"generators" poems
I can't compute and become mute
When you walk by
My circuitry is fried
Because your program is an encryption
And your pulse is electromagnetic
My car dies, so does my phone, so does my home
I'm immobilized
And demoralized
By immoral ties
To temporary generators
They're validating veneraters
Ultimately unsatisfying
When you're still not buying
I'm attracted to your charge
Until there's a battery
Yet you're the cure to your lure
The EMT for your EMP
Your negative charge casts a cloud around my nucleus
But if you could be positive for a change
We could meet in the middle
And feel energy in our synergy
But as soon as I feel electricity between us
You shut me down
With your EMP
I can't get free
Oct 7, 2017
Oct 7, 2017 at 6:14 AM UTC
Excuses,excuses,excuses,
I am tired of you lazies,
For once why don't you handover your homework on time,
Thus, make my life devine.
Don't tell me your little sibling tore your homework,
Or you were absent, such bad luck,
Your grandmother spilled tea on your maths sheet,
Here, to give you is not fit.
I am tired of your lame pretexts,
Finish at break,I will be less vexed
What!You finished your homework and you left it at home,
Well, call your mum to bring it when she comes,
I didn't understand the topic, can you please explain,
What were you doing when I went over it again and again?
I started to do my homework when the lights went off,Sir,
Most homes now have inverters
or generators.
I know you find the tasks I give you a bore,
Do you think marking them at home I adore?
So, please help me not to spoil your break or give you detention.
Do your homework on time and with great attention.
Aug 11, 2018
Aug 11, 2018 at 12:01 PM UTC
ESKOM
Where do I start?
Writing this by candle light;
Yet today we are lucky,
Load shedding came early
The system is done,
Its broken, corrupt,
Time after time,
Excuses one after the next
Us we are lucky,
In some ways anyhow;
For we have a few means
To keep warm for now
Others are not,
In fact most are not,
They suffer, they die,
But ESKOM - care they do not
Yes it was once ok,
to be totally without,
But once electricity is introduced,
Its difficult to go without
Those who have the means
Have done what they can,
Generators, gas, solar,
Options are endless, but only if you can
To most the expense is impossible,
Of course we want solar,
We want clean energy,
Just like we collect rain water
Its nothing new,
Its now been decades,
Leaving people to suffer,
ESKOM one problem after another
Winter after winter
Just when its needed most,
ESKOM takes it away,
Light, warmth, taken away
People light fires with paraffin,
Then bring them indoors,
Just to keep warm,
In the morning they dont wake up at all
Where is investment in alternatives?
For ESKOM cannot go on,
As one of my cousins said -
The grid is often more off than on
I cannot complain,
Not for myself anyway;
I choose to live here
I'll do things my own way
But I do see suffering
Knowing a long winter is ahead,
With an overburdened health system,
Knowing every winter leaves people dead
How much longer will it take?
For ESKOM to finally close,
To open doors for others,
Its time to get rid of the coal
In a Country basking in sunshine
nearly every day of the year,
The lack of solar power is saddening,
And shameful, but ESKOM doesnt care
Yes we have fire,
But we also have rain,
Those two dont mix,
Cannot cook on fire in the rain
The saddest things is this,
That ESKOM just dont care;
Lives dont matter to ESKOM,
Anyway - they have their share
The few that can make do,
They can afford to.
So everyone else is forgotten,
Nearly 80 percent of the population
Its cold, its wet,
We cannot light fire,
If we do its outside,
Buildings no longer designed for fire
How much longer ESKOM?
Will you allow people to suffer?
Will you eat all the money?
Will you do this to South Africa??
