"elaborating" poems
Love reading your words,
On-and-on with those blurbs
Talking so much stuff,
Trying to get what you deserve,
I know you like it rough,
All that wordplay foreplay
Enough is enough
Time to do it all word for word
Read you your writes
Elaborating every verb
You started it with all that small talk
Now its time to get heard
Don't just take my word
I can get you off like a weekend,
Have you waking up in a new world.
Sep 3, 2014
Sep 3, 2014 at 10:45 AM UTC
could there ever be another?
should anyone even try?
eloquently elaborating on social trends
in depends
older than dirt
shades matched in heaven
thinking back to David Greer
“Pennzoil” “Freedom”
lost in thoughts
of America losing a legend
a hero
poetic goddess blessing us with her words
long enough for this mortal coil
she flies free now as only imagined in the quiet
no longer bound to reflect on injustice
almost a century of witnessing inequality
in the land of hope
is more than anyone should have to bear
today, may 28 2014, one caged bird sings a different song
May 28, 2014
May 28, 2014 at 12:59 PM UTC
Senseless bubble erase the fears
Mundane life pulls at heartstrings taut
Carving ridges and trenches of pain
Back beaten concerns and worries
Never fully flush from my flesh
Excitement bursting and dissolving
Like acid into everyone's apathetic ears
Long limbs elaborating tales that could
Otherwise simply suspend with sentences
Splashes of distaste scald at my face
Burrowing deeply into my deep diseases
I'm thousands of degrees to cold eyes
Yet I burn within their icy glares of uncare
Every nerve twitches while others' tingle
Soft happiness blooms into blissful days
Torn by how I feel all too much yet am not enough
Mar 5, 2019
Mar 5, 2019 at 2:03 PM UTC
Each one was elaborating
all about life at length;
in many words, all one heard
was just about themselves
Dec 19, 2014
Dec 19, 2014 at 1:25 PM UTC
Quit it! Stop being hypocritical about freedom
What type or what kind that you are talking about?
Be serious! Keep on talking about freedom
Until you drive me to boredom
Until I am strong enough to eat a live trout
Keep on yelling freedom, freedom
Until you lose your kingdom
In Galatians 5: 1,13-15: we found these words, not in error
"You shall love as yourself your neighbor"
"But through love become slaves to one another"
"If, however, you bite and devour one another,
Take care that you are not consumed by one another"
Go read the Bible yourselves, ‘because we are free'
We are brothers and sisters, we should love one another
Yes, Christ died for our freedom, for our liberty
We want freedom in America
We want freedom in Cuba
We want freedom in Columbia
We want freedom in Haiti
Which is poor because of exploitation
Corruption, violence, hatred, pollution
Lies, extortion, racism, theft, distortion
Misery, slavery, crimes and discrimination
Stop, stop being hypocritical about freedom
Let's finish elaborating and talking about freedom
Before alluding to or commenting on democracy
Which is more twisted, complex, convoluted or mazy
Big brother is supposed to protect the little one
In this world, we should fight for freedom for everyone
For the rich, the poor, the underprivileged and the elderly
The strong must protect the weak one. Oh! Miss Liberty
Stands for something noble and divine for all
"For freedom Christ has set us free", so we can walk tall
So we can think freely
So we can wink freely
So we can talk freely
So we can walk freely
So we can laugh freely
So we can clap freely
So we can write freely
So we can chat freely
So we can dream freely
So we can invent freely
So we can yell freely
So we can enjoy life freely
While respecting each other
And protecting one another
Oh! Freedom, Freedom. Too many humans have senselessly
And falsely die in your name. Oh! Freedom. Oh! Liberty.
Copyright © July 2021, Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved
Hébert Logerie is the author of several collections of poems.
Sep 28, 2025
Sep 28, 2025 at 4:59 AM UTC
Tonight, might
Just be the right night
To write
It depends on multiple factors:
What time is it – not too late not too early
Happy medium
How much I have drank – not too little not too much
When & Where it happened
Not too much early in the night and not too little later on
And what type of mood I am in
A medium happy mood works best
I have a memoir, seven unfinished poems
And so many wonderful women and moments
And an empty bed
And enough words that hold the potential
To fill the space
To retrace the lines
That draw the past night and week
And to undo and unload this mind
Accomplishing what I set out to seek
Creatively confused by rhymes
And those that I wish to speak
I am comfortable in knowing
Putting thought to keyboard
Will not fail me this evening
Putting cigar to lips
Searching for a lighter
This is a true story
And would mean more
If I said thought to typewriter
Why is this a good night to write?
