"epi" poems
Mwen te fèt nan mond sa,
Mond lan nan peche ak dezespwa,
Tankou lòt moun...
Mwen te mache yon chemen nan pèsyade.
Mwen te fèt nan mond sa,
Yon mond nan peche san lafwa,
Tankou lòt moun...
Mwen sote nan lanmè a nan trayizon segondè.
Men avèk favè Bondye,
Mèsi pou Bondye pitye,
Mwen gen yon nouvo lavi
Epi mwen vle pataje levanjil la.
Mwen te fèt nan mond sa,
Mond lan nan peche san paswa,
Tankou lòt moun...
Mwen te monte ti mòn lan nan tout dèt.
Mwen te fèt nan mond sa,
Yon mond nan peche ak tout jwa
Tankou lòt moun...
Mwen te kouche nan kabann lan avèk laperèz.
Men avèk favè Bondye,
Mèsi pou Bondye pitye,
Mwen gen yon nouvo lavi
Epi mwen vle pataje levanjil la.
Mwen konnen kounye a sa...
Gen jijman,
Gen kòmandman
Gen volonte Bondye,
Epi gen favè Bondye.
Pa gen okenn kriye ankò,
Pa gen okenn lensomni ankò,
Gen Bondye pitye sèlman
Se yon privilèj pou gen favè vrèman.
Favè Bondye.
Dec 24, 2017
Dec 24, 2017 at 3:23 AM UTC
these feet, a rambler's. wanderlust
soles tied from genetics of the epi-
kind. his feet did ramble so as these
now do. his difference, he trek'd with
steel shunt in arm. he trek'd slums'
floors. grit-ingrain'd skin, pox'd wh-
olly and now pushing onlys. pushing
ash against the walls of Death's
container. body aged thru time,
more than doubled - more like
end'd - by that refined infusion.
these feet, a rambler's. walking forth
existences' hundred-mile wilderness.
his feet had also, and his feet defer'd
before sixty-six. these continuing
onward searching ancient trails. loo-
king to start another day, looking
for to never quit seeking another
day before the unlit walls of Death.
before the darkness consuming
of depths never known, always near.
these feet, a rambler's. of well-worn
leather. relinquish'd of cares, desire
or ambitions by brambles strangling.
blood running by access of natural
means. slate gash'd soles, crevices
open'd of the crust throwing chal-
lenges toward the sky. heights im-
aginable if only to forsake lazed
calves. heights set for disappearing,
where tracks never lead. no wrong
side in non-existence, no wrong
sight for the rambling feet worn lea-
ther.
Feb 23, 2013
Feb 23, 2013 at 7:40 AM UTC
"What tempature does love freeze?"
asked the five year old ice scientist.
Her character sheet read: "Mage".
She preferred "Scientist".
In the beginning we said "An Ice Scientist can freeze anything!"
So she asked "How cold?".
Google told us "-300 degrees Celcius".
The Ice Scientist spent the rest of Dungeons and Dragons
discovering the Freezing points
of
"ALL OF THE THINGS!"
"I want to stop the Bard
by freezing the Queens love"
Roll for it.
"Nat 20"
The Queens love freezes.
She refuses the bards advances.
"YES! ...Wait, What tempature?"
70 degrees.
Love may freeze at any tempature.
"At 211.5 Degrees Celsius, Adrenaline Freezes.
Did you know that?
Your heart stops racing,
No more sweat, dry mouth.
The initial fight or flight reaction slows.
you see less red."
"Mom stopped buying Epi-pens;
they're only sold in packs of two,
said she's "Boycotting epinephrines codependency"."
"Adrenaline helps your heart beat!
Did you know that?"
"At 128 degrees celcius Dopamine freezes.
Did you know that?
With desire frozen
no sense of reward
you sleep more, eat more, slip into depression.
You aren't addicted to anything anymore!
unmotivated!
upperless!"
