Griot poems on Hello Poetry

st64 Aug 2013

break
astonishment at perception
of
a third-world child making it
up that totem-pole
amidst paltry conditions
even
beyond the half-way mark

1.
a standing man
in silent message

and the woman in red
with thin-sling shoulder-bag
holding lipstick, weekly-ticket and purse
oh, how she frightens honchos out their skull
draped round her sister's head
shroud eternal
coughing
sore

2.
grannies recount lively *griot-tales
where hope is never barren
young boys play in swamped dirt-trails
drawing absent father-figures in the sand
the wind has carried them off to mines
deep in the crust of earth's ire
adolescent future sits on labour-farms
where keen spirit is dulled with worthless hops
keeps the sly farmer happy
and he tells them the fruit is free
yet they've already paid for it
manifold

when she reaches twenty
she will have at least two kids
whose lives lie in the granny's luxury

while she runs off to the golden city-lites
to jump through higher hoops
for ****** spoils
all cheapened by long-term neglect

3.
there lies hope
unlost
in every girl-child
who goes to school
who finds encouragement
from words kindly given
if but from a stranger

no hand-me-outs
no forlorn begging

she...
the empowered mother of boys
will
help them to grow
into young men
of such sensibility
as to keep their hands
to deeds of honour

who, in turn
become fine fathers to daughters
they love and cherish
raise to be
luminary

each step up
from that totem-pole
such a steep climb
strengthens invisible wings
and unworldly rewards

and when final rung is reached

heralds

untainted take-offffffff......

S T, 27 aug

much ado about what really matters.
let's clamour for education . . . for all :)

sub-exit: good-key

the good key lies in the hands
of the soul
who holds
that key :)

pssssst....
toodley-too!

http://m.youtube.com/watch?v=PzpWKAGvGdA&desktop;_uri=%2Fwatch%3Fv%3DPzpWKAGvGdA

Geno Cattouse Sep 2013

Duende #2

From a whisp
To menacing imp.
Jungle rot. Panic ****.
See how they run.

Granny told me tales that they told her
That they heard from the griot.

The duende. Walks with feet turned back.
Conceal his intentions.. a stalking moon.
A loon ? Oh no. Real to the night.
Blood red eyes pierces the soul.

Duende. Spirit. Beast.
Sprang from the bowels of hell...the stifled dreams
Of the children. Cowed by the dark.
One left to fend. One
Found the ark.
Ta ta duende.
Know who he is ?

Nightmare amalgam
Sum of all fears. Grandma ... scared dog **** outa me.

Geno Cattouse Feb 2013

The Circle

Feet firmly planted.
Eyes peering into ciy lights . My old friends had waited patiently.
The merry go round would stop.  The hurdy gurdy would stop with
Deafening silence. As if what.

As if the token was never paid.
As if the effort was never made.
As if the book ran out of pages with no happy ending.

Optional. Washed away.  History told by the one eyed griot
Who had long since gone deaf.long ago lost a marble. But could not
Do the tally.

As if nothing matters but the most recent revision.
As if trutth was a street walker working for her next fix.
As if the distortion was a virtue.

Years in the salt mines. Drudgery and dillusion paassing for
Infinite hope.  The yolk bit deep the lash was a given annointed
as saviour.

As if the piper played for gratis.
As if the contract was written in wine.
As if one side payed while the other played.

Blood is thicker than *****
Like minds meld in commonality.
The twig lays close to the branch

As if that is the last word.
As if all is wellin mudvill.
As if Casey put it over the fence.
As if.

Victor Attah Jun 2016

Ali (Lord of the Ring).

King kong!
You've heard of his rumble in the Jungle,
his mumbles and his jumbles,
his jabs and yabs
And the thriller in manila.
He was lord of the rings,
marabout of his bouts,
griot of his fights.
The master of the shuffle and the rope-a-dope
Was dope and made the dough.
I heard of his wits and his fist,
Of the ease of his wrist
And the gist of his float,
He fluttered with his feet
Then stung like a bee
His belt was his crown
In his robes he was king
None can contest
He was lord of the ring.

Hebert Logerie Oct 30

Ils Mangent De Bons Chiens Chauds

Ils consomment des chiens chauds, hot dogs
Aussi
Comme vous
Mais ils ne mangent pas de chiens
Jamais, jamais
Ils ne mangent pas de chats
Ils ne mangent pas d'animaux de compagnie
Jamais, jamais.

