#mining
~
*The day was orange
The word is yellow
Out like a light switch
Teeth a steady glow
The projectile's
Crisscross trajectory
Is no kindness
In the catacombs of this mine
Watch it leak
Watch it settle
What remains is
Subterranea, urania
Built to last
A moment to inhale
Before fade to black*
~
May 31, 2025
May 31, 2025 at 2:25 PM UTC
_***In the year of twenty twenty-five,
Pi Coin’s journey comes alive.
From mobile screens to blockchain’s might,
A new dawn breaks, shining bright.
Pioneers from near and far,
Gather 'round, beneath the star.
With wallets ready, hearts alight,
They celebrate this wondrous night.
Mining Pi was once a dream,
Now it’s real, a flowing stream.
Transactions swift, secure, and free,
A decentralized economy.
From nodes and codes, a network strong,
Pi Coin’s future can’t go wrong.
Empowering people, far and wide,
With every transaction, a sense of pride.
So here’s to Pi, in twenty twenty-five,
A symbol of hope, a digital drive.
As we embrace this new frontier,
Pi Coin’s promise is crystal clear.***_
Dec 22, 2024
Dec 22, 2024 at 3:36 PM UTC
I'm a mineral who thinks it's a miner
even if I can't tell coal from gold
I offer my excavated treasures to the public
only to be told they're rocks
by obsidian hearted pebbles
so I quietly return to my quarry
and get on DraftKings Sportsbook
who pays me for saying the Nuggets will win
pulling validation from the gravelly depths
and showing promising riches to be unearthed
appealing to my **** and wallet
to subvert my brain
but I can't just switch off and call it
considering what could be attained
digging deeper and deeper down
people call down from the ground
but they never cared when I was around
and I'd rather get gems for the **** in my mind
than get **** for the gems in my mind
so I continue my decline
until rock bottom is mined.
Feb 4, 2024
Feb 4, 2024 at 9:23 PM UTC
Eastern Montana Badlands
1930s....
Coal where one found it,
Scoria hills,
Layered lignite
Waiting near the surface.
Burning lignite beds,
Smoldering centuries old,
Scarring and turning clay to scoria,
Crumbling rock,
Testimony to lightning fires
Beneath the hills.
Crude mines backed into cliffs,
Pick and shoveled coal
Free for the risky taking
Heated homes.
Coal caves,
Low and gaping,
Horizontal shafts.
Wagons first, then
Trucks backed in.
Crowbars and picks
Brought lignite ceilings
Crashing in rotten shatters
Mounding, sometimes burying
Trucks below.
My father told me
How he helped
Chris Ginther,
Deaf coal miner,
Hammer holes,
Insert charges,
Long fuses, trailing.
Old Chris packing holes,
Tamping,
Tamping,
Tamping...
Lighting fuses,
Tamping,
Tamping,
Tamping.
My father said he'd yell
"We need to go!"
Old Chris
Seemed never to hear,
Tamping,
Tamping,
Tamping,
Until finally...
Sauntering out
Before the rumbling Thump.
I can see the two,
Chris and my father,
Just a boy,
Lost in lignite clouds,
Coughing.
Jan 28, 2022
Jan 28, 2022 at 9:21 AM UTC
The Stake
by Michael R. Burch
for Beth
Love, the heart bets,
if not without regrets,
will still prove, in the end,
worth the light we expend
mining the dark
for an exquisite heart.
Originally published by The Lyric
Keywords/Tags: love, heart, regret, regrets, stake, prospect, prospecting, mine, mining, motherlode, heart, exquisite, silver, gold, platinum
Apr 14, 2020
Apr 14, 2020 at 4:15 AM UTC
The crumbling, earthen stones,
over which I clamber entrap the ghosts
of those who left before their time.
The cool, glassy tunnels through which I crawl
threaten to give, and bury my corpse
beneath the boulders and rubble.
The creaking catwalk to which I cling
sways ever slightly in the absence of wind,
teasing my toppling doom.
The mammoth steel drums
loom heads over mine, their rattling
and rumbling ceased decades ago.