"Mom gave up coffee,
gave up chocolate,
can't even have ***
"Dopamine makes you happy!
Did you know that?"
"At 121 degrees celsius, serotonin freezes.
Your well-being crackles on a car window.
The remaining strands of happiness, form icicles!
You can't regulate your mood,
appetite, or sleep patterns.
You are unpredictable and sick!
Serotonin heals wounds,
did you know that?
with it frozen, the scars you've collected
stay open!"
"At 0 degrees celcius water freezes!
you are made of 50-60% water!
half of your body is FROZEN
at 0 degrees!
Did you know that?"
"At -2 degrees celcius human blood freezes.
Your hands go numb,
like when you have no gloves on?
Then your toes! Arms! legs!"
"I think I would like the numb feeling
being frozen,
like Elsa.
All those tingles are the blood warming up and moving around.
Did you know that?"
I didn't know any of that.
you're very smart.
"Yeah...
...What tempature does Oxygen Freeze?"
Well, munchkin, let's google it.
Oxygen freezes At -218.8 degrees celcius.
"I bet it's hard to breath with no oxygen,
like when we get panic attacks".
Yes munchkin,
our panic attacks
are like a frozen lung.
"Do you think beautiful trees have frozen lungs?"
Do you mean winter trees?
The ones that look like glass ornaments?
"Yes!
the beautiful ones!
Like me!
You said trees breath,
When they're all beautiful
Are they having panic attacks too?"
Some of them.
There's no way to tell them apart.
Remember, Munchkin.
Trees always thaw.
Like the Queens love.
Like my love for you.
It just takes time.
Jan 15, 2017
Jan 15, 2017 at 11:29 AM UTC
You tread around me
like a crack in the sidewalk,
counting my vertebrae for fractures
after each time you toe the line.
I've learned to keep
an epi-pen on hand in case
you slip up and feed me the truth.
You can never be too careful.
Mar 13, 2013
Mar 13, 2013 at 8:18 PM UTC
Nothing complements a cup of Earl Gray tea
quite like a walk around Nevada City
and a few cigarettes.
Of course
knowing I will see you tomorrow
and complement your outfit (because it will be nice)
will do fine.
I asked for a dance and you promised me two
and I won't think of much more until the second one is done.
And even after that I'm sure I will think of little more.
Until we dance again.
The football players will still get "pumped up" on four or five EPI pens before a game
and I will still hate them
and the girls will still post on Instagram
and I will still hate them
and she will still laugh at my jokes
and I will still love that laugh.
This has all happened before.
To me, my grandfather, and a boy named John who lived in 1970's New York.
It's all been done before,
it's all a copy of a copy of a copy of Jesus
but it will still never cease to amaze
(occupy)
Shock and Awe was a failure, some will tell you
and 40 percent of the Central African peoples will be infected with ***
and Jesus will never leave the cross.
And you laugh will never cease to amaze
(occupy)
May 2, 2013
May 2, 2013 at 1:09 AM UTC
I am the heart surgeon's hand,
working on his audience
in cardiac arrest,
But this *****
it's beating,
slowly,
I need to
speed it
up,
Actors
surround me
in latex gloves,
***** and cut
with utensils
I pick to ****
The Epi,
The Myo,
The Endo,
Three layers
my gloves
must fold under,
We must
prevent
sudden cardiac death,
To notice
drama
through superior atria,
To hear
oxygenated emotion
through the body,
As long as they're breathing,
hearts pumping,
the performance is at play.
Aug 2, 2010
Aug 2, 2010 at 9:20 AM UTC
Pro-
Photo-frame on the wall,
beautifully adorned.
Empty.
Snap your hero in.
-logue
Never mind their foibles;
Every fault is just a small weakness
when found in the otherwise great.
Dying to deify,
we are itching to sanctify;
Castigation unabashed,
but, for the struggling everyman.
What if we will never find
another son of a carpenter
who will die preaching love?
