"gott" poems
I like to write poems that rhyme,
Though I haven't gott much time.
Rhyming poems work my mind.
They're one of a kind.
Sometimes they are lame.
The words may sound the same.
The words aren't bombastic, they're tame.
If you find this poem boring, it's Obama you should blame.
Okay, the words are kind of forced in.
This poem should be in the bin.
And yes, this poem is childish.
And yes I can no longer be bothered to make the words rhyme-ish (A for effort?)
But this poem was light-hearted.
Something to cheer me up.
And it make me smile.
:)
Apr 25, 2015
Apr 25, 2015 at 10:17 AM UTC
. people are always left curious about the stories of homeless people... within the regards of why they became homeless... you want to hear my story? i sat down with one homeless person... you know what he told me? you want to know? he said: MY MOTHER TOLD ME TO NEVER TELL A LIE... wow... wow... so it became my ambition to never tell a lie... i became homeless because my mother advised me to never tell a lie... guess telling lies pays off... whatever it pays with or for... i became homeless because my mother told me to never tell lie! wow! so much for poetry being written while sober... what is expected? unruly truths, falsifications, this that and the other... hell... i'm a drunk... chances of me involved in a relationship are the basic focus of: SLIM... but? HEDNINGARNA - VARGTIMMEN... Finnish folk music.
***** does my head in,
minus the thought-and-question:
do i have a head?
dunno....
whenever the moon rises...
i get a tease of the giggles...
ha ha...
and my face contorts into
a posit of one if those faces from
an apex twin video...
funny as any royal ****
turned into ****
flushed..
now i want you to remember:
never meddle with a madman...
he's been prescribed his
medication,
he's been diagnosed...
come near me and a cancer
sufferer...
dox me!
dox me!
dox me!
i, dare, you!
but i know the person,
or rather, the type...
i won't be doxed,
because what i'm proposing
will not be matched
in execution....
****** parodies
of testicular cancer!
that quote for Albert from
the dark knight:
i am....
some people just like to watch
the world, burn...
i am...
dies, ich bin:
this, i am!
at least i have more constancy to
make comparison of
the Hebrew gott...
ich bin das ich bin...
my alternative?
dies, ich bin!
now...
i am: now!
and when i drink and turn
into a *******
it's to salvage some fathom
or what remains to be
justified as:
resolve.
Sep 28, 2018
Sep 28, 2018 at 8:12 PM UTC
Mein Gott! Can't you see,
in the Teutonic light,
What we proudly Sieg Heil
with the torches all gleaming?
The ******** beckons,
through the perilous fight,
Great Deutschland awakens,
not sleeping or dreaming!
On the huge TV screens,
the footballers are seen,
Foul proof through the night
Brave Germany's dream.
O please make that Hakenkreuz banner come first!
We're the land of Sauerkraut, brave home of the Wurst.
Oct 17, 2014
Oct 17, 2014 at 7:20 AM UTC
Mrs Merkel, fair and sturdy
Dour and doughty
High and mighty
Saviour of the sinking Euro
Female icon, Teuton hero
Stand up for our rights!.
Daughter of the old Republic
Proud and plumptious
Rarely bumptious
Quantum spousal and mechanics
Scourge of Grecian's and Hispanics
Onward from Berlin!
Lean upon the sturdy lectern
Softly spoken
Never broken
Deliver to the gathered masses
Words of warning and molasses
Deliver us from evil!
Target of the shocking Silvio
Chauvinistic
Almost mystic
While all things must come to pass
She's most certainly not a *******
Gott mit Uns!
Nov 4, 2012
Nov 4, 2012 at 1:16 AM UTC
Sie fragten, weshalb ich schreibe.
Ich habe lange mit meinen Gedanken herumgespielt,
aber meine Mutter hat mich all die Jahre liebevoll gelehrt,
dass man nicht mit sinnlosen Gedanken spielen darf.
Ich habe nachgedacht, bin durch Straßen gerannt,
bin auf Füßen von anderen herumgetrampelt, und
weitergerannt, umgedreht, und ehrlich entschuldigt.
Habe an meinem Stift gekauft – vermummt von Wor-
ten und habe Bruchteile von Radiergummifussel ver-
streut. Habe überall gesucht, in den Strömen des Re-
gens, in den alten Adern der Blätter am Straßenrand,
nicht mal im Bröckeln der Asphaltrillen habe ich ent-
denkt.