Simple, I remembered a few things
From the walk home, before
Forgetting the rhyme schemes
Elaborating on a few ideas in my head
Before falling to sleep
Under the covers in my bed
Undercover my best work goes
Dancing naked in the street
To close for comfort
As I close in
on coming close to my dreams
Because sleep and accomplishment
Are two different things
May 8, 2013
May 8, 2013 at 4:59 AM UTC
Have I been too revealing
Employing too much wailing?
Were the drums a bit too much
With epic trumpets playing?
Have I been too obtuse
Or did I veer into rambling?
Could I have better laid it out
Without elaborating?
Have I done justice to the discourse?
Did I mis-count the charging horses?
Did I include sufficient angels?
Was I true to my sources?
I trust that I did hold true
To heavenly inspiration
That the words will stand the test of time
And bring true revelation
But if I did stray from the truth
If it all seemed way too bleak
Please respond with due good grace
It's only my first week.
Mar 30, 2017
Mar 30, 2017 at 12:47 PM UTC
I once carried a corpse.
I caressed it over my shoulder,
and walked for hundreds of miles,
bearing its extra weight.
Dragging my feet beneath me,
I moved from town to town,
and in each cheap midnight motel,
someone asked me,
"why?"
But I never listened.
I trekked onward,
through snow, sleet, and rain.
Through blisters, blazing heat, and unbearable pain,
till I reached the gates of hell.
When I arrived there,
the gate keeper looked me in the eyes,
and smiled.
I handed him the corpse,
and turned to walk away.
Then he asked me,
"why?"
I stopped.
Silence.
Then he asked again, elaborating,
"why do you bring me your own corpse?"
I smiled,
and walked away.
Sep 24, 2013
Sep 24, 2013 at 9:16 PM UTC
Cassie babe,
Your eye don't fix onto anything
What's holding your words in?
Painting up above
It seems you've a love for everything
I just haven't seen you grin
Thoughts on edge
Inside instead
Your legs dangle from a ledge
Gormless expression
Inner canvas expression
Not a thing to say
In your mind all day
You know the way it goes
Drifting to
And floating from
Places to spaces
But never really going anywhere
Well nowhere that she'd like to share
With you or me
Pondering elegantly
Elaborating privately
Although
There is no doubt
Your beauty's on show
Sep 19, 2014
Sep 19, 2014 at 5:30 PM UTC
the wicked sound of the trees brushing past
the raindrops that would have races down their unforgiven paths
the smell of gasoline because my dad was cheap
the radio on alternative again for all to hear
the long talks about life and weather
made me feel I could stay in there forever
the car rides with my dad
this was a fateful day however
it seemed like we were driving forever
when we curved out of place
and took up someday else's space
Halt we came to an abrupt stop
colliding ends with a truck
I panicked inside
at the same time-
the air bags released
and I could barely breath!
my stomach felt like churning butter
my eyes only fluttered
my dad asked: are you okay?
I said a simple yes
I didn't feel like elaborating
on this tremendous experience.
he wiped his brow
grabbed his glasses
they were broken now
shattered into pieces like grands of molasses
the police arrived
as I stood there stuttering
this was all surreal .
my dad was furious
though he held it in very well
on account we just bought the car
and now it looks like a piece of tar
he looked me square in the eyes and said
"honey...I'm just glad we are alive!"
Mar 3, 2014
Mar 3, 2014 at 5:40 PM UTC
The camera is rolling, incessantly capturing every moment of our lives, leaving us with a world that never stops recording, where privacy becomes a luxury unbeknownst to us. In these private matters, we find ourselves stripped of any semblance of secrecy, exposed to the prying eyes of an ever-watchful audience.
As we gaze upon Mother Earth, we see her through an unsettling lens, viewing her as a captivating entity, akin to a seductive **** who has birthed and nurtured countless lives. Yet, contrasting our admiration, there persists an underlying desire to possess and consume her in a primal, carnal manner. It is as if we hold a fetishistic fascination with her, using fiery words to address her before we even think to disrobe ourselves from the layers of convenience and comfort, leaving her vulnerable and exposed.
This portrayal begs the question of how mankind perceives themselves amidst this intimate performance. Are we mere objects to be stripped down and devoured for the amusement of an unfeeling audience? Stripped of our dignity and possessions, we are left bare, vulnerable, and at the mercy of those who derive pleasure from exploiting our vulnerability. It is akin to a mesmerizing striptease, a tantalizing display that leaves us yearning for something greater.