Epi-
In a world starved of messiahs
ready always to worship ever
but be, never,
iconoclasts are icons;
Sentimental impossibilities
in the language of hope
aye, fete-worthy acceptables.
Mar 13, 2013
Mar 13, 2013 at 1:16 PM UTC
dear children.i hope and pray, someday i maylay my troubled weary headon peaceful downy pillowsbut never wake up dead so never follow footstepslearn where others treadbe watchful how they slipnever be misled learn from steel ,coal,iron soulsalways be yourselfnever walk in shadowsalways walk in health live above the groundor dead beneath the flowerseither way appliesmake good the precious hours indulge in all thats freewith happiness and laughtersavour every momentit may be too late after i hope to gaze, up or downone day from heaven or helland watch my children learn, from....where i climbed, and where i fellall my love, dad xx
Feb 28, 2010
Feb 28, 2010 at 12:43 PM UTC
8/28
I still feel cold
Your forehead touching mine
held captive as you were
by your body’s new home,
A wooden casket
Felt so much, stoic past couldnt mask it
No breath, On my knees howling,
Body reaction analphylatic
Must be allergic to truth, Epi my body
please Save me so I can task it
Inside sight still Burns so hot
I'm melting out here,
must be made outta patchwork plastic,
Zinn man, can can you hear
Your body resting, a symbolic system
Forming a quietude of mourning moods ,
and murdered motivations, and somehow even inspirations
Friend still dead so I gotta tremble
Ritual require so we assemble, trouble is
Pain is an illusion , but how do I
pierce this false Conclusion
Falling prey powerfully to this pervasive grief,
So still no vibrations This **** must be
an optical delusion
Still in disbelief and I still feel cold.
Our whole community perceptions formed by conceptions,
Creative community informed protection
A general order of existence, clothed in factuality
mood realistic, magnitude mystic
So focused on your life,
just so we could love and miss it
Cause The candle that burns
twice as bright
lives half its life
double finite
Like a falling star you crashed
Excited the red of my stop light
Walked up to the circle jerks
And hit me with a simple sound bite
“Who wants to be my best friend
and give me a cigaretee?”
Leap of faith trying to touch a fallen star,
You could be so blunt, people left with fingers burnt
Look at the sky purple light know right where you are
So subtle, always curious to what we could learn
Hand over my heart
for 21 G=U=N Moments
You had honor.
I still have your rose,
Dead as you are,
withering beautifully
Just as cold as I am.
Aug 28, 2017
Aug 28, 2017 at 8:22 PM UTC
I saw Satan fall, vicarious and all, y'know
the storyteller, said
lend me your ears
should you chose to lend to a king on a verbal agreement that
the king repay the loan on demand
"ask and ye shall receive"
but you,
got nada t' lend,
best intendere covers only one bubble,
my ownliest one.
--- here, watch, see reality stretch
--- intendere stretch
--- seventh inning, whose at bat , but you,
ad lib ad hoc you are Casey...
and there, the story ended, I told it, oh so well
born in the po' house, had a cowbell for a toy,
sing me some ain't got no money blues
If i reckon I need money fo' me some ol' new shoes
if I reckon I need money I be be be leaven one set o' footprints
in yo' sand.
come turn that backgound buzz down low,
fall wit' me t'see the show
I saw Satan fall, vicarious and all, y'know,
like lightening black,
after flash,
in a movie, HD, 3 inches from my left eye,
my right eye never saw.
old time ********* could not imagine
the level of segregation
at the corpus colostrum epi-phun-junction
that can be employed to prevent the left
hand from being judged by the right,
for lack of knowing. Eh? Who imagined ignorance
was less bliss than this
peace past standing under all the liefy remnants
from trys
past trys, some same as now,
some how
better
with you aware of you being so valuable,
one part in eight billion, pure you, like,
tried, in the finer's fire,
seven times - in ever
there has never been
a snowflake more unique than you.
