one more sip of life from me.
Apr 10, 2016
Apr 10, 2016 at 7:57 PM UTC
I made a wish upon a falling star
I fell too
And as you descended from the sky I prepared to catch you
Weak knees ,I seem to have caught
Feelings.
***** love nothing but a taboo
That's until I met you
Rumored intimacy you made true.
I'm under your spell,I'm devoured.
By your corroding touch,consumed by the fairytale in you eyes I'm enamored.
As far as hearts go ,you are the winner
Of mine
Like I lost you in a different lifetime
My glass slipper
A perfect fit, perfect pair
Emotions invested, I make you my heir
All of me is yours for the taking
My heart, yours for the breaking
But Don't .
Apr 10, 2016
Apr 10, 2016 at 7:54 PM UTC
I passed by your old house today,
A sudden rush came over me as memories filled my head.
Memories of a simpler time.
And how we would play our childish games to enjoy the fruits of our youth. Then an angel would call from inside and ask if we wanted to eat or if she should get us something. Im suger coating because she wouldn't ask ,she would insist.
I remembered a time when pain ...I mean real pain ...was a stranger .
Now pain keeps us company...
I remembered a time when you where just a little girl with dreams just like I ...
I watched this girl get thrown into womanhood ...
Pent up aggression ...but how could I possibly resent the one that created me.
For taking a piece of you...
As an angel ascended, your spirits descended ...
Waking up became a nightmare...not the kind that involve screams , but silent mornings instead ...
I passed by your old house today and I thought to myself
God I didn't have a choice or say in the first passing ...
But I won't let the little that lived inside this house die too...
And as the smell of the kindness and pure heartedness that once lived starts to escape her clothes...
Let the memory live on
I passed your old house today
And made new the memories.
Apr 7, 2016
Apr 7, 2016 at 5:48 AM UTC
The taste of sin on your lips, you've got me begging to sip more.
Of the forbidden fruit
Be free, but save me the last dance
To tango with the devil is something I adore.
If it's evil you are the root
Route, I do not know any other.
Two steps forward , you seem to take me farther
Aback
I let darkness attack
Even stars need the darkness to shine
Sweet nothings Devine
Hearts heavy
You raise the levy, to break my spine
I bleed love the color of cherries
You have my spill as wine
As you dine , on my bruised ego and shredded spirit.
It was all a game , and you were in it to win it .
Princess and the ***
My feelings ****** upon
Monsters are not born
Like the one you made me
Past loves beauty I could not see
The beast that lives within
I was in ,thick and thin
Loving you was the true sin.
To think I could change you was wrong
But since I'm not dead, I guess you made me strong.
The world is a cold place without you descending hells heat upon me
But it's a perfect fit for a heart you turned to ice
It was a huge sacrifice
But my curse a blessing for my failure to feel has set me free.
Let the tail be told, of you and me.
Mar 1, 2016
Mar 1, 2016 at 6:29 PM UTC