In the face of such exposure, we find ourselves humbled and powerless, compelled to seek solace and redemption from a higher power. Constantly begging to be bathed in the love and mercy of a divine entity, we yearn for a respite from the unyielding gaze of the world. It appears that the world derives pleasure from witnessing us in a state of vulnerability, reducing us to our weakest form, our knees bent in submission.
In this revelatory expansion of the original sentence, we delve deeper into the implications of a world that ceaselessly records our actions. We explore the complex dynamics between humanity and the environment, finding parallels in our treatment of Mother Earth and our own susceptibility to exploitation. The expanded content retains the core meaning and context, while elaborating on the themes of vulnerability, power dynamics, and the search for solace and redemption.
Jan 8, 2024
Jan 8, 2024 at 3:43 PM UTC
Look,
The day will come where it takes a mortician
to show you there are worse things
than your depression
Death or dismemberment
It's not just your falsified insurance claim
The day you fell to your knees and wept
over the great pacific ocean
In the city of angels you were humbled by its majestic potion
The message in a bottle you never sent
Your laziness allowed the entire ocean to be swept
carelessly away for your lack of devotion
The day you spoke about your loneliness
sitting in an upright-coffin-confession
Adjacent to the man who ***** children
to make himself feel... more... man.
Literally, I meant, he felt those young men.
Did that yet distract your pain?
Remember that day
that day you cried to your doctor
Elaborating about your back and lack of motion
She’d been crying
She was trying to comprehend
hospice for her cancer-ridden husband
Off to die, he was sent
Oh, that's exactly what it meant.
But, oh, that little tiny microscopic pain!
Then there was that day you complained
To your flat-mate about your job being so mundane.
As she spoke of her boss firing her,** post-rape**
To avoid the human resource claim
You were hell-bent over your issue…
As she went insane.
Remember the day you went "insane" to your best friend
About your second wedding being destroyed by the rain
Your bestie was a man who had never felt the embrace
of love
affection
or pain
The ability to cherish
The passion and pain of a woman,
he had paralyzed legs,
no woman had ever loved him
Because he could never provide ***
And YES you booooooo-hoo-ed
Over all your costume-esque dresses getting wet
Whats next?
You complain about the rain...
A magical natural scene
But LOOK,
You've never once tried
to see that persons suffering.
Oct 15, 2017
Oct 15, 2017 at 4:50 PM UTC
Float lines written in steady confusion dancing over blue and white or is it white and blue or plain white with blue stripes
The healing is rare in the toppless cage awake,awareness and relations when poetry serves all names appear every where and dissapear when pen is picked up
WHAT NOW
Pen preserve intensity a duration of the hand you came to recognise
Pressing pressure of dripping ink color me bold and everything intense
Errors of consciousness privacy opens to receive losely shaped ideas making me believe history approved of the future changing its sad guitar string to a over under ignorant weeping cry overflowing fluids, rivers won't dry and the economy leaks all speeches resound hot history all writting is long there isn't enough pens, screams are not loud enough criminals with rights elaborating reasons for victims suffered, I thought history was worse their non-mirrored tongues continue to reflect what wants they see staring back
Never mind you que keeping political mirrors from breaking....
Mar 29, 2014
Mar 29, 2014 at 5:19 PM UTC
The world surrounds the in’s and out’s,
the truth in the authentic locus,
Millions of people move the scouts,
in order to increase their focus.
The corrupt world,
induces to follow the tradition,
Creaming the beneficial fold,
making the submerging the verification.
Contempting the placid,
that none other would do,
Blemishing the bracket,
elaborating the déjà vu.
Alteration is necessary,
and a proximate change we need,
Admitting the weary,
was a very doltish deed.
Trepidation should be removed,
the coercion it had built,
Destroying its aged bedrock,
and the selfish guilt.
Resuming the rejuvenate change,
the mutate we devoir,
Establishing the new welkin,
and the heavens we desire.
Commemorating the new holy,
we partage our obligations,
Rectifying our contemporary folly,
by deciphering our bygone praxis.
Aug 29, 2014
Aug 29, 2014 at 2:42 AM UTC
Romance is distraction -
Romance is elaborating saga,
Romance is invention,
and not at all Love's dogma.
Love is discovery -
Love is devotion,
Love is creativity,
It evolved as we evolved,
Love is center, in all kinds
in the pure and the complex,
Love expressed in all the fines
the beauty in finding is yet -
Losing oneself in the find
or finding oneself in a loss,
unset from stone your searching mind
come morning, midnight, sun rise or set -
Love will find you as much as
Love willingly let's you beget.
