#fraternity
You should know who you are
There is no need to wage war
Against yourself or anybody
You are yourself; you're somebody
Do not let anybody knock you down
Look in the mirror, there's a crown
On the tiptop of your forehead
As long you're alive, not dead
Nobody is more or less than you
Nobody is more superior to you
What I am telling you is very true
You are perfect. The sky is blue
To make all of us more attractive
More humane, normal and active
You know who you are, enjoy the ride
Brothers and sisters, God is on your side.
Copyright © June 2018, Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved
Hébert Logerie is the author of several books of poetry.
Feb 22
Feb 22, 2026 at 12:36 PM UTC
Your life’s but a shadow
he’s a king of the earth
he’s secure in his place
he knows his own worth.
He‘s lacking all burdens
his smile merits bliss
by the King be commanded
you’re deemed worthy young miss.
The lady‘s so lucky,
as a rose meant for plucking,
this brawling, rough rogue,
- this heir to earths throne,
deems her worth the f—king.
I chuckle demurely,
“Be away drunken sir
- leave me to my studies
- go chase other skirts
with your fraternity buddies.”
Sep 23, 2021
Sep 23, 2021 at 12:23 PM UTC
I’m sure it’ll be a great party
even though I’m dressed like a Barbie
it’s all in good fun
I won’t drink more than one
and they probably won’t even card me.
I’m sure the flyers aren’t serious
the cover girls all look delirious
the guys all wear suits
while the women “let loose”
but I can’t justify the criteria.
I’m sure it was one great big joke
the way your fraternal friends spoke
it wasn’t the way
you called me your bae
it’s just that I’ve never been groped.
I’m sure it wasn’t your fault
and it wasn’t really assault
so let’s just forget
the ***** and the sweat
and take it with a grain of salt.
I’m sure there’s nothing to fear
and in nine months to a year
we’ll give in to fate
and when you graduate
we can shack up and share a career.
Now I’m sure I was being naive
turns out your name wasn’t Steve
and all the support
you swore not to retort
leaves me nothing to do but to grieve.
Nov 11, 2019
Nov 11, 2019 at 2:36 AM UTC
Those who lack a common purpose,
A strong sense of fraternity,
Rarely shall be victorious
Against a common enemy.
Those who choose to work together,
Who share responsibility,
Who unite in their endeavours,
Have much more hope of victory.
May 27, 2020
May 27, 2020 at 6:02 AM UTC
These Hallowed Halls
by Michael R. Burch
a young Romantic Poet mourns the passing of an age . . .
I.
A final stereo fades into silence
and now there is seldom a murmur
to trouble the slumber
of these ancient halls.
I stand by a window where others have watched
the passage of time—alone,
not untouched.
And I am as they were
...unsure...
for the days
stretch out ahead,
a bewildering maze.
II.
Ah, faithless lover—
that I had never touched your breast,
nor felt the stirrings of my heart,
which until that moment had peacefully slept.
For now I have known the exhilaration
of a heart that has vaulted the Pinnacle of Love,
and the result of each such infatuation—
the long freefall to earth, as the moon glides above.
III.
A solitary clock chimes the hour
from far above the campus,
but my peers,
returning from their dances,
heed it not.
And so it is
that we seldom gauge Time’s speed
because He moves so unobtrusively
about His task.
Still, when at last
we reckon His mark upon our lives,
we may well be surprised
at His thoroughness.
IV.
Ungentle maiden—
when Time has etched His little lines
so carelessly across your brow,
perhaps I will love you less than now.
And when cruel Time has stolen
your youth, as He certainly shall in course,
perhaps you will wish you had taken me
along with my broken heart,
even as He will take you with yours.
V.
A measureless rhythm rules the night—
few have heard it,
but I have shared it,
and its secret is mine.
To put it into words
is as to extract the sweetness from honey
and must be done as gently
as a butterfly cleans its wings.
But when it is captured, it is gone again;
its usefulness is only
that it lulls to sleep.
VI.
So sleep, my love, to the cadence of night,
to the moans of the moonlit hills’
bass chorus of frogs, while the deep valleys fill
with the nightjar’s shrill, cryptic trills.
But I will not sleep this night, nor any;
how can I—when my dreams
are always of your perfect face
ringed by soft whorls of fretted lace,
framed by your perfect pillowcase?
VII.