(snowflake recrudesence, there's a rub)
Tell me why would you imagine meaning
hidden in snowflake, the word?
is there a nibbler from society a-tempting you?
Come and see. Does that tempt you?
Jul 14, 2019
Jul 14, 2019 at 4:33 PM UTC
you waited too much
about thirty years before you can say jack robinson
cheops kephren mikerynus
otherwise life like a water under the desert
always played tricks on you
pushed you hunchbacked inside caverns
where everything drips and leaves a small hole
everything yells
tears or laughter tear off the flesh
they’re forbidden since the world began
they declare you are subhuman
because so many still cry with their eyes closed
you are just a riddled dummy
the more you scream the more you unwind
there’s no place for you at the charity soup feast
you don’t understand why
everyone is something because you are nothing
you have no bright star left
as a proof
amid the stubs from yesterday’s garbage
you still smell good still wash yourself with soap
children still play with marbles
hitting the wall against which you lean
tentatively
Jul 2, 2014
Jul 2, 2014 at 1:07 AM UTC
After his heart attack, all foods tasted better. Strawberry juice tasted like sweet nectar. He did not raise his voice higher than a confident whisper; the same tone one would use to console a worried younger brother. He said it hurt when he laughed, then he showed us the stitches he had. They carved him open from his sternum to right below his esophagus. It looked like the surgeons used white shoelaces to keep his chest from spilling open. Then I wondered whether a bunny-ears knot kept the stitches from unraveling. He showed us that he had no stitches or scars on his back, but it looked as if a daddy-long-leg, with sewing needles for legs, hiked across the right side of his neck in his sleep. He walked at an infant's pace, but told us he was going to be okay. He told us he used to live, now he loves.
Nov 27, 2014
Nov 27, 2014 at 2:18 AM UTC
I wish to give you this skin
The one encompassing
My everything
I give it to you
As an offering
An apology
For ever expectiation
Of yours
That I did not meet
Oct 25, 2017
Oct 25, 2017 at 5:34 PM UTC
Yon nouvo Papa
Yon nouvo espwa
Orevwa Pap Franswa
Ki te fè yon bon jòb, bèl bagay kòm yon Gran Klèje
Nou tout konnen ke laj pa kwè nan dinasti
Nou vini, nou ale epi nou ale tankou yon ti bo
Detanzantan, nou bezwen san nouvo
Epi natirèlman, li natirèl; Se pa yon krim
Novum papam habemus
Novum spem habemus
Nou gen yon nouvo espwa
Nou gen yon nouvo Rwa
Yon nouvo lidè pou Legliz Katolik
Ankèt la fini, eleksyon an fini, tout kontwovès fini
Sa fè plizyè dizèn ane kounye a, peson pa etènèl
Dènye Pap yo janti, sansib, intèlijan e inivèsèl
Mwen espere pontif sa a pi bon pase tout lòt anvan yo
(Fòk nou pa ri) Denye Pap la chita nan syèl la
Pou depoze epi siyen tout dokiman li yo kòm sa dwa
Kote yon dividal zanj ap chante anba tant diven yo
A mwen pa konn si ke yap bwè di ven
Mond lan jodi a plonje nan yon sitiyasyon dezastre e malveyan:
Manti, krim, koripsyon, ekspilsyon, diskriminasyon ak enpinite
Dayè, sa se yon eufemism, se diminye bagay yo
Sepandan, lemond antye anvi:
Lapè, lapè e lapè
Nou vle ke tout move rèv kaba, fini:
Enjistis, lagè, ipokrizi, rasis, entolerans ak povrete
Novum spem hablemus
Novum papam hablemus
Nou gen yon nouvo espwa
Nou gen yon nouvo Papa
Se pou Bondye beni nouvo Pontif sila, lanati ak limanite!
Dwa otè © 8 me 2025, Hébert Logerie, Tout dwa rezève.
Hébert Logerie se otè plizyè koleksyon powèm.
