"marginalize" poems
I do not identify myself as a black american
I do not identify myself as an activist
I do not identify myself
As anything other than what I am
Do not arbitrate my existence
It will only magnify your bigotry
Do not lecture me
It will not ratify your ministry
Do not objectify my identity
Do not marginalize my sincerity
I know your criticism
It will not dwindle me
I am defiantly deaf to it
It will not compute
Trust me
It will only intensify
What I occupy
Do not subject me to anomaly
Do not try and direct me
I will not comply
Do not concern yourself
with my essentiality
I am not lost
Do not concern yourself
With what defines me
Just ask
If I am willing and able.
Nov 14, 2015
Nov 14, 2015 at 5:03 PM UTC
This is hellopoetry
I do not dwell on
Hurtful comments
Or negativity
The insanity of the way
Humans marginalize
And hate others
Without reasons
Without merits
Is like knives in my heart
All I see is beauty everywhere
Every human on earth
Is a universe in their own right
A manifestation of uniqueness
That can never again replicated
I’m here to write and share my thoughts
With those who cares for it
Give the world a snapshot
Of my soul and it’s principles
My dream my pain
my emotion my humanity
If negativity is where you dwell
I implore you stay out of my inbox
Highly recommend you read
Motivating things
Or maybe listens to songs
That would cheer you up
I learned most storms
Don’t come to disrupt
Your life rather
to clear your path
The challenges equip you
With the necessary weapons
And tools you need to
Spiritually advance
Therefore I’m stepping
Into your hatred challenge
With confidence and much
More wisdom than I had.
Don’t let hatred dwell
In your mind and heart
For I have nothing but
Love for you my brother
If you had my life
You would understand!
Jul 3, 2018
Jul 3, 2018 at 10:59 AM UTC
Sweltering insurgencies of electric power chords
Tribal reverberations of skin-stretched drum boards
Rolling and filling; syncopating the noise
Of the tit-less toys
The dick-less boys
Enraptured in the music
The anthem
Of invidious phantoms
My eyes hurt inside and
I want to pull them out and
Scrape out the gunk and rust
that’s behind my self-indulgent perseverance
so I can cry
for the first time in years…
Wrapping my hands around his slender torso
Licking away the paint, the dripping ooze; more so
Than hastening my ****** and mordant urges
To bite what emerges
And my mouth purges
The obelisk from underneath
The iron-pierced jester
The voracious molester
My hand tightens as I grip
his throat tighter and
I want to squeeze until his eyes pop
from his sockets and
laugh until I puke against the walls,
watching the ****** fluids mix
like an execrable marinara sauce…
I turned thirty while still being sixteen
The vivid beauty of the world was only in dreams
But none of mine, none that I can recall
Many years have passed since I took the oral fall
Where no one saw
Intransigent need to live
For the snake in my veins hungered for more
So many had their way
until I was limp and sore.
Defamatory fingers of mire and strife
Probing and stretching
My insides
And devilishly comforting
With limpid ambrosia
That’s infected by bilious worms and maggots covered in icing
And fruit
Amatory gauntlets fastened and secured over
Handless limbs that retract under matriculated frictions
That fracture, crack, morph, distort
Emphasize, marginalize
Rationalize, desensitize
Acts of *********** evasion, moral drainage;
Pieces, bits, chunks, sections, portions, servings;
Arms, legs, eyes, tongues, fingers, toes,
Love, lust, infatuation
Adoration
Boys, girls, women, men,
Angels, demons, monsters, humans
Creators, gods, titans, divas
All extended and limited from the minds that worship
Sanctify, mesmerize, glorify, rectify
While humans eat more, love more, **** more
Than the angels, demons, monsters, and titans
We ponder and cherish
Nevermore, for me
Ever lore, for all
Crows surround
And chaos found.
Apr 22, 2013
Apr 22, 2013 at 11:11 PM UTC
I see the sad color of racism not every other day
But every second of the hour, all minutes of the day
I see the serious mental and physical damages
That this cancer has done throughout the ages
And is still doing to our beloved human beings
The others treat our People like they are leftover beans
On a petty pet's plate. Our people deserve respect
Fairness, justice, equality, acknowledgement
Compassion, credit and better treatment
Our sisters are tired of being left out on the deck
Our siblings are often harassed senselessly, persecuted
Falsely accused and relentlessly prosecuted
At one time, they were hunted and hounded by the system
At other time, hindered and haunted by an organized medium
Created to attack, destroy, burn, ravage and annihilate
To embarrass, marginalize, ridicule, punish and discriminate
I see the color of racism, when the police for no apparent reasons
Stopped, frisked and handcuffed our homeless, our elderlies
Or our law abiding citizens, like it was open seasons
To hunt for mule deer or bears, who behave like enemies
Of the civilized society. I see the sick color of racism
When our people are not hired not for being unqualified
But because of their skin color; they're quickly disqualified
Dismissed, fired or terminated. I see the monster of cynicism
All golly minutes of the day. The arrogance is unparalleled
Beyond belief. The racists forgot that God only created one race
One human race, one human race, one **** human race.
