When The Mutes Speak
H
Hebert Logerie
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When the mutes speak
Nobody listens
When the deafs mimic
The priest, while making sense
Of the chaos or the rigmarole
That's destroying the morale
Of the environment, nobody
Seems to care until it was too scary
To go out. Bullets were dropping
Like raindrops, killing ants and flies
While the big dogs were chasing
Three kids carrying marbles, twinkies and pies.
It is no longer fashionable to tell it like it is
The rumors are ubiquitous. With great ease
Nobody cares about retracting the ugly lies
That are wearing out the intellectuals of all sizes
When the brutes speak
The birds stopped singing
And the butterflies invaded the ice ring
When poor people scream
The ground shakes like it was a bad dream
A nightmare. It is true that in an atypical dream
Countless vulgarians drink foreign made Irish cream.
Copyright © February 2020, Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved.
Hébert Logerie is the author of several collections of poems.
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