"thefts" poems
Do not tie my wings,
Says the honey-bee;
Do not bind my wings,
Leave them glad and free.
If I fly abroad,
If I keep afar,
Humming all the day,
Where wild blossoms are,
'Tis to bring you sweets,
Rich as summer joy,
Clear--as gold and glass;
The divinest toy
That the god's have left,
Is the pretty hive,
Where a maiden reigns,
And the busy thrive.
If you bar my way,
Your delight is gone,
No more honey-gems;
From the heather borne;
No more tiny thefts,
From your neighbor's rose,
Who were glad to guess
Where its sweetness goes.
Let the man of arts
Ply his plane and glass;
Let the vapors rise,
Let the liquor pass;
Let the dusky slave
Till the southern fields;
Not the task of both
Such a treasure yields;
Honey, Pan ordained,
Food for gods and men,
Only in my way
Shall you store again.
Leave me to my will
While the bright days glow,
While the sleepy flowers
Quicken as I go.
When the pretty ones
Look to me no more,
Dead, beneath your feet,
Crushed and dabbled o'er;
In my narrow cell
I will fold my wing;
Sink in dark and chill,
A forgotten thing.
Can you read the song
Of the suppliant bee?
'Tis a poet's soul,
Asking liberty.
2k
You travel between disparate realms
desperate knights, with splintered shield
and cracked helm, black rose on their white backs.
Such void, from which universes are created,
where normality is clay, and plasticity.
Granting merit to my thefts
Your ink spills in torrents,
rapidly alternating colors.
But my black and white photos
they are beautiful too!
I never have known boredom
as a man in my own home,
such is my inability to understand
how you flit and zip,
I only have two hands and two lips,
to try and transform a gift,
from the norm, while a storm sleeps
beneath every syllable.
Countless bodies, devoid of mind
until swooping in they come,
it is not enough that I possess true feelings.
It must be the purity within my tainted stanzas
that counteracts the inadequacy of the volume.
Or some subliminal, or sublingual amplifying agent
or reality distortion involved,
which brings shapeshifting angels
gliding by, leaving tokens of bone carvings,
and charcoal drawings of what I choose to hide,
but simply cannot.
Sep 20, 2012
Sep 20, 2012 at 11:17 AM UTC
Rapes. Abandonment. Drugs. Guns. Kidnapping. Abuse. Race Issues. Prostitution. Fighting. Thefts.
What's wrong people??
Victims or Perpetrator why aren't we content about life itself.
Yes we will go through trails. No life isn't always fair. But; learning to love thy neighbor and help other people can make a huge change in Today's Society. If we learned to care for one another ALL OF THEE ABOVE ACTS wouldn't happen.
To my victims Please dont live with suffering in your heart and allow that person who caused you harm power over you. Take your life back forgive them for your self healing!!!
We Need Change
Todays Society
Nov 12, 2014
Nov 12, 2014 at 11:14 PM UTC
1296
Death’s Waylaying not the sharpest
Of the thefts of Time—
There Marauds a sorer Robber,
Silence—is his name—
No Assault, nor any Menace
Doth betoken him.
But from Life’s consummate Cluster—
He supplants the Balm.
1.6k
You'll always be twenty-three.
Always.
And that kills me.
You were older than me.
Now...
******* the futility of it all.
******* ******* it all!
I wish that I could punch a hole
in the world with my words and
find you.
I wish you knew.
I just wanted to tell you..
I just thought you needed to know,
at least once before everything is
broken headlights and crushed
tomorrows.
Blood and pavement and a median.
Crushed glass and a world
standing hollow without you.
I wish you knew.
I think I loved you once.
Think.
Coward.
I need to find you some days.
**** this tired world and it's
arbitrary thefts.
Your name should have a million hits a day.
You should have been...
My god how brilliant you were.
Like a jewel and like a genius.
You should have been forever.
I guess, in a way, you are.
You were a part of my life,
and a much bigger part than I ever would
have had you believe.
Did you know that? Had you figured it out?
Perhaps not.
A year since. Fifty-two weeks.
More in fact.
It was May.
Day after my brother's birthday.
******* it.
You were older than me.
October to my November.
One month that you lorded over me.
One month.
You'll always be twenty-three.
Always.
Forever.
Now...