If I had been born when knights roamed the earth
and mad kings ruled savage lands,
I might have turned to the ministry,
to the solitude of a monastery.
But there are no monks or hermits today—
theirs is a lost occupation
carried on, if at all,
merely for sake of tradition.
For today man abhors solitude—
he craves companions, song and drink,
seldom seeking a quiet moment,
to sit alone, by himself, to think.
VIII.
And so I cannot shut myself
off from the rest of the world,
to spend my days in philosophy
and my nights in tears of self-sympathy.
No, I must continue as best I can,
and learn to keep my thoughts away
from those glorious, uproarious moments of youth,
centuries past though lost but a day.
IX.
Yes, I must discipline myself
and adjust to these lackluster days
when men display no chivalry
and romance is the "old-fashioned" way.
X.
A single stereo flares into song
and the first faint light of morning
has pierced the sky's black awning
once again.
XI.
This is a sacred place,
for those who leave,
leave better than they came.
But those who stay, while they are here,
add, with their sleepless nights and tears,
quaint sprigs of ivy to the walls
of these Hallowed Halls.
NOTE: I wrote this poem from the window of my freshman dorm at age 18, while watching students returning from rush week parties in the wee hours of the morning. There is also a sonnet version of the poem. In this longer version there are clues that the poet, like Prufrock, is aware of the quaintness of his Romanticism in the modern age. I consider “These Hallowed Halls” to be my Ars Poetica, along with “Poetry.” Keywords/Tags: College, dorm, fraternity, rush, Romantic, unrequited, love, ivy, halls, learning, education, ivory, towers, stereo, music, romance, chivalry, maidens, damsels, knights, kings, monks, hermits, clock, time
Mar 24, 2020
Mar 24, 2020 at 8:18 PM UTC
There's an apology written in the snow
'I'm sorry about last night. Can I see you again?'
Her wordless exhalation causing the glass to fog
In nearly the same way as her thoughts
About last night
Second date
First ****
Dec 30, 2019
Dec 30, 2019 at 12:35 PM UTC
Shoot me, shoot me
shoot me to heaven
up in the oak, everyone
barefoot on the family bed
.....Come join us, here you are free!
We don't have to believe in anything
except in each other, the singer too
is loose, he laughs at his amulet
and waves to the old man:
.....Come join us, here you are free!
The greybeard sees everything
with twinkling eyes in his long beard
full of bushes of moss in which
the wren whistles:
.....Come join us, here you are free!
Come in the Crown
take off your shoes and socks
together on the family bed
a warm blanket to each other
.....Come join us, here you are free!
Oct 25, 2019
Oct 25, 2019 at 6:14 AM UTC
Hey Human! I am your Sibling.
Queen bee wings are Ripped,
bee niblings are Smoked
For Your Honey Sweet.
Hey human! Listen your Sibling’s Buzz.
Tiger lost bones for Medicine,
Fox lost fur for Fashion,
Sharks lost fins for Soup.
Hey human! Do Not Butcher Siblings.
Simba’s life is not your Trophy,
Jumbo’s tusks are not Decors,
Helmets of Hornbills are not jewels.
Hey human! Do Not Reap Siblings.
Emperors of ice continent lost land,
Economics is making Amazon less,
Logging makes Orangutans homeless.
Hey human! Do Not Invade Siblings.
Warm oceans bleach corals,
Water depleted in cities,
We ingest plastic regularly.
Hey human! Do Not Desert the Earth.
Overfishing is holocaust of aquatic life,
Livestock levitates toxic emissions.
Hey human! Do Not Prey on Siblings.
Lichens stunned by pollution,
Symbionts are disintegrating,
Biodiversity is declining.
Hey human! Be Together with Siblings.
Hey Human! We are Offsprings of Mother Nature.
Monera, Animalia, Fungi, Plantae, Protista
all have common roots.
We are branches of the one Phylogenetic Tree
rooting Common Ancestry unto LUCA.
Hey Human! We are Siblings.
Hey Human! Recall your Siblings.
Hey Human! Revive your Siblings.