Les immigrants mangent des sangliers
C'est du ‘Griot piqué’
Ils ne mangent pas de lapins
Mais ils mangent du ‘Tasso épicé’
Et bien sûr, ils mangent des hot dogs, des chiens chauds.

Les Haïtiens mangent et boivent de la Soupe Joumou
Dans laquelle nagent des légumes et bien sûr des carottes
La cuisine haïtienne
Est très, très bonne
Les immigrants consomment de bonnes viandes
Comme vous.

Arrêtez d'être raciste
Arrêtez d'être fasciste
Vos ancêtres mangeaient des chiens
Pas les immigrants, pas les Antillais
Et surtout pas les Haïtiens
Arrêtez cette haine honteuse
Pensez à votre sort
Au dernier rendez-vous
Les immigrants mangent des cochons frits
Comme des milliards d'Américains
Qui aiment les tartes aux pommes
Arrêtez les mensonges, arrêtez tous les mensonges.

P.S. Traduction de ‘They Eat Good Hot Dogs’.

Copyright © Octobre 2024, Hébert Logerie, Tous droits réservés.
Hébert Logerie est l'auteur de nombreux recueils de poésie.

Haitians do not eat dogs or pets

#hot #dogs #racism #discrimination #election #lies #truth #fascism #immigrants #racist

We Are Stories Dec 2020

ihn a poosh sichooation

Thick smoke spit
My tonic
Swell eyes split
Black cloud fix
Late night drips
Late night sips
Sipping up sap
Sapping up tipsy
Tap taps on the tips
Watch the floor lifting
Shifting
Smash, crackle crispy
Crunch mc nuggets
Four AM grizzly
Grizzle grease griot
Giving slurred wispily
Words like the feet
Falling faster swiftly
Like the head shoulder
Knees toes tickling
The senses of motion
Devotion to sick things!
Sick things!
Sick things!
Few friends out late
Grab a cake
Grab a mate
Grab a bake
Grab a fate
Drive it fast
Make it last
Make it crash
Make it all end quickly!
Quickly!
While she sleeps softly
Coughing up blood
Never felt haunting
Wanting her to wake up
Like the day's drugs scoffing
I'm the same drunk drugged up mug
With a lie stuck to the name like made up love
Like made up stories of truth masked with icing on top
Like the cherry minus vanilla, minus chocolate, minus ice cream, minus nice things
Minus life, minus death, minus point, minus breath, minus art, minus stability, minus self sufficient tranquility!
Find life
Find it right
Find it tonight
Find it before it's time
Find it before it's out of sight
Find it before your friends dead in head lights
Find it before you're a murderer plastered on the headlines
Find it before you find out that you wasted all this time on bad highs
Bad rhymes
Pushing away coffee cake
And pineapple plates
For a daily dose of dead drives.

#fast #crash #speedrun #death #rhyme

Lee's Tipsy Daisy Jan 2021

Nothing ever Changes

The messes
The faces
The curses
The presses
The aces
The purses
The ages
The adages
The appendages,

Enough about me, she fell in love with a coaster, a toaster, a boaster and a griot above all else. It was all vain. He cried in her arms and never got up. **** this stranger, give him life, give him head and head out to town. Mental gratuity brings back memories, and memories bring back, relieve closure, relive. Grieve, and agree. Do you see me? Stop looking at me.

I resign on a bad note, my friend died this morning. I choked her silently in the cold room, I am now afraid to leave the house, her clothes are still on the bed. Memento mori.

I'm stressed out! Schizophrenic possibly. Sick tonight.

Hebert Logerie Oct 27

They Eat Good Hot Dogs

They consume hot dogs
Too
Like you
But they don’t eat dogs
Never, ever
They do not eat cats
They do not eat pets
Never, never.

Immigrants eat wild boars, wild hogs
That’s hot Griot
They don’t eat rabbits
But they eat spicy Tassot
And of course, they eat hot dogs.

Haitians eat and drink Soup Joumou
Which contains vegetables and of course carrots
Haitian food
Is very, very good
Immigrants consume good meats
Like you.

Stop being racist
Stop being supremacist
Years ago, your ancestors used to eat dogs
Not immigrants, not West Indians
Not Haitians
Quit the hate
Think about your fate
On the final date
Immigrants eat fried wild hogs
Like zillion of Americans
Who love apple pies
Stop the lies, stop all the lies.

Copyright © October 2024, Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved.
Hébert Logerie is the author of numerous collections of poetry.

#hot #dogs #haitian #cuisine #food #cats #lies #apple #pies #racism

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