May 13, 2025
May 13, 2025 at 12:11 AM UTC
I find myself waiting for an epiphany that wont come in time
I find myself waiting for you and I know you won't come in time...
To save me from me
I'm here believing in something I don't believe
My mind has gone to a place where I will always find you in the same sweet memories
created when you're gone
I find myself waiting for you to become reality once more
I'm waiting because your essence lingers
and I'm waiting on your epiphany
That won't come.
Nov 16, 2016
Nov 16, 2016 at 1:45 AM UTC
How long has it been ..........
Can you even remember when......
You had joy and
So much fun....
That when you woke the next day.....
There was no way...wash away.
The goofy permasmile ......
Stop and listen
Remember to never forget
The one
essential component
The crucially
Vital element.
After you vamp off everything
Else
The string that make the twine
That makes the ties that bind
At the
epi-center
The common factor that I find pleasing.
And that is you ..
Your self
Yourself and more importantly
Your innerchild
The faintest nuance of you
Floats me into
A lazy sunny day swimming care free in the residual joy you bring .
Your the reason
I hear the birds sing the reason I love ice cream.
You are my blackberry almost as much as "the one you
Will always leave that some one for....."
I whole heartily
Know all of you
You simply are the cause and effect of every
Aspect of the most bestest happiness that could be dreamed.
A million poet
In their prime
In their perfect
Place to write.
Given every vocabulary and dialect
Future past and present
A million years
Then repeat a million times .
Epochs splechlops,
My dear sweet
Love ......love doesn't even hold a candle
To one second
Of one simple essence of you.
To me you are
GRAVITY.
We the world's and I revolve around you.
Without you
There is nothing.
Mar 3, 2021
Mar 3, 2021 at 5:19 PM UTC
You dropped the garage door on your knees
At the teen party that summer
And you bled some fantastic blood onto the sidewalk
With a cigarette in hand and a lighter in your mouth
We would roll around, naked, on the trailer bed sheets.
You may recall, it was reckless as ****
And how you almost stabbed yourself with epi on a whim
While we barreled down the highway, fifths of gin residing beneath the seats.
I wasn't the only one who had words to say about the dagger on your bedside table
Or your self made haircut all untamed and screaming
I was tied to your ribcage with fishing wire
The same day you hid all the knives.
See, I'm still here beneath the string light ribbon tree, and these days, Rachel's washing her face with wine
You're slow dancing at the state park,
With river guides and alibis.
At least now no one cries
Aug 4, 2016
Aug 4, 2016 at 1:40 PM UTC
Who paid me to read Dostoyevsky?
Who paid me to read Solzhen-itsyn?
-no one, and then me, I paid me,
for having some idea,
should ever cause such a time as this:
Synch, Long Now, novel actuality,
down in the epi-stem logic, init
function
enough,
breathe and fret not next breath,
rest assured,
professional care has been taken,
we all become ready to make peace,
previously unthinkable, rights, made
possible whole otherwise, other tongues,
essential utterances eventually all blend,
and we believe the algorythms rhyme truth,
I'll go rhythms tug your muse,
mojo,
samesame gnosishit gnosisnot,
spirit breathes,
spit it out,
feel it being, said as good as done,
once,
upon a certain time,
and in this certain place, we come
hear wholey all she wrote, she wrote
on the wall at Delphi junction,
know:
your scale, measure, worth, weight, whole self.
your appetites are yours to hold true to good.
your owned certainties are your maddest bits.
Mar 21, 2024
Mar 21, 2024 at 5:35 PM UTC
I must be allergic to you
every time you come near me I swear
my stomach starts doing somersaults
My palms grow slick with perspiration
and I start to asphyxiate on fantasies of you
Surely I must be allergic
Why else would my eyes water at the thought of losing you
why else would I hold onto hope like an epi-pen that you are meant for me?
Oct 1, 2018
Oct 1, 2018 at 11:37 PM UTC