Es hatte mich Nächte gekostet, einen Punkt für das
Fragezeichen zu finden;
aber, oh Gott, ich habe den Punkt gefunden, denn
der Punkt liegt in meinem Herzen, ich trage Worte
in meinem Herzen – lauter als mein und dein Herz-
schlag zusammen;
und nun hat mein Herz Ringe unter den Augen.
Aug 6, 2014
Aug 6, 2014 at 3:51 AM UTC
unlike these other migrants -
i remember Ilford,
during the Balkan war,
and the Kosovo refugees -
who didn't bother to remain...
refugees having this superiority
complex over
economic migrants...
somehow victim-hood is
a better economic model
than skilled labor...
i didn't assimilate into
the English culture,
i wasn't spoon-fed this
multicultural ********
where some ******* Somali
could speak down to me
because he was
bown und bwed in
Cuntish Toown...
****** can brown-beat
me down with his
exotica...
up to a point...
i haven't been brain-washed
by some ideology of
assimilation / integration...
i never assimilated
or integrated into the English
"culture"...
i'll let you know...
sprache über kultur -
*meine treue ist zu es ist sprache,
nicht es ist volk,
sogar wenn ich haben
zu sprechen deutsche*!
i was never assimilated or integrated
into the English "kultur"...
i acquired it, and by acquiring it,
i acquired it to deviated from
what was being prescribed...
by a ghost consensus...
i never signed up to some
******* Somali brown-beating me
as some minor, the always inferior,
"eastern", "European"...
not a chance in hell...
*hölle erste,
besagt streit? zweite*!
...and why do you think i'm
seeking escape in tickling German?
i'm not exactly bugging the Ottomans -
after all... one of the Axis powers...
and i love my Turkish barber...
i can't imagine any other ethnicity
to have perfected the trade of
the barber...
who... whittle east African
subsaharan Muslim with no knowledge
of the Saudi slave trade of Bangladeshi
workers?!
mouthing off his over-priced
privilege position in England?!
bingo!
no no no...
i'm not assimilated,
wenn es kommt bezüglich die krone?
mein antwort "bezüglich"
eine krone?
die ich von gott:
ist der ein und erst krone!
i didn't integrate or assimilate
into this "kultur"...
i made a claim for this sprechen...
da ist nicht kultur
außen die zunge!
which is why i have to tease German,
the old father...
of the English tongue...
because?
because i find the English language
plagued...
and i'm puritanical at herz.
Sep 10, 2018
Sep 10, 2018 at 8:53 PM UTC
the blatant frustrations of live feed editing.
enter the tablet, joystick free, one touch games,
quiet interesting that it’s so hard
to get a gaming addiction with such games
as candy crush soda, family farm,
bubble witch 2...
you will not see an adrenaline tornado on these
platitudes, no movie like involvement,
no plot... just time contraints, money constraints,
the adequate reflection of life: hey mort! when you coming?
hey forthnight debility cheque! when you coming?
(i too thought tetris originated in japan,
but it was actually of soviet design!
so in conclusion: games designed to be as reflected
by someone doing a crossword - i'm crap at
those, being bilingual is obstructive -
i'm in constant translation mode looking
for picturesque synonymity - or doing sūdoku -
which i'm not too bad at.)
a bit like that jesus debacle, so gott insisted on giving
proof of his existence to a baby... bad move...
the kid grew up in a bubble and thought he could do anything...
elijah just said to the priests: but if your god doesn’t exist,
what’s the point of having you? later he repented
on mt. sinai where god was but a whisper...
like the whisper of the dream of what rome was at first:
a republic. i believe in republicanism, i don’t believe
in that shamble that’s known as democracy, and is currently
the biggest export from america... exported to usurp
other nation’s republicanism - the elders of afghanistan
will never be modern family mr. jason wordsmith and
mr. jack wordsmith, raising an adopted / surrogate mother’s
kid... not in a million years... nor will revised buddhism
in western europe ever be original shinto of japan...
not in a million years... we’re not a monochromatic people.
back to jesus: there’s not one shred of christianity in
jurisprudence (philosophy of law /
etymology: prudence of having a jury) - but when you’re faced
with an enemy who’s a lawyer, and has connections...
and you’re a poor idiot who was forced into a paranoid schizophrenia
simulation for 7 years... you don’t set out to attack
and get compensation like that woman schopenhauer pushed
down the stairs... you set out to prove god -
and subsequently leave the ******* in his own waiting
line for karma - i hardly think there will be an oliver twit
in him to ask for some more.
Dec 6, 2015
Dec 6, 2015 at 2:20 PM UTC
I had a guest to dinner,
It was a Nietzch ghost.