Jul 20, 2019
Jul 20, 2019 at 11:19 AM UTC
My heart is not smiling
my eyes are watchful
I am a chameleon
From my cave, I crawl
cautiously through my life
wet when it rains
arid when the sun burns
shy under the leaves
when the masters go by
who don't want to see me
their eyes don't smile
it is a game
that doesn't make me happy
I dream chameleon dreams
of a smooth, uniform skin
that can always be the same
I dream of shedding my skin
that way for once, like a snake
Apr 10, 2019
Apr 10, 2019 at 6:36 AM UTC
Liberté, égalité, fraternité.
L’ homme est né libre,
Pourtant partout il est enchaîné.
An eternally torturous question,
Oozing out of our minds like an infection;
Are we all equal?
Perhaps not when it comes to skill;
Some can lead, some can thrill.
Some can cook, and therefore feed;
Some can run, some can read.
All of us can do something –
No standardised test,
No uniformly assigned competition
Could ever possibly measure
This unique treasure,
The human ability to set off on an endeavour
And achieve astounding feats.
So, then –
Are we born equally endowed?
Perhaps not; should differential talents
Be stimulated, encouraged,
Voiced aloud?
A resounding yes, a thousand times yes!
We should only accept being under duress
When of forced labour and working to exist
We start hearing less and less,
When that concerted effort is directed
Not at striving at surviving
But at truly living, not just slowly dying.
Truly living is about doing what you love,
Being able and free to do so,
Learning that which you don’t know
And expanding that which you do know.
This is not our reality –
We are all born exactly the same,
Yet the country you were born in
Hell, even your family’s name,
Are things that determine
Where you will be positioned
In this foul, ***** game.
This is where we aren’t born equal –
In our right and access
To freely engage in the pursuit of happiness.
There is a seedling of potential in all of us,
One that can be grown –
Let it be known
That all seedlings can become a mighty tree,
If given the following three:
A space in which a fertile mind can be cultivated,
A community in which love can be propagated,
And the freedom to exist without being incarcerated.
May 27, 2018
May 27, 2018 at 8:44 AM UTC
One time when I was on acid
I climbed to the top of a mountain
And mimicked the trees
Danced in the breeze
Colors pulsing from the roots to the leaves
Everything breathes
Has a purpose to be
A choir of soft voices
Whispers inaudibly
The hums are enough to comfort me
They keep me warm on this balcony
Bird's eye witness to the souls of the young
The jovial
The sprung
fighting for fun
They entertain me
But like all pups
still in training
They sleep too long, play too much,
Bite too hard, drink too much
Can I join the club?
Nov 20, 2017
Nov 20, 2017 at 12:14 PM UTC
Drunk and violent
I am stumbling over the civil dead
And my toe is caught in their quilt of twisted limbs
There are mother necks
Daughter legs
And fat infant heads
Their skin is a flesh ceramic
That is smooth appearing
Icy cool against my feet
Ceramic soon to be sculpted by scavengers’ ravenous jaws
Into disfigured cradles for writhing spawn of bug
With force I free my toe
I have no time to idle
I am late to my brother’s home
We are in his garden
Backyard desert earth
Greens
Pinks
Woods
Rocks
Clods of clotted dirt
His hands are watering the tangled vines at their pinkish roots
Solemnly he waters with copper tears and spit
To the east I am staring
At the white wall of brick
I wonder what lives inside these spongy chunks
When he finishes watering
He turns his neck
His head
He faces me
Killing my gaze with the porous wall
The lips beneath his compound eye swing wide and fully apart
He mournfully breathes
Words with sharpened vowels
The letters are sallow blond
My wife
She left
Away
My wife
I slit her throat
My wife
I beat her
Beat her dead
She’s buried by child oak
You smell like whiskey
Brother
You smell like musky goat
You smell like the civil dead that line the path to my wealthy home
Jan 5, 2017
Jan 5, 2017 at 8:37 PM UTC
i walk over the lawn
pushing my hips up and down
to appear more confident and womanlike
in this patriarchal dungeon
where lads become bros who are
taught to approve what I am saying in order for me to
continue and speak.
i have a family who holds a canopy
of love upon me
how dare you only acknowledge my flesh
and these pathetic letters when
there is magic in my hands, wisdom lying in my mouth, and an unblemished soul that has only been tainted by boys like you.
pray you stay away from me so that
your revolting desires are not revealed unto
yourself.
i am saddened by you
for how will I ever find a man when you are the representative
who has taught me that it is necessary to shield myself.
i am saddened that i will never gain your approval
i am saddened that i now live in a world
where women like me think they
need it
Oct 20, 2016
Oct 20, 2016 at 5:28 PM UTC
When 'the few' get more and even more
When 'the more' get less and even less
Until all that's left is just 'not enough!'