We all hope for a brighter future; quite literally...."brighter" .. :)
Nomkhumbulwa **
May 21, 2022
May 21, 2022 at 12:13 PM UTC
Beyond the lights and glare and joyous cheers
Outside the pretty things prepared to tear
It glows without joules or generators
Without lists and traditional movies
between gathered gifts and exhalations
mini mall masses travel plans, traffic
makes meaning of monotony, trees of woods
burning bright before menorahs first light
unquantified warmth while tilted from sun
unnamed it's ether a summoning drum
Before Christ birth or Alleluia sung
Close your eyes and see from glance where it comes
More precious than 34th street miracles
the motivation of cold breeze on leaves
The reason for seasons found in unity
Where shepherds staff birth red white epitaph
Where plants of poison rosy the living
When wise men exodus for genesis
Seven lights or Nine or just one big star
matters not the name or time frame in bloom
indiscriminately celebrate the Ohm
Dec 22, 2015
Dec 22, 2015 at 7:51 PM UTC
Corporations **** the core
Cuts the soul to ribbons
Takes all the labor
And pays back in paltry paychecks
That barely covers our debts
Whilst doling out pain and exhaustion
But the people are good
Hardworking and smiling
Straining to maintain
That spark of heart
That remains
While paying their bills
And feeding their family
The shift starts
And tired bodies
Stumble in
Factory already
Rumbling
Like last night’s thunder
People laughing and chatting
Lebanese dude calls me Habibie
Grinning and patting me on the back
Brown brother give me a knuckle bust
As he passes by with a playful gleam in his eyes
One guy doesn’t high five but bumps elbows
The Congo girls speak another language
Beautiful flowing and musically rhythmical
The Janitor sings Motown
In this factory town these are good people
The generators hum
The machine sings
Doing their thing
Hoses circulate water
Like life’s blood
Taking in the heat
And sending it away
Bringing back more cool water
That does the same
Cooling the loud and hot equipment
While the employees are stressed and sweating
Wearing muscle fatigue and sleep deprivation
Like it’s their second skin
The machines drums ch, ch, crack
Ch, ch crack like a musical number
While the workers hustle
A smoke break and a popsicle
Then back to work
A lunch break and a conversation
Then back to work
Last smoke break and a phone call
Then back to work
Leaving the factory body hurting
But still coming off
The assembly line a good person
Dec 28, 2015
Dec 28, 2015 at 12:47 PM UTC
Blasting sparkling blizzards
White skies suffocating;
A ****** of crows hiding.
Chattering from treebark
Petrified little rodents (final)
Serenity in personified wind
Given shape through fog and flake
A symphony of schools of tiny pearly fish
Slamdancing in steam from generators
Perspiring the only heat (miles)
Needles on branches leaking natural
****** made by contrast of mother-of-pearl
Glistening from coral made in woodland;
Empires of organic respiration
Evolved into perfect lungs.
Let the Big Fish gather!
Stalagtites from shed-ceiling
Melting slowly. Cones sprouting
From ground of perfectly smooth rest
Nesting in honeycombs of golden hashish
Leaves falling from stems busted
Water filling up airlocks long since rusted
And the rooftops of cars and homes are dusted
A shroud of grey cloud, nothing comes in
No one goes out. Fortress, sanctuary,
Harmony, charm. Schools stop worrying.
No sharks, no wolves.
Only lonely, shivering coyotes.
And nestled cubs in bedspreads
Let your tongue out, divulge, reel in...
Partake...
Ingest.
Dec 28, 2010
Dec 28, 2010 at 1:33 PM UTC
*The unexpected snow, disruptive,
in ways more burdensome,
than mere fender benders and
swapping travelogue commutation miseries
ah, the tv reporters regale
with snow tales, human fails,
but where do you hear
of the children
burnt once by fire
then again, now,
again!
burnt by snow.
here, hear, listen here
technology moves forward,
grafting new shells of skin
on burnt children,
but tonite you're cozy thinking
of your valentine's heart,
not of the little ones,
whose hearts are unprotected,
by what we take so for granted
beneath our protective gloves and coats, scarfs and boots,
our prophylactic human skin,
theirs, fire ravaged,
now re-hazardous,
by southern snows burning
these children hurt,
unexpectedly,
cannot play in the snow that came so
unexpectedly,
lest it burn them worse*
"in the children's burn unit, postponed all surgeries except 'emergency'. Two days of outpatient clinic patients forced to reschedule,. That then, postpones their surgeries, second step grafting, etc. Our vents ran smoothly I heard via the generators, unlike last outage. We had to ambulance each individual patient.