Their false pride, their fake supremacy, their ignorance is unleveled
And their audacity is incomparable. I see the colors of racism
Not that I want to search for them, not that I want to find them
Most of the time, I simply cannot elude, evade or escape them
It is not easy to ignore the litanies of bad or negative mannerisms
The bigots easily function like virulent or venomous vipers
That **** out the emotions, and that destroy all positive characters
Our lives, Black lives, like other lives, are sacramental and important
And our contributions to the world are significant
I see the ugly and surly color of racism not every other day
But every second of the hour, every minute of the **** day.
Copyright © February 24,2015, Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved
Hébert Logerie is the author of several books of poetry.
Sep 11, 2025
Sep 11, 2025 at 1:07 AM UTC
Buckled at the knees, face in the dirt,
one can only pray for enlightenment, but
at a time when morality is valued by
silver and gold,
a baton twirled
is mightier than the sword dipped in ink
and sprawled across ancient parchment.
Men march in unison, into foreign lands,
while chanting words of a dead language:
Democratia Sit Virtus
Flag inserted into the land, the
obligatory explanation is written
on paper, covered with black marks, in soot.
Erupt in glory, a city once was.
Redacted sentences are had for
good reason:
to keep characters in the dark.
Transparency is only a concept that
belongs on the back of a bookmark.
Dust covers
clouds and envelopes the sky,
as dark and as black as superstition.
We speak with symbols, because subliminal
advertising becomes cogitative rather than
entering one ear and leaving the other.
What belongs in the border is bold, as we
marginalize open space, although the occasional
proverbial foot will cross the line. A slash of the
throat will tell you that all eyes are dotted,
just as some lines are crossed.
Like an olive branch exposed as thorns.
A proper medium is exploiting
vulnerability under rule.
Hot air is expelled when converting oxygen,
or exclaiming honesty and integrity;
lest we forget land comes from sea.
It is in their nature; our nature to build
roots underground.
Better to keep intricacies hidden.
Never is an iceberg fully exposed.
A brain.
The Temple.
Certainly a vault.
What you keep from the people
is for the people.
And common ground is neither
left nor right,
despite what you've been made
to believe.
It's about the courage
to think before you speak.
It's the courage it takes
to gather strength and
beseech the weak.
Oct 4, 2013
Oct 4, 2013 at 9:34 AM UTC
skins aren’t skins
in this world.
they’re
death threats
inked permanently
on your bones
covering your body
with scratches and stereotypes,
bringing bruises and bullets to your head
and the only way to stay safe
is if the ink is white.
skins are signs
to know which ones
will pay the price
if you close your eyes
you will see the color
to marginalize
warped in a wrapped world
do we even see beyond
what pigment we have
or are we
wrapped around a warped world
where pain is really
skin deep.
isn’t it strange?
we live in a world where
the color of your skin
indicates how people
see you and
the darker it is,
the more invisible
you become.
i wish
we were all
color blind.
Nov 12, 2016
Nov 12, 2016 at 8:19 AM UTC
Such artificial nonsense rhyme,
That can turn art into slime,
And make your thoughts not worth a dime,
And words a total waste of time.
Throw away the limiting forms,
Burn all the idiotic norms,
Old-fashioned rules apply to fools,
No one but me plays with my tools!
The new trinity is Me, Myself and I!
I set the rules for every game,
And follow none, just the same,
Anarchy rules all, and that's no lie!
Iambic pentameter? Pyrrhic substitutions?
Who the hell cares about those illusions!
Counting syllables and each line?
Grand, old, pompous idiocy most sublime!
Write a sonnet? I'd rather wear a pink bonnet!
But if I do 15 lines it will be
Why, 'cause I say so, doggone it!
And no idiot ABAB CDCD EFEF GG
I am GOD and rule it blasphemy,
To follow both hard and easy rules,
That can make heads hurt, you'll agree,
Or burn in eternal hell as reactionary fools.
There is more art in a cow's mighty ****
Than in Milton, Shakespeare, Wordsworth and Pope,
If you can't beat them, marginalize them from the start,
Drag them through the mire to raise me up, that is my hope.
From now on all couplets shall triplets be, thus do I decree,
Come to me on bended knee and I will set you free,
Everyone's a poet, welcome to the new reality.
Feb 14, 2019
Feb 14, 2019 at 1:51 PM UTC
Take your Seven Deadly Sins,
And butcher them with punctuation.
Capitalize on floods, famines and fires.
Express sickness, war and homelessness.
Parse politics.