The rotting apricot timbers
wedged into the endless darkness,
no longer support the tonnage of slabs
hoisted higher than my eyes will find.
The wrought-iron machinery
long stopped in time,
lies warped by the weight of gravity.
The soaring windows
spider-webbed and shattered,
litter the floor with their fractured bones.
And the walls and floors
and ceilings and doors
that once bustled with the liveliness of labor
lie silent.
Mar 20, 2019
Mar 20, 2019 at 9:50 AM UTC
People are here.
I reach out deep within
to the place of various hue and vibrancy
to paint it in the air and on me
but that place is empty.
Jul 15, 2018
Jul 15, 2018 at 2:34 PM UTC
You can hear them if you listen
When the wind blows in the night
The people who once lived here
Who are gone now, out of sight
The buildings, many shuttered
Housed ten thousand at it's peak
Now empty, vacant, skeltons
Once vibrant, now, so bleak
Silver once was mined nearby
Thousands flocked here for the chance
To strike it rich, be wealthy
Uninvited to the dance
For all that comes with promise
The devil comes as well
With money comes temptations
As the small town starts to swell
Business and homesteads
Spring up where once was none
Lawlessness is rampant
The law is by the gun
Saloons, hotels, and harlots
Soapbox preachers, grab your purse
We all cannot be winners
That is just the boom towns curse
Like a zephyr in the desert
A boom town changes in a flash
Prosperity will vanish
And so does all the cash
The boom town dies as quickly
As a flower in the snow
Scattered now back homeward
With nothing left to show
The earth takes all she's given
The buildings may still stand
But, the mines are all now empty
There's no value to this land
Listen to the voices
The wind let's them sing out
You can hear them in the darkness
That's when the locals all come out
A ghost town is a relic
It shows the best and worst of man
So, listen to the wind now
Hear their stories if you can
Jun 23, 2018
Jun 23, 2018 at 8:58 PM UTC
Mining
**************
Unsafe, Hazardous
Polluting, Contaminating, Fouling
Waste, Blight, Damage, Liability
Spoiling, Dirtying, Poisoning
Tainted, Unclean
*****************
Desecration
Jun 12, 2018
Jun 12, 2018 at 9:25 AM UTC
I stumble in the blinding dark.
I cannot see a single mark,
Of light, of rock, of man or beast.
It seems the night will have its feast.
When suddenly a glowing light,
Emits from somewhere out of sight.
I stagger toward it, unaware,
Of a sudden thinness in the air.
A cave now seems to beckon me,
And as I enter, all I see,
Are crystals shining like the sun.
Like broken mirrors, dull are none.
My fear now seems to melt away,
And false safety is here to stay.
For suddenly I feel safe and sound,
Though I'm miles and miles below the ground.
May 14, 2018
May 14, 2018 at 5:13 PM UTC
You always said “I’ll love you always.”
But always didn’t last.
Your memories are a bulldozer
Just plowing through my past.
We stripped away the barren soil
And got down to the lode.
It wasn’t what we thought was there
There wasn’t any gold.
Now the ground lays cold and bare.
There’s nothing left of us to share.
We’ve divvied up what’s left of us
And left the ground to turn to dust.
We wanted gold
To free our souls and wash away the tears
But the gears of time kept grinding on
Churning up the years.
So I hold the gems we found back then
Closely to my beating chest
To recollect, to not forget.
At least for you, I’ll do my best.
Oct 12, 2017
Oct 12, 2017 at 4:17 PM UTC
I’d been standing underneath the sun for hours in the heat,
When I came upon a largish piece of quartz between my feet,
I sunk my pickaxe deep inside the rock which shone with all,
The pretty colours trapped within a gorgeous crystal ball,
The axe swung down a hundred times, the rock stayed the same shape,
And in my own frustration all that I could do was gape,
The colours of the magic quartz were hypnotizing me,
I’d noticed others resting underneath the nearby tree,
But determined, covered in cold sweat I continued my work,
To try to find the treasures which inside the rock may lurk,
When twenty days had passed I realized I had not eaten,
But by a piece of stone I was so sure I’d not be beaten,
I’d had no sleep, was miserable and fearful of the creatures,
Alone and in the dark now I could recognize their features,
But instead of marching home I bent and carried on my chore,
Beating away forever like the sea upon the shore,
A year had passed, I knew deep down I’d made no actual progress,
But I told myself the rock was smaller so as to defeat stress,
I looked around and noticed I’d been on my own some time,
The hammering of the pickaxe like some old forgotten rhyme,
And as I slaved on foolishly with rusty worn out tool,
I wondered why on earth I had been doing this at all?