Oct 6, 2018
Oct 6, 2018 at 12:25 AM UTC
My love for you is dark
Dark meaning it happened no matter how hard I tried to stop it, its darkness
My love for you has no reason
Reason meaning I saw no flaws flowing on you nor perfection predicting me having a list elaborating the reasons of you belonging to me
Its undefined
Undefinable with no condition
Unconditional is the love I bear for you
And when I'm with you silly I become
Losing all senses assumed to be common
In you I find myself lost
Control is what I have when you streach hands squeez me with your arms , tapping my backside with your fingers I swear I'm an instrument a piano being played
You try to kiss me and I look away and smile you kiss my neck
Strangely I shut my eyes imagining wings growing on my back flying you away to some dimention unheard of nor discovered by our kindexposing a naked me to a fully undressed you dancing to a lustful tone satisfying each creature drawing air that hits a lung and right before I know it your tongues are playing I recall what is about to happen and look away I open my eyes only to be glued to yours
Feeling a feeling that turns me a fool
Therefore sweetypie
My love for you has no reason nor conditions
I assume it reaL
It contains rest, trust and fear
Insecurities and arrogance
My love for you rests whithin me
For how long is the true question to be asked not why do I have love for you
Apr 16, 2014
Apr 16, 2014 at 5:16 PM UTC
Second hand secrets
Bubbling bathtubs
Drowning the dread
Escaping evil
Violent videotapes
Sickening stories
******** and *******
Driving drunk
Elaborating on the evening
Vicious voices
Warped whispering
Only I can hear
Oblivious to what was happening
Sinking under the water
Not wanting to come up for the desired air
For I thought I could breathe underwater
My lungs would fill with the air for fish
My brain would explode
I could hear the muffled screams
But I liked it better under a world I barely knew
no longer had I have to worry about what was above sea level
For it didn't matter in my tattered mind
My heart was pounding in my body
Almost screaming and grabbing at my chest trying to pull me back up
Gone girl
Girl now gone
Apr 26, 2016
Apr 26, 2016 at 5:50 PM UTC
I was never a girl who revealed her crushes
Play my cards close to the vest
Heart beating in hush- hushes
Don’t reveal any unrest.
Don’t feel aloud-
Someone might hear.
Don’t think too loud
You might disappear.
To hear would destroy
The labyrinth between you and I
To know would demolish
My tower of Babel to the sky.
You can see the self that is but a part of me
Once the defense, now captor-
Imprisoned and I’ve swallowed the key
And there I remain hereafter.
I lie staring at the ceiling
I cannot speak
Words dancing, stomping, skin is peeling
Still not a peep.
I’m screaming and shouting and asserting and demanding-
My mouth is cement.
I’m clarifying, elaborating, divulging and expressing-
I make no lament.
Feb 15, 2016
Feb 15, 2016 at 3:31 PM UTC
As the breeze flows from the heights, and the leaves take flight. There sat a sage beneath the Mango Tree, with a keen eye he deliberated in observation.
With deep ponderings the sage gazed, feeling the gears tick within his brain. A depth of thirst for the waters in the well called Knowledge.
Within his mind, the universe he could see. Nothing to be hidden from the melody resounding from the ticking gears within.
Taking his staff, he crafts metaphors into the ground - like a vision a passerby can heed. Hours go by and the visions grow. The crafting like an evergreen bloom, forever elaborating.
From dawn to dusk, he ponders. Yet, dusk til dawn he crafts. For meaning he holds for the generations, a drink he gives from the wells of knowledge - a delight fulfilled for he.
The ecstacy swirls within, the fullness of purpose the sage perceives. What more can he do? The lineage of his nation does he hold. The lessons of old will he pass on to the lineage of modern succession - a quest embarked by the wise.
Apr 16, 2019
Apr 16, 2019 at 6:52 AM UTC
i spend an evening elaborating to you
another of the lifelong atlas weights on my shoulders
saint that you are
focused, locked in, nodding,
with all your beautiful being.
understanding. empathizing. absorbing.
all of the hell of these shattering ordeals i have endured
every day you grace me with your ears
my heart grows to long for you more.
careful composure cannot be kept in situations of this nature.
so i weep
for never has this
caring, patient
...love
been shown to me
Oct 7, 2021
Oct 7, 2021 at 9:51 PM UTC
Remember the street is a dryeR
Easing out fears into a flat pastE
Memories may be seen as an imaM
Entering into convenant with hastE
Minding the time he coiled on kiliM
Beauties of the street are folded like bulb
Entertaining the earth like lonely artistE
Remember the street made you a fatheR
Thinking for yourself & it's tough distincT
House yourself in it bossom like tooth in MoutH
Even if stumbling stones retaliatE
Stand to those fragments of those beliefS
Tilting down your muse towards prominenT
Remember where you started to roaR
Elaborating your strength to keep calm voicE
Eagerness is a blood dripping into languagE
Through which the ghetto name a streeT.