When the law becomes brazenly unjust
When the poor are trampled underfoot
Until “justice!” becomes hallowed text
When Free-thought is replaced by bigotry
When dissenters are silenced violently
Until 'liberation!' is whispered angrily
When enough there are with “nothing to loose”
It is then that a revolution becomes possible
It is then that a revolution becomes inevitable
Nov 5, 2015
Nov 5, 2015 at 12:18 PM UTC
For he's going through,
A time so tough & rude,
Loving mother has undergone,
Surgery for knee replacement,
Ya it was a difficult one,
As she's so senior in age,
May time be merciful & help her.
May time help a son to look after,
Loanee we all are of our parents,
Only few get such chances,
Gitacharyaji, we are lucky,
For both of us have gotten ample,
Opportunities to look after them,
We must serve our parents.
Still we can never repay the debt,
They gave us life, they taught us,
Of course we are their symbols,
We are lucky to do something,
For the progenitors of ours,
May your faith guide you,
And impart strength to you.
May 1, 2015
May 1, 2015 at 2:34 AM UTC
Hey there my dear,
It's been like a "year".
And yet I am here
Trying not to shed tears.
About that mistake
you thought it was fake
But then it did take
your one life and sake.
I recall that time
That afternoon chime
I heard that a crime
was your death's grime.
Oh, could you believe
How your mama grieved–
That it has been thieved;
That your life had leaved?
And then there's your father...
No one could cry greater.
You said "See you later."
But later was never.
Your sister was weeping
with each step she's taking
each closer she's getting
your record of dying.
Your brother looks for you,
and he's asking me too
Why we're all so blue.
We can't tell him what's true.
I can't accept this,
After all you promised
After that last kiss,
I'll remember in bliss.
I can't accept that...
you're gone. It's fact
Us all (and your cat),
Hope heaven's where you're at.
I can't blame your choice,
I could not stop your voice.
You were with the boys,
But you were just their toy.
A first it was fun,
You thought you were one.
A brother; yet when done
No longer saw the sun.
You prayed you would last,
But that time had past,
Fate's vote had been cast.
Frat had you harassed.
It just was not fair,
I can feel your lost air:
That you died in a chair,
And they pulled your hair
They had you in a daze,
planned to have you a craze
You died into a haze,
Big mistake: the frat maze.
See the bruises they made,
None of them were your aid
You prayed you don't fade,
I prayed you just stayed.
But you left anyway,
and without further a say
Frat took your life away
on a cold winter day.
Battered flesh, broken bone.
Altogether, alone.
That call on the phone,
Hung a chilling sad tone.
And again, they did tell
That you badly swelled.
That nothing went well,
That into death you fell.
I'm not moving on...
you're gone...you're gone.
But your frat went on.
and on and on.
Jan 22, 2015
Jan 22, 2015 at 8:09 AM UTC
Swoon to a tearful night, unknown to its grief
Dialogue of peace, and those of plight
Ringing of morphology, raindrops on the roof.
Such things heard from the peasants’ seat
In the many wet heads sopping
In the sonorous waves, upright in the city clime
Untending to their beds.
At the bottom of that something
All told are destined they will find
Be pliable to the ills they’ve dealt
To carry on, to work, admonishments
Said once to justify these red romances
That in every rain storm melt
As pity through the night, forever unclasped
From shackles of their blame
Since life and ideology somehow are the same.
‘Tis destiny for abating storms
As some will rose from their thickened thorns
These nights deliver their gentle morns
All the same as hemlock grows as poison
And is best to be avoided.
How—this, I fear only rain my know—
Can we still bathe in fraternal glow
When some still heal from Death himself
Each breath that enters is quickly prayed to leave
High on seated thrones
Those mean so quick to thieving, the poor
The lazy deserve no quarter
Those dusty pockets afford not one
So steal the heart upon his sleeve.
May we help man wrought our kin and kind
By common tongue, free, as we are ought?
Since another may make my world
He is mine to protect, not throw to bytes
So ludicrous and feeding back upon themselves
For destiny can be remade
If hatred weren’t so blind.
Aug 14, 2014
Aug 14, 2014 at 8:36 AM UTC