"undistorted" poems
December has arrived
You promised me a million things
You said you'd make me happy
And always be there
December has arrived
you promised to love me even harder
and make me the happiest girl alive
December has arrived
Your promises were undistorted
but I was totally wrong
Those were just lies
As December has arrived;
Mirthless smile was drawn on my face
you promised to fix
the broken pieces of mine,
Yet-
you left me a little emptier than before
a.r
Dec 10, 2015
Dec 10, 2015 at 3:18 AM UTC
Twenty ticks and eleven tocks into a man’s day, the second of seven days for him to pursue the affection of woman he has never known yet forever seen. Finding delight in the notion of interest with an undistorted persona that is his own. Relief that appearance is unimportant compared to that which resides within a blemished shell. To behold love within the unseen.
He shares his time revealing the secrets of his soul. Expressing emotional depth no one else could comprehend. His heart bleeding poetic verses transfusing the emptiness of existence with companionship. The bitter sweet taste of love confuses his senses getting his emotions twisted.
Souls entwined on the fragile plain of romance.
The second of seven days is now complete.
Dec 9, 2011
Dec 9, 2011 at 2:32 PM UTC
Rain streaks down the window
The wind blows undistorted from its creation
A sad small human sits behind that glass
Alone in the dark.
This house used to be filled with noise.
Enough love that the windows would glow.
Then, the rain would soothe the house
Now the rain tries to drag
This place back to that day.
That time that cannot be changed
The rain still remembers
How it poured down the face of the boy
Who let the world tangle him up
And loop his belt around his neck.
Now the poor house is left behind
With nothing but the ghost of the person inside
No laughter left to fill the halls
No one to admire the beautiful rain.
Aug 16, 2010
Aug 16, 2010 at 11:39 PM UTC
When we don't speak
All signals are clear
As if undistorted by matters
Of heart's flesh and
Ego's transparent frailty.
Whether close as Siamese Lovers
Or a whole world apart; I have the
Password to the Wi-Fi of your soul.
Apr 22, 2014
Apr 22, 2014 at 2:57 AM UTC
I awoke under a canopy
The vicinity was uncanny...
I remained inane, in need to retain the venues address,
I rolled off the bed,
Impeccable marble bruising my once undistorted mindset
I stumbled onto my feet noticing the luxuriant substances surrounding my loss of balance
Rootlessly searching from one room to another finding ones that only emulated the previous
An amorphous shadow appears before me
I immediately vilify the object
"Why are you holding me captive?"
I ask knowing I am no damsel in distress
Its stolid voice rejects the question's request of knowledge
Intelligence full of compunction fabricated by nadir of the time
I am lulled by the shadow's signs
I hope it will not be onerous to set aside the vestige of my frustration
Replacing it with prestige for the mysterious constrain of the situation
I annex the didactic without further noise
It has hushed me with persuasive manifestation of reasonless roaming
Until we reach a glass door
I assume it to open clearly, but to the touch I'm falling
Into distant realities
I come to realize I am standing on sand,
Observing the gray of the window to the soul of a moonlit stranger I will never know
Holding the hands of a madman whilst eyes of affection hold me
Feb 21, 2019
Feb 21, 2019 at 9:06 PM UTC
The walls speak to her.
They are so ugly and bare. And thats how she feels, ugly and bare.
She have no wounds to show, only wounds to tell.
And they become more and more of tales to tell,
surrounded by undistorted walls.
How does she not know these are not hers and they belong to someone else's?
How does she not know she was created and injected memories?
That sick little girl is no longer her,
and she is not and never was that sick little girl.
Dec 13, 2012
Dec 13, 2012 at 11:38 PM UTC
Your words fall on deaf ears.
Your voice I choose not to hear.
Your breathe wreaks of stale beer.
Get away from me no one wants you here.
Away from here years ago & today.
I wish there had been a way.
To teleport or astroproject so I didn't have to stay.
Towards someone good to connect.
Of me people continue to neglect.
Evil is who I deflect.
Beauty is what I reflect.
Loneliness is what I get.
My eyes saw.
What you did broke the law.
Because of you ma kicked out Pa.
Every fiber of your being has a flaw.
Your morals are baked & your evil is raw.
Your hands are like a devil's claw.
Unfiled & unreported.
My thoughts real & undistorted.
The "mom" I disowned is disheveled
Her house pak rat hoarded.
Piles of filth & stench.
To know your face.
Ruined my past I can not replace.
Here at home of crimes there was no trace.
Police said low priority case.
Heaven has been a disgrace.
You've been banned from that place.
Mar 2, 2015
Mar 2, 2015 at 1:29 PM UTC
Living in the City may clip your wings.
But there’s baklava, so….
You pay more to live in a cube
with a longer cube MacGyvered
to a money pit shaped like-
a square.
It’s all the rage
how you are.
II
When you formally meet your first guitar
you get sunburned.
III
Now you eat noise and incidentals. like profound Chicklets.