Syllabicate and spell out for all to read
The horror of homelessness and apathy.
There.
Nothing's too real we can't fictionalize... marginalize,
Again, and again, and again.
Apr 7, 2021
Apr 7, 2021 at 10:24 AM UTC
Religious zeal and explosive prowess make incendiary bedfellows
searing calculating moralism where all fall short and deserve to suffer
self righteous corrupted calumny put forth in a sally of sectarian selectivity
your ilk is heading for Hell and I'm (already there) not
fanatical zealots marginalize intellectuals with their mythical mire of mucked up claptrap and copious lack of a priori specificity
a glorified preposterous plethora of pompous pontificating platitudes
the sins of others they deplore but of themselves they don't keep score
Sunday's best is Sunday's worst
you sanctimonious ******** just can't leave people alone
who elected you to point fingers anyway
Jesus was born in a barn to an unmarried woman
And your mommy got shtuped when you were conceived too
you don't walk on water you insolent impertinent fool
the brain police can't wait for Sunday's
oh the satisfaction of a mutual admiration society
knee-jerk hackneyed pavlovian dog speak
Is anything anymore real if you jump around and shout about it
recipients of adulates get accustomed to sycophants
fawning complacent obsequious kiss ***** and Sunday suck-ups
pass the plate
May 5, 2013
May 5, 2013 at 5:14 PM UTC
*A black and white world doesn't suit me
I have a visceral response to generalizations
that serve to minimize, demonize, marginalize
Neither can I accept an existence sheltered in grey
restrictively deliberating in the narrow space
between cautious optimism and healthy skepticism
The spectrum of possibility is infinite
when seen with an open mind and giving heart
at the risk of discovering beauty*
Dec 30, 2013
Dec 30, 2013 at 10:38 PM UTC
Why don't I meet those students?
I can be a teacher
I am a teacher
not teaching English in a community college
or NYC for that matter
yet a teacher
and I have Freudian asymmetries
I mean I am hung up on women
on old world literature
on promiscuity , racial mixing
tense ****** moments.
I am also quite frank
to myself, to my sensibilities
my self centered world.
I do have students
who seem to be interested in
chitchats outside class
those evening walks grabbing coffee somewhere
learning a thing or two
about life, men.
I mean, their chief complain
they have dated boys
missing pseudo-intellectuals
& everyday enactment of 'Oedipus Complex' in reverse.
I see compelling eyes,
provocative bodies,
keen to learn, waste and start from scratch
yet I don't meet those girls
who would rip apart my three year old marriage
keep me pseudo-happy for the time
have *** in claustrophobic venues in unknown hours of the day
make me quit jobs, sanity and pragmatism
marginalize me to despair and defacement
to
inevitably break up with me
so that I can write a book or two about it
Random House may be interested
and I would have to turn forty,
without a single care in this whole, wide world
Mar 25, 2012
Mar 25, 2012 at 6:05 PM UTC
A better choice in dulce vita
where the bucket list glorious of Italiano
still major in Tuscany with Firenze
where espresso and towering inferno of pleasure
which plenty now profane only marginalize Athens
while Constantine would have his chalice a true major in language
that Rome alight the world in gardens.
Dec 5, 2016
Dec 5, 2016 at 2:04 AM UTC
To you,
Substitute-
A mere copy,
Nothing more than a
Last minute stand in.
I am addressing
You and only you
Mr Substitute.
You who maliciously
Attempted to make my
Son feel less than;
You who with your
Contrived agenda
Sought to edify
Your unequivocal ignorance
Thinking that the
Young Puerto Rican boy was
Likely another statiscal
Data point representing
Yet another victim of a
Fatherless phenomenon yet,
There we were-
That Puerto Rican boy's
Mother and Father
At the school house,
Bright and early
To shine a light and
Expose your uneducated and
Ill informed ***
May we
You and I
Discuss politics on an
Even playing field
Mr. Substitute,
While in your little world
You fumble over
Your phone
Pressing 1 for English or
2 for Spanish,
Let me translate
Let me educate
You substitute
So that next time
You decide to
run your mouth,
Consider keeping mute.
Before you choose
To marginalize
An entire race
Let's have a face to face
Mr. Substitute
My son comes from
Those very people
You express such
Disdain for
Those people who
Have bled and died
For this country since
The first World War
Perhaps that historical fact
Escapes you
While you make no effort to
Teach the truth
You can't hide the fact that
They also bled and died
In the name of freedom in
World War Two
Korea
Vietnam and Panama
Iraq and Afghanistan
Serving, bleeding, and dying
Just hoping to secure
Their place
Amongst society
So that you can
Let loose your vile tongue.
Instead of teaching
The value of equality
And sparking a sense of
Hope in the young,
Understand though
Mr. Substitute
Both karma and I are
Far from done.
