#victims
The dictator has
a name, but all the victims --
are just a number.
Apr 27
Apr 27, 2026 at 2:33 AM UTC
Even God doesn’t care about us.
No one does anything fair about us.
Shepherds and wolves do nothing forbidden—
Sheep have always been meant to be eaten.
Apr 19
Apr 19, 2026 at 11:40 AM UTC
All I want is peace and peace
In the west, in the east
In the north and the south
To close your mouth
When you're happy
To stop the misery
During the passage
We only need one page
To express our feelings and pain
All we need is PEACE. We die in vain
Every single day
Yes, we need to pray
More and more often
So we can go to heaven
When we die
This is no lie
We can smell a new year
Let's start a new prayer
All we want is to have PEACE
On top of the list
All we need is Universal World Peace
And to leave this earth in one piece
While having a glitzy feast
No drones, no bullets, no wars, no lies, no tragedies
No guns, no deadly bombs, no cannons, and no bullies.
Copyright © December 2018, Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved
Hébert Logerie is the author of several books of poetry.
Mar 20
Mar 20, 2026 at 9:03 PM UTC
Put your hands up,
try and keep a straight face,
but it will never break our fall.
Isn't there a town over there?
Why are children climbing up walls?
You said, eventually we'll lose them all.
You're a reflection of me,
bright, weary and impossibly lost,
sewing sour sentiments
into a doleful flag.
You said, the sad was only
a reciprocity of rain,
but it didn't break our fall,
didn't save our town.
The sign says: 'stay away from here',
a sheltered kiss then
to remember us by,
while nearby, someone drowns
in the clear blue water.
Sometimes the cruelest part
of tragedy is its proximity to hope.
Feb 10
Feb 10, 2026 at 6:09 PM UTC
Love...what a beautiful thing,
a heartless thing.
No one prepares you
for the love people give,
or what they tell you is love.
They say they love you,
adore you,
would do anything for you,
even destroy you.
And slowly, quietly,
they are killing you.
Not with hands,
but with words shaped like perfection,
with rules dressed as care,
with cages built from “what’s best for you.”
They drown you
in the silence of control,
in the absence of freedom,
until all you want
is air.
Love,
how it changes
house to house,
person to person,
heart to heart.
Are we all breaking from love?
Smiling through it,
carrying guilt
for hating something
that was supposed to protect us?
Is it me?
Should I love harder,
quieter,
better?
Or am I just finally speaking
against something
no one wants to question...
because love,
sometimes,
kills.
Feb 6
Feb 6, 2026 at 2:58 PM UTC
An open wound bleeding
History repeating
It's broken
It's broken
It's stolen
It's not about the politics
Never been
It's about watching
Everyone around
Filled with hate
Seeing them
Celebrate
The suffering
Of my friends
My neighbors
Myself
And you
If you don't see the hate
Then look within
You're probably the one
With a grin
Watching families being torn apart
Watching the disabled
Lose their heart
Lives torn
Hatred born
History repeats
Repeats
When will the evil
See defeat
If God's supposed to return
When life's at it's worst
When hatred is born
And the antichrist swarms
Then where is he
Where is she now
Or before
Or then
When will it happen
Maybe they left
Couldn't stand another breath
Of the hate
The joy of hating
And killing
And stealing
Murdering innocence
Burning the different
Sick twisted lies
We all live in
The sick
The weak
The humble
And meak
Hated
Even by each other
God
The son
Our brother
And sisters
everyone
Trying just to be someone
All we are
Is a demographic
A victim
A poor person
Or freak
The world is bleak
I have no pride
In a world
That kills
In a world
That spills out
All Hope
Til it's gone
For shameful thrills
I mourn the death
Of every single person
Killed by lies
Killed by the cold melting
Ice
Killed by the noose that ties
I mourn
The loss of hope
That we will float
I mourn
Watching others gloat
With racism in their throats
Distain in their gold plathered coats
They hate and berate
While praising a god
That stands for love
And forgiveness
I mourn
For the weak
For the humble
And kind
I mourn
For the sensitive
The children
And our minds
I mourn
For my soul
It's broken
And crying
I mourn
And i cry
But deep inside
I'm angry
I'm ******
I want to scream
And throw my fist
This world
This life
So short
Bleeding
With a knife
We all mourn
Together
This one and only life
Torn apart
By weather
Storming down
And ice
Torn apart
By wickedness
And lies
Tonight we cry
Tomorrow we fight
Maybe one day
We'll see the reason why
Maybe one day
History won't repeat itself
Maybe one day
We'll live
On togetherness
And love
Trees, nature, beauty
And peace
My god, please
Well,
Maybe one day
But only if we continue
To fight
Jan 31
Jan 31, 2026 at 4:12 PM UTC
The victims stare at the winners
and at the losers alike, asking
was it worth the fight?
did you get what you sought?
did you think this through?
and now we inherit the rubble
what do you expect us to do
with this legacy, with this loss?