I dread going in tomorrow but small comfort,
it will be warmer than my cold home."
Life first, poetry second
Feb 15, 2014
Feb 15, 2014 at 3:31 PM UTC
The river is dammed to
Slow natural flow
Inserting our control
On what was once free
You and me
Are now rivers
Full of power
And might
But are controlled
By concrete and steel
Force to move through
Narrow gaps
And to give ourselves up
To turn generators
Told our sacrifice
Is for the better
May 27, 2016
May 27, 2016 at 5:28 PM UTC
Over the clamor of the generators
The incessant roar like a hungry crowd
Your voice is lost
Dying over the sands
Wavering, beaten by Atlantic waves.
I can't hear your whisper
Over the din of foreign motors
Over the persistent pounding of
Pratt & Whitneys.
Your hellos are lost to me,
You have to scream
Over the home-bound rotator wailing
I can't hear you in the cabin
The distance is so great between
Your side of the bed
And mine
Raise your voice over the void
I've been calling to you for years
But the continued return of echos
Seem like your distant shadow
Is a mirage
You have to scream
Apr 14, 2013
Apr 14, 2013 at 12:16 PM UTC
Erasure & Found Poem from
"On Photography By Teju Cole in april 16th new york times magazine
--
You were The fast moving disaster of a tsunami
added to the slow motion disaster
of a nuclear calamity
Towns flooded
Infrastructure wrecked
Forests splintered
more than 15,000 people dead.
earthquake cut off
my external power supply
Floodwaters damaged my backup generators
Disabled it's cooling system
Overheating ensued
Fuel in three reactor cores melted
Releasing radiation
Everyone saw The water coming in
The roads swept away
Towns and harbors destroyed
Extensive documentary work
was undertaken by photographers
Of the ruins,
Debris,
Cleanup and relief operations
The gut-wrentching scale of destruction
The professionalism of the emergency crews
The fortitude of the survivers
The extreme uncertainty I feel
in our current political moment
helps me understand for the first time
the curious twinship
of mourning and premonition.
Information
about the tragedy
Sorrow for the suffering it caused
Gratitude for the work
that makes sorrow visible
Foreboding about the future.
An alert flashes
your phone
Something terrible has happened
Far away, a flood, an airstrike,
Soon, there's footage of people picking through wreckage
what used to be their homes
It is easy to pity them
Difficult to imagine this will be you
Suddenly bereft of a solid place in the world.
Listening to anything
that touches on the sublime
makes me apprehensive.
Like The silence that greets us
waking in the middle of the night
Apr 17, 2017
Apr 17, 2017 at 12:57 AM UTC
They are making a new Éire
generators whirl alternating fields
into current that flow
through the lamps—beams illuminating
corners once left perpetually dark
where muintir na hÉireann once lived,
but recognize no more
…the canals and the bridges,
the embankments and cuts
they blasted and dug with their sweat
and their guts
they never drank water but whiskey by pints
and the shanty towns rang
with their songs and their fights…
Dirt paths tied over
by an iron road now
over grown, carpeted
with inching moss, or, sunk
into the Tartarus black bog
now paved by asphalt
…they died in their hundreds
with no signs
to mark where save the brass
in the pocket
of the en trepreneur.
by landslide and rockblast
they got buried so deep
that in death if not life
they'll have peace while they sleep…
What will happen to the rolling pastures?:
carpets of moss draping dry-stack
stone walls; live stock grazing freely
on the misted grass.
…for to shift a few tons
of this earth ly delight
yes, to shift
a few tons of this earth ly delight…
Will the rails cut
this Island into an arbitrary grid
following the wave of the industrial
revolution?—Or will the cuts of nature
still stand evermore as the guide—will the road
cut a new line straight through the limestone
at the Gap of Dunloe, or will the pavement
follow the serpentine icemelt remnants
now inundated by the fog-shroud-basin-lakes of Killarney?