I chose to exercise civility
In my quest to
Teach you a lesson
In humility
A lesson in diversity
Oh how I wish
that were me
Looking back at you
In that classroom
Mr. Substitute.
Fortunately,
The blood that runs
Through my fiery veins
Runs through my sons.
Under no circumstance
Will he accept the
***** matter that
Effortlessly flows
Through your
Venemous lips.
Unlike you
Mr. Substitute
We are accepting of others
Even if you yourself are
Nothing short of
A misguided
Intolerant bigot,
My son and I
Refuse to
Stand idly by
Without exposing
You as the
Village idiot.....
Mr. Substitute
Nov 7, 2015
Nov 7, 2015 at 5:41 PM UTC
It is within the province of the personality where freedom finds its voice; but never assume that the freedom exhibited by someone else precludes their capacity for kindness and a gentle spirit; for what is foreign to you does not marginalize their humanity.
Apr 23, 2016
Apr 23, 2016 at 12:43 PM UTC
When all art is dead,
When dissenting opinion is all but extinct,
When all the crazy people you marginalize are healed,
Who will tell you that you've died inside?
Who will shine a light in the dark corners of your mind?
Who will make you ask yourself if maybe, just maybe,
Things are not as they really are?
Jul 23, 2016
Jul 23, 2016 at 2:32 AM UTC
A place - innocuous from the outside
Where resides, pestilence and ambiguity
A maze of vacillation where names are forgotten
In this place, the harbinger of unrequited dreams dwell
He is the maker of disillusion but also a friend
He never wishes to escape; I bind him with the disingenuous power of righteousness
When he is set loose, it’s with malice and slaughter
Vulgarity is his weapon, which he uses indiscriminately
As quickly as he is summoned and let loose
He returns to his domicile, weary
I fear this demon more than death
The relationships that it has overwhelmed
Too many to mention; too few remembered
Control is never mastered where flawed reasoning endures
Society asks to cage our demons
Confine it and marginalize its power
How can I when it’s who I am?
Aug 22, 2015
Aug 22, 2015 at 6:18 AM UTC
They say one cannot read in their dreams,
But I've done it.
Saw each word vivid as vivid as I know
Dreams to be livid and lucid armored
Inventions of deeper realities combating for
Essence in action. In motion. Awake. Again.
My eyes tumbling down like mounds of sand
When the wind blows searching for crevices to settle in
And marginalize and quantize the space between
Reason and faith.
Touch and sound.
But I dreamt words. Again.
Are they yours or mine?
It tasted of sorrow
-as do all words already do-
And each form of noted thought was clear, but faded
With each new word formed aloud by the voice
Suddenly questioning the vestiges of the unspoken hum...
But for the first time someone answered.
But who?
Was it I who read?
Was it I who questioned?
Was it I who wrote?
Was it I who answered?
Was it I?
Either way, it is still yet I who is
Bound to unknown tethers,
Arrested to both spoken and unspoken words,
Wasting away trying to remember
The answer.
Weary.
Jan 10, 2015
Jan 10, 2015 at 11:34 PM UTC
Sometimes -
I wish I could Photoshop my life
Instead of snapchatting every lonely birthday cake,
covered in dried wax because when I went to make a wish -
I didn’t know where to start.
A new camera?
A shiny bright white microwave?
World peace? A hand to hold without
someone else pointing fingers at me?
By the time I was ready to blow,
the static had already had us -
Like a volcano sinking into the ocean
I wanted more than anything to burst new land -
but I fizzled -
Sometimes I want to meet someone off Tinder
Right here and right now
plan to have *** and fall in love.
Sometimes I think that the only people who marginalize us
is ourselves - like when
You and I broke up, it felt like the galaxy started to get pulled in the wrong direction
Like - some alien black matter wanted whatever piece of light I had left,
and I almost let go. But if almost’s and black holes
were the same, I wouldn’t still be here.
Something balanced out.
And then ironically, I saw you at a gas station
Pulled over. You said you’d been missing me.
That’s when I saw the mathematics of the environment.
Binaries that gave way to greater purpose.
A reason to rhyme, I’d found it.
Completely astounded, I allowed it,
to take over every shred of second I had left on this clump of dirt.
Isn’t it amazing -
That some days, weeks even
I’ll wake up, in a daze, weak, not notice a bottle of water
on a table, or desk - and there are days
I will go without water, head ringing before bed
And I’m wondering why, water is gathering dust
my will to continue with you going dry - wondering why
wondering why it went down like it did
why, you were so caught on by something your mother said years ago.
For fuck's sake, had she been high?
Or at least tripping over her own ego - we will never know.
But that’s something I see every day.
People who smile, to get a smile
To smile, and I just smile back
Apr 30, 2016
Apr 30, 2016 at 2:42 PM UTC