#rancor
Witnessing the blood baths, the bombings, the massacre
Of God’s people, children’s bodies everywhere,
And octogenarians expire slowly and quietly in horror.
The undistorted and the vivid images of terror,
The ugly realities of life for millions; what a rancor!
The large plumes of gray phosphorus smoke! There is nowhere
To hide. Showers of shrapnel, unprecedented heavy shelling,
White clouds of death and discriminating lynching
Of everything that breathes, walks, runs and flies;
This is war, this is sheer terrorism! The God-flies;
Where are they when they are needed?
Our world should not be so muted,
So insensitive toward so many.
This is a shameful disaster, a pity…
To do nothing and hope for the awakening of the gods;
The worms, the flies, the rats and the tods
Must be happy. What an inhumane feast!
In this young century, we cannot find Peace.
The photos are real, and dying is not a joke.
The lenses of the camera recorded the blood soaked
Pregnant women, their babies shredded
By the wrecked fires of the big guns.
No one is spared: fathers, mothers, sons,
And even young girls are arrested,
Humiliated, stepped on and eventually annihilated.
This is the state of our human family.
Centuries old victims are now the perpetrated
Beasts that devour nymphs, angels and dignity.
The moon can only helplessly weep,
The gods and the geese are high by the burning bodies.
Terrorism is your vocation; falling asleep,
Amid this, is criminal, we should unequivocally denounce the bullies.
Big gun shipped helicopters can only destroy; they don’t make Peace,
H bombs only create more activists, more militants and more beasts.
Copyright © 2009, Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved.
Hébert Logerie is the author of several collections of poems.
Jun 7, 2025
Jun 7, 2025 at 9:43 PM UTC
It’s stuffily. The heat’s compressing my temples.
There’s no place to go. Summer’s in power.
I can’t sleep at all. Insomnia’s hurting my eyes.
It’s like I won’t sleep until the early hours.
All windows are opened, but there’s no breeze.
Oh, how long this night is dragging on!
I remember you said “Bye” to me someday
And just went off somewhere, not cared on…
It’s stuffily. It’s sleepless. I want to drink.
My eyes are like two all-fired huge *****
You thought I’d be crying and begging in tears.
And I’m so tired of you and your rancors…
Apr 12, 2025
Apr 12, 2025 at 6:02 PM UTC
Indigo silence?
Above the ley we intone:
Special to us, the speed of thus
Hope you same the ides of worldly fun...
Predators of let, lots to a man that can
A whole reason, to verify a loose thought
Resplendency as a candor was, a sense of a plan
Where no man has a dread for you, a place for a spirit mocked
Live up to a wall of service, the voice spoken, the voice proven
Has you by the family of gall, if not the gaiety
We accustom to a liberation of the yet to be loving...
Ask the silence, if we can spare the gait of anxiety?
Hatred, patron, and saccharine
In a rolling cloud of disproof, we saw your knickers
When a bird has come home, for the worst a callous stare means
Create a sunny rational with a blessing that has none for a future...
Winds of solemnity
Winds of paradise, to reach the truth
Winds of persuasion, perceived in a chosen liberty
Winds of virtue, with a stipend for youth
Is it us, or the winds changed direction?
Solace in the name of strength, and the might of a friend
In the way of your chaste, if not hastes inflection
Is this wind a fury in the voice of empathy or an enemies rend?
Notice the guitar...
Asking a power, is mercy in the wishes we gave
Is a clash with youth, a head to turn or an answer
With the sweetest you, we have ever seen a hair give, you a savior
Shame on a placebo, that has intone for the pride of glue?
Here, pissy, and ****
We wave the colors of remembering, your example to fruit
On the table, in the tree, and the eyes we are seeking for a world's vexation...
Feb 5, 2025
Feb 5, 2025 at 1:34 PM UTC
Rancor,
Swashbuckling with a sawtooth grin and sacrilegious shouts, selcouth with an unsound mind, the commonness of uniqueness, the commonness of opinionated onions cutting their teeth on life and crying, again, and ready to saw off the limbs of the opposition out of revenge!
Rancor, relax, you're not a Twitter matador, I wish you were because I’d love to watch the show.
We cuddle with exotic nylon fibers and squeal about our weight and status and how someone insulted us and how terrible it is to be alive while sipping on easily accessibly high fructose corn syrup! Life has never been this sweet, but I guess we’re getting sick of honey.
I complain about the complaints, I am the anti-complaining complaint club president.
I am a writer, an iPhone thumb tapper.
Hear me
These mental gymnastics will somersault and summerset you right, child,
Don’t listen to Rancor,
That man’ll grab your gaze and stir your attention into a cocktail while winking at you from behind the bar
he’ll leave your brain a little woozy from a life that used to be sweet until you left it out in the sun a few years too long,
I wonder if some of the dead watch us from the corners of our bedroom or the trees along the freeway, waiting for greatness to unfurl.
I’ll bet they do and I’ll bet you’re a glitch, I’ll bet a little piece of another galaxy hit you in the head and made your finger twitch.
How many hot car hours have been spent in a parking lot,
the skin dries, the phone dies,
the spirit once lifted towards the outlines of the mountain peak now seeks memes, transcendent in their own right.
May 12, 2022
May 12, 2022 at 1:54 AM UTC
Love failed
I never thought it might
I cry disappointment
in the middle of the night
Reality doesn't care
about what's wrong or right
Reality doesn't care
about how hard I fight
Jan 30, 2021
Jan 30, 2021 at 6:02 AM UTC
Dear book weight,
I dreamt of you
As my sweet fate
Dressed all on burgundy
Bragged of those elegant seams
Those that made you candy
And as foolish as it seems
A great desire awoke in me
I had no money to spare
Maybe,
Only if I miss my bread
So in a summer night
I swapped three meals
for your delight
"It is not even windy,"
My mother said,
"why would you want that instead?"
"I dream of windy nights,"
I replied
"one day my pages will try to fly"
What if my thoughts have no ground?
Who will plant True words in my mouth?
Only something heavy enough
Something that could make me tough
You!
My elegant book weight
The things I'd do for you
Throw my phone out the gate
'cause my purse can hold a few
Off it goes
On the rue
Now come on
Inside my purse
~ * ~
Dear book weight,
It's January and its Winds
They've come to haunt me
But they don't know
I am ready
No longer a boat without anchor
You hold me down on earth
No longer in need of my rancor
to daunt me from my death
Jan 28, 2019
Jan 28, 2019 at 8:47 AM UTC
A merger
in trust
for maddow's
a bust
that make
her square
with her
offense that
snare deeds
that evoke
innuendos with
republicans that
newly file
returns these
later dates
and oft-counter
claims inside.
Mar 15, 2017
Mar 15, 2017 at 6:21 AM UTC