…their mark on this land
is still seen and still laid
the way for commerce where
*vast fortunes were made
the supply of an Empire where the sun
never set which is now deep
in darkness, but the railway’s there yet…
Apr 14, 2014
Apr 14, 2014 at 11:22 PM UTC
In the still and coldness outside, the constant hum of generators and chainsaws break what was silent.
The deafening buzz, despair in my mind, delivered by wind so violent.
Lives will change; foundations replaced, material things lost in a storm
From loss in remembrance is a way to start over and new life gets reborn
Gradual and forthright we start this new quest
Positive thought, the old at its rest
Rebuild with a new the end not in sight
One day at a time is a sliver of light
Joe Callari
Nov 3, 2012
Nov 3, 2012 at 1:37 PM UTC
My toddle begins to stride,
Prepared for the necessary curvature of my way.
Likened to a wave, dancing, moving under
The moons glow.
Her slow steady trance. Never ceasing.
My pace adjusts to this one too,
With much new Earth still to form.
Much sand to spew forth, build upon.
I, master of the storms.
Generators breath keeps tickling my throat.
Grasping intently on the edges of
My vocal cords.
The roar is heard aloud.
The time is now, the moments are these,
They prepare me for my victories,
When my hearts beat is fully read,
When these words get out.
Floating around, flitting, lightly calling
Prompting me to study it's source.
Now, fully aware of our course,
Our intent to be reborn,
The force that moves forward.
I relaxed, I've calmed down.
My fears are much less now,
There's more room to see clear.
The stars finally come out,
WE begin to remember they're always there.
Even behind the clouds, they await forever.
The moon chants along.
Her light skips along my back
Enlightens my waves pattern,
the lighthouse in the dark makes her power matter.
I just relaxing into my groove.
Very sure I trust Her light.
May 18, 2017
May 18, 2017 at 4:54 AM UTC
Intro: Is a horse pulling a carriage
Body: Program gene coders of food forced to encrypt humans into Slave-Server Categories of GMO Labels Ride in on the Carriage. Equally injecting horses with modified vaccines to genetically enlarge muscles naturally pull carriages to farm DataBases. Writing self-modulating algorithms tagging Guarantees to Glory-wiFI genetic code and control coming breed generators with Narcotic Eyes in popular possessions seduced past their ancient needs passed down for Capital Greed
Conclusion: Essentials of society is very much cabbage patch. Like a horse at the end of the day to keep it moving forward correctly down a wanted circuit board. Use its purpose for energy in ways it must remain hungry always be hungry for a hypothetical prize. A carrotEye Ply.
Jun 18, 2016
Jun 18, 2016 at 4:30 PM UTC
I am lost inside a small center
Exhaust fumes full off smoke
Sounds everywhere
Generators
Moto mobiles
Crying children
Talks and music
Fully confused...
I start counting...
One
Two
Three
Four...and so on
I tell you,less than four tycoons
Millionaires amidst hustlers
I know of them,
Humble backhrounds great achievement
Then how many are within here,
Thoughts alike?
Perhaps all of these people
Or alone I think of this !!!!
Society mixed up
Jan 5, 2015
Jan 5, 2015 at 10:49 AM UTC
You on the outside looking inward
at the outward glance of Mike, your youngest.
Bovine hands on bovine meal cutting the table
practically in half if the strength would return to him.
He's only 40, but looks 53
ZZZZZ's hurling out, nodding comatose, veins percolating tangled mess in December.
Chardonnay outlet, and there is as much as you can handle.
We are flowing in generous and dire fashion this evening a florescent turnpike of the county.
Lucky the generators kept the convalescent hospital convulsing and very much awake.
He's nearly dead and for a moment, after leaving your apartment, I could've swore I saw his ghost wandering the B-Side hallway, no shoes on his feet.