The ghost brought with him five volumes,
A stranger barring gifts in the night.
In civility i poured him tea and examined these books.
The first book was a Book of Contradictions.
A book that called for morality and peace,
But it was laid in the path of genocide and hate.
A disheartening tale of the Gott that grew to the point of oppression.
The second book was titled the Tot of Gott.
A book of the slaying of the oppressor.
The fall of the mighty by the disenfranchised man,
In its effort to cover all, the controller spread himself to the point of destruction.
The third book was the Book of Cosmic Emptiness.
A book of a speck, a book of existential glory.
It showed however grand our perspective,
We are small and empty.
The fourth book was a Book of Mirrors.
In it i saw everything and nothing.
The world around me was so clear,
But i knew nothing of myself.
The final book was the most perplexing.
Unlike the book of mirrors it was empty as the “o”.
Page after page of emptiness, lonely of words,
Save the corner of the last page which said “Your Tale”
I looked up and the ghost smiled,
A bizarre smile of accomplishment.
It took Its tea and softly rose, for the door.
It never said a word but why would it.
I wonder what my tale will be.
Oct 19, 2011
Oct 19, 2011 at 11:00 AM UTC
Naziism gained it's foothold in Germany
when the Reichstag was burned down:
this gave them the pretext needed
to suspend the rights of the Citizenry indefinitely
to ensure "security".
Sound familiar?
It should be frightening how similar it in fact is to modern events:
This rhymes with modern American legislation:
CISPA, the PATRIOT acts, the NDAA, etc.
Governments have always used such events
to catalyze and capitalize their own motives:
Tread lightly.
We enter a new age of Oppression with each passing administration;
we are not immune because we are hubristic
if anything, we are more vulnerable for it.
Sieg Heil,
für Gott ist mit uns.
Wir können nicht verloren
denn Gott ist mit uns.
Sieg Heil,
Amerika über alles.
Sieg Heil,
Das viertes ***** wird herum.
Sieg Heil.
Sieg Heil.
Apr 19, 2013
Apr 19, 2013 at 6:00 PM UTC
“She cannot live forever!”
We told each other more than once.
Still, she had all the Deutschmarks
and to her I was a dunce..
My wife and I were servant/slaves
to her every wish and whim.
It was just after the Armistice
that she ”allowed” us move in.
Germany was a hungry place
As Weimar came into being
What happened after Wilhelm fled,
few could claim to have foreseen.
No, she never spoiled us,
her grandson and his mate.
I cut wood, my wife drew water
For that shriveled old ingrate.
Other than a pittance
and an attic bed of straw
she gave neither thanks nor praise
to her only heirs at law.
Thank Gott, the morning finally dawned
we didn’t hear her ring her bell.
In sleep she had departed
to Heaven or , likely, Hell.
We hugged each other gleefully.
Our servitude was done.
We were rich with Deutschmarks!
The year was Nineteen twenty one.
Jun 16, 2013
Jun 16, 2013 at 11:33 AM UTC
These tears aren’t for you because you don’t deserve them
They are for me because I earned them
Breaking free involves examining one’s self
Being stress free is a choice regardless of color, creed or wealth
When I consider the things that I’ve lived through
I realize what love can make me do
I realize my strength and dedication
I realize the extent of your mental manipulation
I realized the effect of waiting in the wings
While you continually did your thing
Steadily putting me under scrutiny
Like I was the one who did not know monogamy
I have but one question and in my soul it itches
Its how many countless nameless *******
Have you let your manhood reside in their britches
Meanwhile your mood switches just as easily as the wind blows
Cause liquor and **** makes your heart bleed
Black blood, green envy, blind jealously
Seeking foolishly to control me with suspicions and accusations
Branded with heartache and pain like abrasions
I’ve never been one for control
But being pushed past my limit is like Chicken Food for the Soul
Cause I have to consider my life, my health, my sanity
At the brink of no return
I stare into the abyss and see all things about myself I miss
I see how life is passing me by
No matter what I do or how hard I try
It’s to no avail and every effort ends up in fail
This pain is too much for me to bare
It’s like my self-esteem, my confidence, my respect
It’s barely there and it makes me flee
I am too low on the totem pole
And like "X" I am at my rock bottom
“like **** look at how a ***** gott’em”
So God here I am on bended knee, stretching out both hands
Cause I can’t take another second how I am
Father help me to get back to me and on the path to where I should be
Jan 27, 2014
Jan 27, 2014 at 11:27 PM UTC
by now you should have figured:
it's easier to satirise an everyday British
civilian with a radio,
than it is satirising a British politician
with a sense of rhetoric and
no Poker skills; instead viably
all cleavage with piquant punctuation,
zesty with a protruding ah...