Will you now retreat
behind your yellow lines
and leave us
in this desolate peace?
Oct 11, 2025
Oct 11, 2025 at 3:36 AM UTC
War victims: people
who suffer from the sad fact --
that there is still war.
Aug 31, 2025
Aug 31, 2025 at 3:13 AM UTC
The massacres of our beautiful people must STOP.
It is unconscionable and unfair to destroy so many lives
For selfish, greedy and hatred reasons. God, in his archives,
Have recorded everything, which occurred, from top
To bottom, from sunset to sunrise, from the start
To the end. God knows what’s going on in every one’s heart.
God knows what took place in Cleveland, in Charleston,
In Santo Domingo, in Staten Island, in Sparta, in North Charleston
In Buffalo, in Texas, in New York, in Ferguson.
The Lord is fully aware of what has been going on.
The massacres of our beautiful siblings cannot go on.
The brutal and deadly violence against the innocents must cease.
Too many of our people are weeping, too many are deceased
From unnecessary gun violence. Too many have been unjustly executed.
Too many egregious mistakes have been made. We need to see a STOP
Put into this nightmare, this quagmire. We need an end to this flip-flop.
Human beings are suffering and dying. Let’s not apply a band-aid
On this humongous wound. Let’s do our best to provide appropriate aid
To our serious and minor problems. Real people are being killed,
School children, churchgoers and shoppers are being killed,
We are not fantasizing; we are obviously not at the movies.
Our People are real, with human flesh; they are not dummies,
They are not actors; they are not all guilty by association.
The massacre of our innocent people must stop in this nation,
In this state, in this borough, in this city, in this town, in this school,
In this cathedral, in this church and in this community pool.
The mental and physical slayings of our people must END.
All potential perpetrators must look in the sand
To find themselves, reverse the role, think of being
A potential victim of racism, bigotry, indiscriminate shooting,
Senseless firing, ignorance and all sorts of sins under the sun.
We need to defeat the negative feelings that are eroding the fun
That God had put in our soul, and are destroying our natural gift,
Which is to love our fellow men and women. Let the Spirit lift
Us to a higher ground, to a more sane and comfortable pasture.
Let’s be human again, and be stronger, kinder and more mature.
The slayings of our beautiful must be something in the past,
Some crazy events in history, some horrible times that must not last.
Let’s free ourselves from negative emotions, let’s be free at last.
Let’s not be silent, let’s speak, and let’s tell it like it is at last. Alas!
Copyright © July 21,2015 Logerie Hébert, All Rights Reserved
Hebert Logerie is the author of several collections of poems.
Jun 23, 2025
Jun 23, 2025 at 11:47 PM UTC
Two minutes, we sacrifice.
The value of a human life.
Not to work two minutes harder,
or push ourselves 2 minutes further.
Not enough to contemplate
the pain and fear, the spite and hate.
Not 2 minutes to reparate,
our broken world, our shattered people.
The ones we left, who've grown so feeble.
We give 2 minutes for those who died.
Who died in wars so many times.
War and again, over and over,
and louder, the silence,
and longer, the violence,
so dilute in its gunfire and sirens.
Silence, 2 minutes, for those who died.
Yet silence eternal, for those deprived,
of human rights, and chance to live,
If only 2 minutes were all we'd give.
May 8, 2025
May 8, 2025 at 7:13 AM UTC
Affixed to the Lee–Enfield,
this blade, this trigger point,
stricken by ambush,
enters the melee
along the false edge,
cuts to the core,
like sympathizers of
William of Orange.
There are no daggers
apart from war,
just an ocean of
death and defeat,
its water,
its ever rising water,
swallows us whole.
May 19, 2025
May 19, 2025 at 1:54 PM UTC
Dear Diary
It’s not my fault
It’s easy to render
Myself a victim
Driven by consequence
Accountability
Sheds daily
Like skin
It silently falls
Perhaps I shall erase
My cuttings of
Foregone conclusions
They surround a
Diary full of days
Each encircled
By failure of others
Apr 20, 2025
Apr 20, 2025 at 9:10 AM UTC
Poor people of our countries
Poor people everywhere
Poor people of Haiti
People who are poor, disoriented, and crazy
I will no longer say ‘poor Haiti’
Haiti is a country full of wealth
Haiti, a country full of resources
For others
Haiti is a paradise and rich in resources
For others
Haiti is a country full of hypocrisy
Of destitute, miserable and suffering peoples
Haiti is a place full of hatred and backstabbers
Haiti, Haiti! What a disgrace! Where its leaders are dumb, evil, and crazy
Haitian youth and young people are very unlucky
Because the false and fake leaders are greedy, ugly and senseless
What a shame for a people who have often suffered so much
The Cemeteries are everywhere, so are the Churches and the Calvaries
There is so much misery there because the thieves, the crooks
Hypocrites, henchmen, bandits, madmen, and scoundrels are everywhere
This is the country where too many innocent people die by bullets, by iron
By hatred, by hypocrisy, by revenge, by ignorance and by poverty
Which saint should we invoke for these hopeless people
For our brothers and sisters without a future who are dying of despair?