Dec 26, 2012
Dec 26, 2012 at 5:01 PM UTC
Up Cliff Road I go
steep and taxing beyond compare
Cliff's only claim to fame
is giving a name to this incline
At Cliff's apex I'm at the peak of my endurance
The resident monkeys swing across the branches
This is their last stand; no more running from grasping humans
The rottweiller at the corner is itching to clamp its jaws
around a hairy monkey thigh, but it won't be
Mike the monkey is a survivor even with half his tail gone
I turn right and down the road I go; Simpson Road:
this is the green and leafy part of town; the sprinklers are running
and heavy duty generators are whirring
These mansions are meant for comfort and effect
and the people here have money to spare but never do
Nobody talks audibly here; it's uncivilized to broadcast your conversations
I walk on past the heap of imported top soil -
someone here means to get someone to toil
to create a monumental fad to make posterity eat its heart out
The birds are whistling outdoor tunes, generic as always
There's a grumpy old timer by the corner, but today I'm not in the mood
for his nausea and his nostalgia; everything is disgusting
and nothing measures up anymore
Retracing my steps I go back up Simpson Road
and turn left into Cliff Road where the sight of the jacaranda blooms
is like a breathtaking sight of purple showers of rain
I'll walk this lane again and again till I am sated
Oct 16, 2015
Oct 16, 2015 at 6:55 AM UTC
Just moments after the eye stops staring insatiably at us
You can hear the flicking on of all those machines
As you walk down the flooded streets so slow
The violinists pull the strings, and on they go
One to the left of us, three to the right
Two in front of us, and none to the behind
The conductors swing their arms
The symphony clangs, alarms
Lighting up the homes and the tv screens
Chilling the musicians, and the shaky beams
Walk around some more, you'll hear one hit a low C
While you slosh through the street's home sea
Sep 21, 2017
Sep 21, 2017 at 9:59 AM UTC
Twist my arm and break my back,
let the salt and the brine Float into my senses
and the broken particulate spread into my toes.
Dig that oily mass into my flesh and deteriorate my cells
dissolve my ether
ooh
let the howl of your generators flush over the break of waves
and drill into my eardrums the winds of my mountain.
I just want your purple, smoky blues without
the greys and the sheen of oils on my skins
spread over my feathers
drowning me in my own element.
You're fire, metal
warped transitions of nature flexing your synthetic muscles in my face.
Sorry, bro, I'm just not into that.
Turn around,
take your auto-clogged
smelted bull to the sun and
incinerate yourself
I'm tired of your leering, thirsty eyes.
I'll give you water till you drown but
you'll still drink you greedy whale.
at least whales know how to keep the balance.
Feb 24, 2014
Feb 24, 2014 at 12:42 PM UTC
The grinding humm of diesel generators fill the smoggy night.
The sky cries acid and breathes sut.
Air is uncomfortably close; sitting on your chest and scraping your throat.
Animals die in unison falling on burnt soil bereavement of life is inevitable.
Sep 17, 2018
Sep 17, 2018 at 1:38 PM UTC
they'll never label us as "the stolen generation" because we are too busy being the generators of depression.
Sep 12, 2014
Sep 12, 2014 at 2:25 AM UTC
Vision glows as the lights refract
3:22AM, Mid-November
Didn't think I would be here
Not like this
It's almost winter now
The days grow cold
Each one passing with the same flavour
Curious is it not
The way in which the world falls around a person
All built up to service you and her
Now gone are the cities of memory you once inhabited
Filled with ghosts and whispers of times gone past
The occasional flutter of life sends recognition through these places
Sudden and brief
But it all settles back into the same fashion it was before
Actions did not matter
Force of will could not sustain
There were not enough generators
Now there is only pain
Nearly allied all of this heart and soul
In actuality, know that all was placed for the taking
Perhaps this is why the bombs fell
Maybe this is a Nuclear winter unwittingly asked for
Questions that cannot be answered
Faces which peer and tear
Lives which once lived now automated and predictable
Fill them up with all the light in the universe
The water from the oceans and the rivers
Bury beneath all the earth available
But finish it with a gentle and caring kiss
Nov 18, 2015
Nov 18, 2015 at 3:33 AM UTC