an opera in glutton minor -
(never the colon preceding italicised
re-)
*meine land, meine land,
die land alle meine land
die land von Strauß -
die land von fett walküre -
gott ist tot: diät ist boren*.
it is easier to it's easier to satirise an everyday
British civilian with a radio,
than it is satirising a British politician
with anything than politics - as assured
with deciphering the enigma
or the British relations musicology speaking
relating to the continent with that
one favoured spy / messiah: Hændel - i.e.
the one admirer of Liszt that turned to terror tactics
and broke the pianist fingers in hope of the pianist
never wedging a Cuban cigar between middle and index;
love is such an oddity, it can make jealous men
love by hating into a choking joke.
Aug 4, 2016
Aug 4, 2016 at 9:55 PM UTC
Sie halt meine Liebe
Noch im Speicher
Ihre Augen werde ich nie vergessen
Ich sah Gott in ihr wie kein anderer
Wenn ich sie wieder zu sehen,
Wenn dor Tod keine Grenze
Lass es sein, oh Gott, lass es sein
Sie ubt Achtsamkeit in ihrem Gang
Sie spricht, wenn sie spricht
Sie liebt es, wenn sie allein ist
Sie erzahlte mir,
Und ich glaube, sie
Wenn das Ego hingibt Stolz
Wahre Macht gehalten wird
Wahre Liebe aufgedeckt
Und die wahre Wahrheit ans Licht -
Her kiss of days between
She holds my love
Still in memory
Her eyes I’ll never forget
I saw God in her like no other
If I am to see her again
If death is of no boundary
Let it be, oh God, let it be
She practices mindfulness in her walk
She speaks when she talks
She loves when she is alone
She told me
And I believe her
When the ego surrenders pride
True power is held
True love is uncovered
And the true truth is revealed
Dec 13, 2013
Dec 13, 2013 at 7:20 AM UTC
When William walked
They stayed in pace
And when William stopped
They backed away
Williams women knew their place
They prepped the food
They cleaned his place
They shined his shoes
And shaved his face
But oh Williams worth
Was a wayward lot
Dampened darkly
Away and aloft
Sparkly hamperings
In the trunk of his car
Scampered starkly
Alone in the dark
So far far and away
They exclaim
Oh Billy!
Ol'Willy has his fame
Flames but to his back
As he walks away
Really just another *****
A wiley killer killen em
Wily nily willing or not
He's lovey dovey
Shovey punchy
Always feelin hot
When with his silly thoughts
He sees the holes in their knots
And gets off on their thoughts
For the love of the pop
The pop of the ma-gotts
Sopping mind rot
He gets it alot
And when he stops
He froths throbs
Weaves and bobs
Wheezes and sobs
Then sneezes and hes off
To either burn a stable
Or poison a troth
Severe a cable
Or just turn it all off
Offering lovelessness
Amidst pimps
For he is the way
The way of the worlds
Lawful in his lawlessness
He is the glint
Of the harbinger
The bringer of depth
The flint
Of the match maker
Closer to per-fect
Jul 20, 2013
Jul 20, 2013 at 12:26 PM UTC
/ *are there any misnomers in the representation
of language, only, and only within the confines
of phonetics? sure... spelling is not exactly
arithmetics... but is it?*
/ trance
as the "misnomer"
of the prefix trans...
oh my god,
current english -
and the golden
age of chaos -
and that nashville twang
in an american blonde's
voice: like a banjo...
gott ist tot:
kommen die titan, la(s)chend.
/
Jul 20, 2018
Jul 20, 2018 at 11:00 AM UTC
Gott,
Lass Freude sein!
Denn ich weiß nicht
was halb Liebe heißt
und dann auch nicht
was halb Weh
ich weiß nicht
wann genug, genug ist.
Jede Sekunde schallt in mir
mit ihrer ganzen Kraft!
Sie tut weh und lindert.
Gott,
Lass Freude sein
heute, diese Tage..
Schick mir lieber Gott
während meiner Verwirrungsstunden
die Lichtspur einer Hoffnung.
Gott,
Lass Freude sein
inmitten meiner Liebe.