Aug 24, 2011
Aug 24, 2011 at 12:11 AM UTC
I've got the world's best kept secret
locked in 2 AM screenshots--
her late night musings over a crusty joint, a crushed pill,
or some ***** cigarettes.
She sends me her thoughts,
fears,
anxieties,
insecurities--
at her most vulnerable,
absolutely the most beautiful.
Her anguish stressed in the digital scroll
(though she doesn't like Kerouac, I let her borrow my copy),
her stained fingers mashing all their hurt and nicotine
into the keyboard--
and her pen aches and her paper stains
with the unrequited love she empathizes with
in the somber pop punk songs that explode from the stereo
she sings loudly on cold and lonely night drives
(I shiver in her passenger seat).
And she made for me the greatest of mixtapes,
her holy scrawl expounding upon a dull grey donut-shaped
slowly fading form of intimacy,
a blank CD--
"This mix is a good time"
and when I jammed it into my car stereo I was illuminated.
She is so cool, she is so punk,
and in her clandestine drugstore car charger thefts,
broken poems,
impalpable aesthetic,
impeccable music taste,
illuminated or even further obfuscated drug trips--
I have the world's best kept secret,
and more than anything, I wish to share it with you--
so she can make someone another mixtape.
May 30, 2016
May 30, 2016 at 11:50 PM UTC
Behind your back, my love, my sweet cheat,
My mind, a wily bandit, in phases
Plan a series of thefts, culminating in a heist.
The shoplifter mind wants to steal a kiss quick,
"Take her heart, hold it to ransom"
My psyche, the robber, demands,
*Your soul in this heist, will be the captive-
Ultimate of my pining wounded soul.*
Sep 25, 2012
Sep 25, 2012 at 7:42 AM UTC
Our country is amazing, isn't it?
Everyone I know says so, so it must be so!
The massive crowds with flag pants
Decked out in red white and blue
A country for the masses!
A country for the massive
Beloved lady liberty!
Would be nice if she could marry lady justice
And all our wonderful freedoms!
The freedom to say what you want!
As long as it doesn't threaten others
And, oh no, don't tell them that!
You have to be nice...
The freedom of religion!
Were doing pretty good on that
There's only seven states that ban atheists from government office
The right to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness!
Holy **** have we forgotten slavery?
Have we forgotten that this country was built on suffering?
We have that lovely looking blanket of paper
That makes us sound so noble
But go deep enough in the south
And just take a moment to listen
Racism is still strong, we're still not open minded
We're a country made for the deceiving
And filled with the deceived
And let's take a moment to zoom in
At first you'll see our glory
All these beautiful cities
Buildings made into art
All our silver lining
But scratch the surface just a little
Were in debt up to our necks
And not just the country, individuals too
Paying off those student loans
Relying on social security
And being let down repeatedly
Even with that fancy four year degree
Can't find a job in today's economy
Dig deeper and you'll find the slums
This is our thickest layer
Drug addicts, petty thefts, prostitutes
Dealers, suppliers, a whole network
Trace it back and you'll find some connections
To our higher up, upperclass, upstanding citizens
Oct 27, 2014
Oct 27, 2014 at 11:59 AM UTC
High school was always mewing
Quietly at the window
As the window filled with rain;
High school had matted fur,
It purred and gazed attentively.
High school was constant prodding,
Poking, miniscule thefts of attention
Piled into mountains.
High school was false and sweet -
Saccharine and lemon-sour.
My friends:
The lost, the needy, the distressed,
The empty, the hungry
With open mouths stuttering
Repeatable predictable rhythms.
My friends:
The quiet, the wise, the brave,
The knights of an emaciated kingdom -
Boys with wooden swords
Defending me from the world.
High school was always shallow water,
Too loud laughter, music blasting:
A cacophony of nothing, three feet deep.
Dancing on the head of a drunken giant
Who for too long had been asleep.
Aug 1, 2011
Aug 1, 2011 at 2:17 PM UTC
Let us, my dove; just rub along as planned,
This is the place for the clever pipe to sound.
Should I be ashamed to live content with one girl?
If this be an offence, the offence is loves.
Let no one blame me- Emily, please to share
A dewy bed on mass clad heights;
There, you shall hear the sisters nine haunting
The craggy rocks, and singing the sweet
Thefts of old world Jove. How he burned for Io.
But if there is no one, who ever can
Beat the youthful wingéd ones taut weapons,
Why am I alone guilty of a crime all share?