What deaf and drunken God should we pray to save the followers of Christ
Who lament, who weep, who scream, and who bark like dogs?
What word should we use to strengthen and energize these weakened people
And the state which unfortunately exists to punish the impoverished victims?
Poor people here where we are
Poor people of our countries
Poor people everywhere
Poor people of Haiti
Poor people of these United States.
P.S. Translation of ‘ Pauvre Peuple De Chez Nous, De Nos Pays’.
Copyright © April 2025, Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved
Hébert Logerie is the author of several collections of poetry.
Apr 6, 2025
Apr 6, 2025 at 2:22 PM UTC
Compulsion has no
perpetrators, just victims --
and accomplices.
Apr 4, 2025
Apr 4, 2025 at 2:09 AM UTC
The line in the sand
is at such incredible depth
but suddenly obtainable
through unspoken tragic demarcation
whatever the outcome
the 91st floor comes from underneath
they say today is happening
outside of me
and from a window
along the stress fracture
it's falling decidedly at your feet
Jun 23, 2024
Jun 23, 2024 at 2:10 PM UTC
Just as it should be,
the triumphant army strides --
on dissonances.
May 22, 2024
May 22, 2024 at 3:37 AM UTC
It's Friday the thirteenth
again. I stay at home
due to circumstances:
a dragging wind
and storming sirens
The cameras break
taboos and peek
into windowless sleeping
rooms, front pieces
after the wind of roughskirts
who celebrate their gains
in stinking silence. I close
the curtains, my eyes and mouth
I'm not here, hello hello
don't you see I'm not here
and I can do nothing about it -
absent due to circumstances
which I can do nothing about
Jun 19, 2023
Jun 19, 2023 at 3:37 AM UTC
At home, in the sun, I watch
the news intently, I study the photos
the parabola of a mortar
like a shooting star
and the grey ruins after the impact
There are cameras everywhere
I shiver from everything
I do and don't want to know
but I wouldn't know anything
if I didn't know
I read of people
who woke up and
ran to a cellar
their children crying
in the pale morning light
The wounded crawl over debris
scramble past the charred cars
An ambulance drives away
Daily corpses, daily news
with survivors
with a dry mouth
speechless, pale in the sun
in which I follow the news
with my sharp eyes
my cool heart
Mar 18, 2023
Mar 18, 2023 at 3:45 AM UTC
You are like a magician
your hands working in stealth-like fashion
revealing little about who you are
finger prints of time have passed you by
as you honed your talents and skills
to manipulate people’s minds
so that they believe they are in control
all the while you hold the strings like
on a puppet or character named Pinocchio
obscuring or twisting the truth as you meld
our hearts and dreams into nightmares
providing dark thrills to your repertoire
while making victims of the audience
who attend these spectacles you readily compose
to entrap those weak of soul
and so it starts like someone under hypnosis
pliant to your every command
unaware of your intentions
until it is too late
Andreas Simic©
Jun 7, 2022
Jun 7, 2022 at 6:45 AM UTC
they come after me
i try to become a faster me
die laughter me
spellcaster me
the laster me
master me!
The Master, me
black and white America
I'm in the hood just doing good ...
for my brothers
I wish I could
make it understood
I'm not like
just like the others
I wish you would
stand where I stood
Then we could
both have our drothers
You broke a fragile hand
On a fragile man
I won't shake twice
I'm twice not as nice
black and white America
untamed land of the brave
the depraved can't be saved
oh John would you behave
were you raised in a cave?
In black and white america
In the land of the free
Why can't I be me
Without you looking
Every single time you see me
In black and white america?
stories come and stories go
But only the glories know
For more and more we go
More seeds die more we grow
oh ***** on the floor, we know
You gave John a sore we know
Rotten to the core
That's how the story goes...
That's how the story goes
Black and white america
Nov 7, 2021
Nov 7, 2021 at 7:27 AM UTC
~
*I hold still,
let him finish stabbing me
— I count six,
let him believe me dead,
he moves on to Cecelia.
--
It does not go as well for her
as she continues to writhe and scream
and carry on,
not well at all
— I count eight,
nine,
ten...*
~
Jun 19, 2021
Jun 19, 2021 at 11:59 PM UTC
Little feet walking
Endlessly far
Big eyes wide open
Only seeing the war
Little hands clutching
everything nearby
Little skinny bodies
Numb, just wanting to cry
A child tired and hungry
With no place to go
No destiny nor future
Nothing... No home..
Eyes big and wide open
Seeing only the dark
That ..... people
is our
refugee child.
Shell
🐚✨
Jan 5, 2021
Jan 5, 2021 at 11:14 AM UTC