Apr 4, 2017
Apr 4, 2017 at 5:53 AM UTC
I smelt the morning air
as I walked the cloister
from church to kitchen,
oratio est labor,
Dom Francis busy
about the pots and pans said
bring me cabbage
from the walled garden
so I did,
the French peasant monk
wheeled a barrow
as if loaded
with the world's sins
over the rough grounds
of the abbey,
we must sow the seed
not hoard it
Dominic said,
sow your seeds in me
she said fill me
with yourself
and your squiggling fishes,
sunlight through
the high windows
of the refectory
as I swept the floor
but the sunlight stayed
with its tiny
particles floating,
Dieu voit tout
the French monk said
as he aided me
in the apple orchard
plucking fruit,
she opened to me
her valley and garden
and I dug deep,
the punishment
of every disordered mind
is its own disorder
Augustine of Hippo said,
I lay the benches for lunch
with jugs and bowls of fruit
and watched the Crucified
on the wall
above the abbot's bench
high above my head,
das Gefühl Gott in dir
the Austrian monk said
as I mowed
the monk's graveyard,
I sensed God
in me some days
other days nothing
but an empty wind
through the hollowness
of my soul,
come she said
lying there
on her bed
enter me
fill my hole.
Jan 30, 2016
Jan 30, 2016 at 2:42 AM UTC
Ich bin ein Dichter
Ich besprenkle Herzen
Mit Versen, Blumen
Reimen und Küssen
Vor dieser stummen
Schönheit
Die sich entfernt
Und die ich anstarre
Oh! Frau
Madam
Gott hat den Himmel geöffnet
Um uns zu treffen und zu begrüßen
Zwei Kelche mit Honig
Sind in der Nähe der Oase
Du und ich gehen schwimmen
Mitten im Sommer
Und danach, auf dem schönen Bürgersteig
Werden wir spazieren gehen
Was für ein Abend der Schönheit
Der Liebe, des Friedens
Der Freude und Fröhlichkeit
Vor der Bucht!
Copyright © Oktober 2024, Hébert Logerie, Alle Rechte vorbehalten.
Hébert Logerie ist Autor zahlreicher Gedichtsammlungen.
Nov 10, 2024
Nov 10, 2024 at 11:36 PM UTC
The sun shone on your last morning,
2 hours later snow fell.
Maybe this was you, gracing us once more.
You stood as a contrast to our black clothing,
your innocence, kindness,
against my guilt.
I should have called, I could have heard you one last time.
I am overdue for this apology.
It has taken me nine days to write this,
I'm not sure what was stopping me,
but I couldn't possibly utter these words.
We sat in a row, listening to old relatives speak about their past with you,
and all I could feel was your cold, thin hand grasping mine,
your large blue eyes looking for me with hope,
your beautiful voice singing me to sleep:
"in der Früh, wenn Gott will, wirst du wieder erweckt"...
I wish I could convince myself;
God decided it was your time to go, as you had told me he would.
But I know you suffered and I know that He wouldn't have taken you
before I could have said goodbye.
Or maybe this was His plan, to make us suffer for you, for once.
Dec 7, 2016
Dec 7, 2016 at 2:47 PM UTC
ich habe eine grosse schlange
es ist im meine haus
es ist eine erbstuck von meine familie
ich war geben mich bei meine vater
es ist schwarz,schon und muskel
es ist eine verzierung von die haus
es immer herumlaufen die haus
es wegbleiben die ratte raum die haus
bei so geht meine buchs and klotesich sie klied sicher
danken meine schlange fur gehten diese leute
ich du lieben sehr viel
konnen Gott du segnen mit leben viel
vergnugen!
Jan 28, 2014
Jan 28, 2014 at 7:53 AM UTC
the bigotry in me
proclaims you bigot-this-or-that
a silent death forgone before be met
the unapparent--yet habitual--whole you are
prereduced in pornographic quips
or tongue-slips given over to a politician's herd
remains in static symmetry's conclusive wan
sinks in double-speech's soft caress:
single, oceanic oil spillage shrug
,the value dancing buzz--
atop sommellier ****
Oct 17, 2015
Oct 17, 2015 at 2:51 AM UTC
Nietzsche postulated His death.
tRump proved it.
But gods are known to resurrect.
Apr 30, 2021
Apr 30, 2021 at 1:48 PM UTC
Wir haben keinen Grund,
wir haben nur Ausreden.
Wir haben keine Hoffnung,
wir haben doch Täuschung.
Es gibt weder ein Gott noch Teufel,
ausser sie, wer innerhalb uns wohnen;
wessen mittels uns entfesselt sind.
Es gibt weder Gott noch Teufel,
sie sind nur das Gute und Übel,
deren mittels uns gesät sind.
Apr 10, 2014
Apr 10, 2014 at 1:50 PM UTC