Jul 29, 2017
Jul 29, 2017 at 6:11 AM UTC
The canary
with its
handsome brow
cloister monk
that quarry
with cow
that graze
coal an
edifice for
living in
climes north
in midst
a fire
burns out
into the
wind his
***** bowels.
Apr 29, 2017
Apr 29, 2017 at 6:26 AM UTC
In West Virginia they dig tunnels or a great big hole,
to extricate from Mother Earth the substance known as coal.
For centuries the coal was burned and smoke would fill the air,
but coal became outmoded and demand's no longer there.
So many miners were laid off as mines did stall or close,
and in Coal Country incomes dropped and unemployment rose.
But Donald Trump made promises to fix the miners' strife,
by saying he'd bring Old King Coal a-roaring back to life.
So Trump reduced the regulations that bring jail or fines
for harm to the environment from power plants or mines.
But all this is irrelevant - Trump has no magic spell
to make the world want coal again. To whom will these mines sell?
Trump may as well have promised to bring back the horse and cart;
for tinkers, whalers, schooner sailors, a rich and brand new start.
For Trump will promise anything and sell his very soul.
Next Christmas his reward should be... a big old lump of coal.
Apr 1, 2017
Apr 1, 2017 at 7:14 PM UTC
Roads stretch out, a lattice of scars etched into the land.
Asphalt and Tarmac rivers, crawling with lines of ***** machines.
Sectioning off nature.
I cannot hear the birds anymore.
A countryside blistered with towns, villages.
The sores of sprawling cities scattered across the earth,
Polluting the peace.
I cannot see the stars anymore.
Great factories spewing toxic smog,
Whilst mechanical beasts tear into the veins of the planet,
Ripping apart the landscape.
We are not blameless anymore.
We have ***** our world,
leaving in our wake:
War torn nations,
Plagued by starvation,
Human 'civilization'.
Aug 5, 2016
Aug 5, 2016 at 7:39 AM UTC
England lies below the ground
Chiselled out of diamond,
Blackened halls where men would dance
On floors of obsidian, twice removed from the stars.
Parlours made of coal.
Where man and beast alike would toil
Birth would grant them pigment
But birth’s decision was in vain,
When the sun began to fall, they would arise, of colour all the same.
Nowadays the men walk free;
Above
Drink pints in the morning, offer empty yells,
To that guy who came here to escape the shells,
To the girl who arrived here with three degrees,
And now scrubs floors down on her knees,
To the guy who works for minimum wage,
He could be writing upon this very page.
Spirit crushed under coal when the mines closed down
Now England lies below the ground.
Aug 1, 2016
Aug 1, 2016 at 7:50 AM UTC
he leaves his
window open
so the rare
wind whistling by
through a dust-coloured
day; in a
dust-coloured cell
on a dust-coloured
treasure chest lie
his faded blue
attire, worn and
patched by gentler
days,
greyed gracefully
to dusty black;
new wrinkles
on his face
weigh him down;
a faded
treasure chest
stares at a cement
coloured wall
over his head,
and the lonely
voiceless mist,
blinding; hear it
call
to rusty,
dark and sunless
sky, reflected
in his eyes,
when a bright and
impish countenance
eclipses tired
sighs;
the tired rusty
treasure chest
five decades
hibernates,
to feel the stirring
light of grey,
to feel new
hope, awaits
the cold and
stinging storms
that pour, taste
salty youth again;
the dusty
yellow rain boots
melt, ecstatic
in the rain.
T. E. Pyrus
https://lampteacupoverthinking.wordpress.com/
Mar 23, 2016
Mar 23, 2016 at 2:09 AM UTC