But your shadow’s sweet-tooth is another way to adventure
from your cavities, with sea shanties from False Hope
Or Narwhal hymns in bright typhoons
Like glass lipids
Burning in earnest
Where the sun
Has a brief chill-
In the panorama of
Your undistorted
Will.
IV
Like riding a bike
with Imaginary Legs-
That Believe that you
Actually Have
A Bike.
Jan 31, 2021
Jan 31, 2021 at 8:28 PM UTC
Witnessing the blood baths, the bombings, the massacre
Of God’s people, children’s bodies everywhere,
And octogenarians expire slowly and quietly in horror.
The undistorted and the vivid images of terror,
The ugly realities of life for millions; what a rancor!
The large plumes of gray phosphorus smoke! There is nowhere
To hide. Showers of shrapnel, unprecedented heavy shelling,
White clouds of death and discriminating lynching
Of everything that breathes, walks, runs and flies;
This is war, this is sheer terrorism! The God-flies;
Where are they when they are needed?
Our world should not be so muted,
So insensitive toward so many.
This is a shameful disaster, a pity…
To do nothing and hope for the awakening of the gods;
The worms, the flies, the rats and the tods
Must be happy. What an inhumane feast!
In this young century, we cannot find Peace.
The photos are real, and dying is not a joke.
The lenses of the camera recorded the blood soaked
Pregnant women, their babies shredded
By the wrecked fires of the big guns.
No one is spared: fathers, mothers, sons,
And even young girls are arrested,
Humiliated, stepped on and eventually annihilated.
This is the state of our human family.
Centuries old victims are now the perpetrated
Beasts that devour nymphs, angels and dignity.
The moon can only helplessly weep,
The gods and the geese are high by the burning bodies.
Terrorism is your vocation; falling asleep,
Amid this, is criminal, we should unequivocally denounce the bullies.
Big gun shipped helicopters can only destroy; they don’t make Peace,
H bombs only create more activists, more militants and more beasts.
Copyright © 2009, Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved.
Hébert Logerie is the author of several collections of poems.
Jun 7, 2025
Jun 7, 2025 at 9:43 PM UTC
Twists and turns,
gorges and meanders,
war against
the watershed
in a relentless desire
to be one.
Complication
is simple
as simplicity
cofuses.
Amidst the maze,
there's barely any haze,
every turn has an end.
A straight long highway
though goes undistorted,
won't let anyone see
what is there ahead.
Eye-sight is sure to fail,
the sight before those
who took the easy trail,
won't either be a help.
As they won't dare to accept
their wise unreasonableness,
dismissal of the their realness!
The righteousness
of the outer world
is enough
to ruin the natural reason
that reigns the land that lies in
the inner world of
green-seed possibility.
A leisure walk
in a labyrinth
doesn't promise a destination.
Then,
there's the threat to be lost.
Confusion
is a constant company,
as advices echo like an earworm.
As there's none
to pat your back
and millions of fingers
pointing at you,
with some dreadful derision.
You end up losing
the slightest peace
as
the precious perennial spring
refuses to flow
in ephemeral unbelief,
repentance wrecks
the very zeal of exploration.
The desire to reach the core
may sink
before meeting the shore.
Doubts may loom
as early as
you step out of
the wise path to doom.
Sometimes it may even seem,
the highway has all the peace
in its offering
for each
of us.
So at times,
the labyrinther meets
the mirror of mockery himself.
But
amidst the darkest of disdain
you must call
someone on the highway
in order to put the mazy route
in comparative sunray.
If
complexity
is your cup of coffee,
simplicity
isn't going
to make you happy.
For a change,
be a fool,
go deep down
the darkest wood.
Ask
the wise-you
to leave some space
for the fool in you.
Allow
the fool
to invigorate
himself
and
let
him
pluck the flowers
of courage
so that he can stand
the breaking barrage of
a game of illusions
called reality.
Okay!
Let's call it
what it is.
A story called life,
with a tiny
variance of choice
made by one
who
sought
an atypical approach!
Jul 26, 2017
Jul 26, 2017 at 3:52 AM UTC
I could've wished upon a star
for a little thing called hope
but I know-
hope is a fragile thing
so brittle people could drop it
anytime, anywhere
I thought
Your promises was undistorted
but I was completely wrong
All that ever came out from your mouth were
fake hopes and empty promises
a.r
Dec 7, 2015
Dec 7, 2015 at 10:34 AM UTC
listening to the riff
within winter's rain
straining overture
for evening's pain
scuttling rhythms
strummed into melody
feeding feelings
to pleading words
recorded, undistorted
with smoke-stained hands
glass tube glides
against weary strings
exhuming faint-hued memories,
bled from moon drenched rivers
molasses eyes trapped
in cobalt melancholy
play this heartache,
(it won't take long)
take this heartbreak,
(it won't stay strong)
till rolling thunder
floods song with sleep
Feb 6, 2021
Feb 6, 2021 at 11:01 PM UTC