Their chorus knows what it is to love!
Shall I suffer the holy Ivy to wreathe my head?
You allow me to pluck down the stars by hand!
For without you, my Emily, my heart is powerless!
Dec 30, 2012
Dec 30, 2012 at 3:42 PM UTC
Disconnected from time and reality,
The silence screams of dying opportunity
I feel it as it slips through my fingers,
The emptiness weighs of lead
The spaces were another could be,
Caving through my heart and head,
Until there is nothing but echoes left
I lost myself to loneliness-
And it has been the most secretive of thefts
Jun 10, 2014
Jun 10, 2014 at 8:29 PM UTC
Her eyes cut like honesty.
She destroys certainty
like the contact of unknown lips-
Forbiding me
A desired amuse bouche,
and I couldn't hear her decline your megaton of yesterday's drudge.
"How do I suffer you?" "Go off, do your hedonist."
Truth is a bitter transmitter.
It always smells of curling cinders,
that I have inhaled deeply
Either unlike indifference
that I've guiltlessly-danced out of denial.
I'll know who's true to me.
With audacity you admit everything.
Your audacity, I pull generous hands forward and hear , "Yes."
Audacity that I grant access to shared thoughts.
Audacity I.
Honesty can be shrouded in midnight
or as rebellious as a pimple on your nose.
There is nothing to be gained from insults
(Or Cruelty)
Discovered before caresses and thefts.
Without who I agree, some of the terrible places
are left unused charities
Either debt. As if loneliness is not a department store.
I know where I went right
She destroyed random targets,
unmasking her borrowed glorious virtue
And after you hear the burst of her AR,
she'll feel the measure of her worth.
It's all my fault.
A locked window was your denial
So I crawled through the basement window
It wasn't an honest defense.
Let me buy you the wine list.
let her obey.
Mar 24, 2015
Mar 24, 2015 at 1:20 AM UTC
Every movement
No matter how benign
Has its own Judas
Who won’t fall in line
Almost as if they fight
An idea that repairs
What is wrong and then
They give themselves airs.
They abuse the words
Patriotism and traitors
Naming those who catch
And watch them closely;
The guys in black hats,
Ignore the soot on their own,
Point and jeer at the others
Their brothers and sisters.
No sanity exists with them.
It’s clear they can’t think,
Don’t smell their own stink
But jink and cavort about
Like louts at a picnic
Completely forgetting that
It is they themselves who picked
The crooks they so abhor.
Once more they eviscerate
The thefts by the delegates
They sent to office to rob us
And blame it on us not them.
They are the very phlegm
In the national throat.
A herd of goats corralled
By their own crooked pals.
Then on reflection, they see
Something has gone wrong
And along the way perdition
Has set in with their permission;
They need someone to blame
So, the game of ignorant blame
Starts and lasts for years
While they have more beer.
Apr 10, 2018
Apr 10, 2018 at 8:37 PM UTC
Frightened, timid, and cautious I may appear
But a coward is something I will never be
Unsure, hesitant, and thoughtful I may seem
But weak is something I will never be
Confident, proud, and unashamed I admit
But arrogant is something I will never be
Lies, cheats, and thefts I have done
But a sinner is something I will never be
Weakened, humiliated and kicked I have been
But disgraced is something I will never be
Unwilling, unjust, and mistaken I will say
But dishonorable is something I will never be
Cowardly, Weak, Arrogant, Sinful, Disgraced and Dishonored these are the things I will never be.
And These are the things you have always been
These are the things I will never be
She said, as she died slowly
These are the things I will never be
Jul 14, 2014
Jul 14, 2014 at 1:11 AM UTC
It is commonly known
That THEY CAN NEVER KEEP IT REAL
from the most powerful man in the world
publicly revealed as ' a racist, a con-man and a cheat'
to the ***** scroungers and thieves in Bow, East London
it's inherited common traits in all of them from low to high
History holds a million tales
of, their LIES, DECEIT, THEFTS, HATE and VIOLENCE
Crooks, chancers, unscrupulous merchants blazing false trails
Conning and stupefying, misappropriating, stealing and looting
Sowing lies and discontents, dividing and ruling in murky fashion
without a pang of conscience they steal and destroy with a pale smile
With glib sharp tongues and dead eyes
and SOULLESS, IMMORAL, AMORAL, DEVIOUS and RUTHLESS
they manipulate, cajole, dance with satan and would sell their mums
as long as they have control, all elses are below and there're profits in
It's all about them and the world and all in it was made to serve them
because they know how to LIE. CON, HATE, STEAL, **** FOOL
and
NEVER KEEP IT REAL
Feb 28, 2019
Feb 28, 2019 at 8:39 AM UTC
Anmweyyy, anmweyyy
Everybody is destroying Haiti
Please stop, stop, quit. At last, give the country
A break, a rich season. There are too many bandits, vandals
Too many lootings, thefts, too many crises and scandals
On this impoverished and exploited island
Give Hayti a chance to live better. Give our land
A break with too much violence and injustice
Ayiti needs peace, love and real justice
Why all of you are hurting Haiti so bad?