Yours Poetically,
©John Chizoba Vincent
May 23, 2018
May 23, 2018 at 9:07 AM UTC
Deep down diving darkness drains the death of the dawn.
Inside its insidious inferno his child chants the chains.
All aware the awoken, head its hell and heart.
For frozen facts have fallen and frail fractures have formed
End the everlasting era of elaborating electronic evolution and withold the wall of woven worlds
Trees and tracks have traced its meaning and tried to trust the truth once more
Hell on earth will withold
Jan 26, 2020
Jan 26, 2020 at 10:50 PM UTC
we have reached the era,
where music has reached
the status of scent -
music is so abundant,
so exponential,
that it equals the status
of perfumes -
the deconstruction of
the wind,
into the drum-kit construct
of rhythm,
the very african base for
rhythm,
it has created a plethora...
there is so music in the air,
that it's hard to keep up...
i see this as the first major
implosion of the pentagram...
i don't know what
sight is based upon,
but there can't be a plethora
of it... given some things
are visible, and other are
invisible...
this is the grand libra pivot
though:
how scent merged
with music,
to describe itself between
themselves...
classical music had
little rhythm in terms of drums,
and had little melody,
conquering the space
with liszt ior chopin technique...
modern music is much
about drums, and so little about
"melody";
well, in fact, it is far more melodic
than classical music...
for there is a base...
the more simple the music
the more melodic is its tact...
a **** or a slapstick moment
is always more funny
than elaborating the "joke"
into a witty anecdote...
by now we scent more "colours"
than actually see more,
the orange of mango,
the orange of a mandarin,
the yellow of a banana,
the yellow of a lemon,
the green of a cucumber,
the green of a watermelon...
thankful i am,
to be alive, when the plethora
of scent, congregates with
the explosion of music,
just what the white dude would
do, having exported africans
to america, and abandon
the winds, and take to drum
his right of being, against the earth.
Aug 7, 2017
Aug 7, 2017 at 10:04 PM UTC
while doing the household chores, cleaning the throne
of thrones, vacuuming, mopping the floors...
peeling vegetable skins for roast vegetables...
and finally: darkness came,
with all her fiddly bits...
it probably sounds better in German...
let's see...
und endlich: dunkelheit kam,
mit alles ihr knifflig bits...
yeah... sounds better in die deutschezung(e)...
from now on: ZUNG... not...
ZUNGÉ... none of that French ********
i.e.: tongue: toong... like... elaborating on
TONG...
so i woke up and had a vision...
if you were to translate Katakana into
Braille... you'd need... a su doku grid...
a 3 x 3... not a 2 x 3...
i abhor the modern acclaim for
the hieroglyphs that emojis are...
emoticons, whatever...
i think it's best to start with the vowels,
since, they are alone-standing
in Jap-spreschen...
ア (⠁) A
イ (⠊) I
ウ (⠥) U
エ (⠑) E
オ (⠕) O
no, seriously,
if you were to create a Braille equivalence
for blind Japanese people, you'd require
a 3 x 3 grid, it's mathematically sound...
there's nothing brilliantly difficult
about solving a su doku puzzle...
it's just an eye-strain...
people stop solving these puzzle...
or rarely begin "thinking" it's a bit like
arithmetic,
mind you: i much prefer the spelling arithemetic
of words, mein gott...
the backlog, the storage of so many words...
i'm almost happy that i don't come
from a culture centred upon
syllable encoding...
yes, thank you... i'll just stick to these atoms
over 'ere...
i'm happiest though, when i get to write
authentically translatable words in
some European language into Japanese,
without nuance... ZERO...
ゼロ...
people can emoji all they want...
i'm not going to be looking into Chinese ideograms...
i need something elevated...
and nothing out of Asia is more elevated
than Katakana / Hangul.
p.s. 502 bad gateway bypass:
title - itchy grading
body -calypso on the guillotine
Jan 3, 2022
Jan 3, 2022 at 12:17 PM UTC