This is sickening
Haytians, please stop being so sad and mad
Haiti needs everybody's love and compassion
This is damning
Please help Haiti in this time of destruction
Or leave Hayti alone, to breathe
Hate only knows how to burn, **** and destroy
The truck is about to kiss the rugged cliff
Stop the rancor, put out the fire and bring joy
Haitians, Haytians, wake-up to a new beginning and era
Get rid of the bad seeds and unite with the Diaspora
Unite to fight against corruption and waste of the aids
Be positive! Be ready to get rid of all sorts of plagues
Please stop the violence and use sheer common sense
Hayti needs a new and better season
Haitians, help our nation be an oasis, a starry beacon
Let's understand each other
Unite to be better! Unite to help each other and to dance
Let's love each other to be better
Unite in this time of crisis; and reject death and violence
Anmweyyy, anmweyyy.
Copyright © 2019, Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved.
Hébert Logerie is the author of several books of poetry.
Jun 7, 2025
Jun 7, 2025 at 8:50 PM UTC
As he opens the door his shadow casts
on the wall before me with his back toward me
He turns to the right, he glances to the left
with his old mind set to yellow alert his due
will arrive, I know
unlikely by knife to throat
but by the worry that drives such fear
and with the time it stole
every year for years till now
May you wonder
Were the lies worth it?
Were the thefts worth it?
--Because the affluence you spent on chance wins won you nothing
Were the spies in bed?
Were your blind eyes met
With the stare of vengeful eyes like you thought?
No, I know you wasted your time
--I know you and I know you've no time
Nov 11, 2013
Nov 11, 2013 at 7:46 AM UTC
I keep a private Scrapbook
You won't see on my shelf;
Stuffed with trivia from my life,
Known to no one but myself.
It's filled with words and actions,
Lies, cheats and thefts;
Nothing really serious,
But enough that I won't share.
Deeds I'm not proud of,
Words uttered to hurt;
Clippings from a checkered past
Sealed safely in my book.
There's some who'd like to read it,
Expose me for what it's worth;
They should proceed with caution,
They have their own Scrapbook.
Apr 24, 2018
Apr 24, 2018 at 8:49 AM UTC
I'm alone
And with nothing left
My heart is broken
All of my joy stolen
From all mishaps
And thefts
The past stores
Because I'm not perfect
For no one is
But all of me pours
Tears of pain and heartache
For the want to be loved
To have a peace inside
But I will never be loved
Because I am meant to hide
Stripped of pride
I cry tonight...
Sep 29, 2016
Sep 29, 2016 at 10:11 PM UTC
I remember those August days,
Trembling on the brink of summer
Like a swimmer dipping a toe.
I remember blameless hours spent
Drifting through the heat like a blowfly,
Indolent and
Slow.
I remember casual cricket games and
Cut price soft drinks causing a local sensation.
I remember the group gatherings behind the scout hall
To share cigarettes and have a stab at being adults,
Secure in the knowledge that such things were impossible.
Adults were a separate species and we would never grow up.
We were complete as we were.
I remember November, hopping from
Pool of shade to pool of shade like a bullfrog,
All to get to the river and fry anyway
A tangerine mosaic of sticky sweets and dry grass,
Of swimming horizons and excited, sleepless nights where
We would play childish word games and
Talk for hours about precisely nothing.
Yet, to us, it was everything.
A loosely jointed circle between the pool, the shop and
The park, in those days when icecreams were 50c and
School a rapidly sinking memory.
I remember the sun hovering above us like a polished golden coin,
Cycloptic witness to our petty thefts and juvenile scheming,
Striking down on our heads like a marshmallow hammer,
Making me want to stretch out and purr.
I remember the slow receding of the heat
When the summer scale is lifted for another year
And life must be faced once more.
I remember the web of friendship we had woven with our
Words and with our deeds dissolved under the rain of Autumn and
Left me with cupped hands, hands
Filled with the sugared water of my happiness.
Sweet nectar that dried soon enough and
Left my hands sticky, ***** stark against the
Bitter wind of the winter.
I remember falling off the tightrope of my life and finding
Not the net that I had never needed but
A drop that I could only guess at,
Where the sun fell away with quicksilver speed and
I was stripped naked by the wind left
Cold and shivering, hugging my knees as I fell.
I remember growing up and leaving my childhood
Behind like a skin I had outgrown, like a
Friend that I had broken contact with.
I remember coloured dreams breaking like crystal.
I remember being at the top of my mountain and
Tumbling away, away
I remember crying for my
Joy gone by.
I remember, one day I will forget and
Then I will have moved on and my hands will be
Clean again.
Oct 11, 2016
Oct 11, 2016 at 5:03 AM UTC
A Family Luncheon in Honor of Independence Day
The flag posted without enthusiasm
The interior doors locked against children
Whose mothers aver that their pryings and thefts
Are expressions of their authentic selves
Dutiful hot dogs, Chinese paper plates
Surgeries, diets, and bowel movements
Articulated in autopsic detail
And catalogues of recent family deaths
The in-laws sit for hours; they won’t go away -
Now speak again of Independence Day!
Jul 4, 2017
Jul 4, 2017 at 4:58 PM UTC
Deft left thefts with the right in flight
got your eyes jumping round on my gestural slights
with your mind thinking fast on the words in your ear
the shelf you were stocking was not magically cleared
Sep 14, 2015
Sep 14, 2015 at 3:50 PM UTC
Father
I pray to you
Cause truly i don’t know what else to do
The devils a liar
But I am a fighter
Fighting for your kingdom
Fighting for things that are higher
If you are willing
Hear me out
My baby sis is thristy
She’s in a drought
I pray for living water to flow
Fill her up so she can hurt no more
She needs you
I need you
We need you
Reveal yourself to her
She needs to see you
See who you truly are
Look at my hands
Don’t you see the scars
Death has lost its sting
With you is where we need to be
Jesus come back and finish the story
Life without you is really boring
I will fight till there ain’t nothin left
They did not repent of their murders
Or their sorceries
Or their ****** immorality
Or their thefts
Don’t they know
That the blood can make them clean
Believe in me and I’ll give you life
ETERNALLY
Jan 21, 2019
Jan 21, 2019 at 11:03 AM UTC
Tin’s in the shed
So is Auntie who drinks too much.
I often wonder, who’ll go first—
Mary Jane or the boy next door.
The sky was shedding tears yesterday,
Who died? Or rather, who didn’t?
Music rhythm swaying kids in the clubs
And overdoses treated as criminal thefts
There’s a crab cake on the table,
Don’t know what it’s for anymore.
No one’s left to eat, no one’s left to eat
And I’m stuck in utter agravity.
These lungs we share, saturated with
Drugs trying to revive,
And drugs trying to pitch overboard
I wanna just lay down and
Forget the stars
Forget the moon
Forget the seven billion souls
Cursed pits under eyes of
Grey scaled photos to hide
Paintings of blacked blue
Look, there’s God standing over all
Saying nothing, saying nothing.
See any miracle? huh, neither do I
Cause I’m not sure whether direct opposition or
Indirect consultation ever shaves away Alex’s eyebrows.
There isn’t an ounce of bread left
To feed those seven billion souls, isn’t that
Right? Cause waste from hearth is worth
Less than their left pinky.
**** tired of this mess
We livin’ in a cupboard, in
A kitchen full of paper thumbs and
Punctured eyes.
Sep 30, 2018
Sep 30, 2018 at 5:53 PM UTC
We all have our reasons
As we come and then go
Living life's lessons
Learning new roles
Not enough time
To experience it all
Life is a game
Love is the ball
There's a beacon Shining
From the poet's soul
Illuminating beauty
Every where it goes
Here we gather
And share what we are
Lesions on heartstrings
Immortal scars
Givers and takers
Losers and thefts
Chasing the rush
The creative release!
Jun 24, 2018
Jun 24, 2018 at 8:12 AM UTC