"urbanization" poems
Better Philippines.. Go Federalism Now!
R oad to a new Republic of the Philippines
o nward to the era of Federalism government
d ays are gone when power is handled by the few
r ich pen become richer and the poor even poorer
i t's time our country will be run by a man with a vision
g overn the Philippines according to the will of the majority
on the basis of basic rights and privileges as local citizens.
R eal leader is someone who stands for the people
o n the realization of their basic needs and ambitions
and who leads by example and can implement the laws.
D uterte is the man of the hour
u nder Federalism form of government
t he local government can obtain bigger budget
e xtracted from its own income and tax collection
r ealistic projects of the LGU can be materialized
t hen better and faster urbanization will implemented
end the corruption and criminality, support the President!
Oct 9, 2018
Oct 9, 2018 at 12:33 AM UTC
Practicality is the reality
of ignominious totality
the devices of all sizes
and the grammatical mentality
of systematic duality.
Punctuation is the **********
the *********** of every generation
the permutation and saturation
of wordsmith temptation for re-calibration
the aberration and consternation
that leads to misinformation
and condemnation and annihilation
of the constellation colloquial conversation
the abomination of language urbanization
the fermentation and ionization
of linguistic complications
the desolation of commas and semi-colons
the affirmation of their vs they're
the augmentation of amalgamation
is just the lyrical ************
of a hooded basketball top nation
the culmination of devastation
the gestation and interpolation
that leads to appreciation isolation
and justification acceleration
the modification and assimilation
of poorly-worded implementation
and the contamination of myriad exploration
alienation in illumination
punctuation is the salvation of documentation
against the tides of violation
and the extermination of regurgitation
the classification of discrimination
and last but not least
the liberation of misrepresentation.
Jul 3, 2014
Jul 3, 2014 at 10:49 AM UTC
Urbanization by Dakota Pizzi
Theres a house of Fallen Timber,
Not far from me or you,
That flourished once in the summer When the sky was Golden hues.
Its been trampled down by the people of hardened stone,
Who are cold to nature's many unknowns.
So they chop away and burn it down As gray clouds fill the sky,
And what's left of her majesty the forest,
Is nothing but my lonely sigh.
Apr 26, 2014
Apr 26, 2014 at 5:57 PM UTC
A nature scene memorialized
in brushstrokes and pigments of color.
A painting to be hung on a wall
and admired from across the room
There’s no longer a need to visit
a habitat that is gone too soon.
While urbanization continues
placing wildness behind the dollar.
Apr 19, 2016
Apr 19, 2016 at 12:44 AM UTC
A raccoon, gray tail still intact, head askew across the highway
Left to decompose on the county road, under spring’s thawing sun.
A sadness swells my throat, a differing of points of view
Where wild used to be, the raccoon mistakes concrete for dirt
Headlights for predator eyes, glowing in the complete night
Crushed undertire, underfoot, underpaw—
Sweep his carcass off that once-grass gravel
The fields of wildflowers and sideoats grama
Given way to industrialism, to a streak of urbanization
So far out in the sticks that even the animals do not know
Where the country ends and the city now begins.
Jul 27, 2021
Jul 27, 2021 at 1:59 AM UTC
Village life, now not the same
Where the relationship is, it's not sweet
Where there is soil but no fragrance
Where there is a pond, but no water
Where mangoes are showered, but do not smell fragrant
Village life, now not the same
Here people are done
People got hungry for happiness
Villages are now transformed into cities
The villages are now dazzled
In the blessings of the elderly
Which was a feeling of affection
In western culture, somewhere gone extinct
Feeling of celebrating together
Burned in a furnace like separation time
Village life, now not the same
Where does man have time to meet man
Humanity and brotherhood lost in urbanization
The intoxication of modernism engulfed everyone
Love that was deceit, it became a show
Every person escapes for money
The house of faith is now a ruin
Village life, now not the same......
Aug 17, 2020
Aug 17, 2020 at 12:32 AM UTC
Her thoughts so weary and bitter tasting
Forevermore to feel tired and wasted
Aging dreams and makeup nights
Feet so high she hits the lights
Falling for the guile of each street salesman
He opens his jacket; "Each is a haven,"
Claims of lightposts, illumination of the dark
She's falling asleep on a bench in the park
Urbanization of hardy measures
Have tempted her to indulgent pleasures
Whiskey whiffs of fallen kings
Street lights showing off the obscene
The days are gone of lasting serendipity
She's misplaced in what was once her own city
Nov 6, 2014
Nov 6, 2014 at 2:47 PM UTC
Bored living in the tombs
Those turned to names of cities
Where we live and visit until
Too many of them are carved on stones
Openly standing books
Echoing our names on the bills
Sent by devil or in Dave's name sometimes
Street signs, silent police?
Scary if you know they were those
Underground names now holding posters
Directing you to your tomb home
Until a square-meter palace is sold to you
These revolutionary thinking reformers
Who called themselves gravediggers
All names have to be digged out now 'cause
They are running short of lands to continue
Urbanization. Hear what they say:
You could die eternally but this cemetery
Can only be used for 70 years, legally
Your cinerary caskets will be displayed
In sky-high buildings, closer to the heavens
Lucky if yours is made of sandalwood
Carved and painted as Red Mansion where
You could have wonder-ful dreams
Your friends and enemies could smell
The phosphorous glowing in the wind
Feb 17, 2016
Feb 17, 2016
Feb 17, 2016 at 1:58 AM UTC
while out and about
an unexpected over bare ring bout
to defecate arose,
where sphincter asserted clout
and would excrete
despite without doubt...
if closing distance
(to reach rental abode)
beaten out by loosening sphincter muscle
transmitting excretory code
set sights on prowl for outlawed, secluded,
and wooded make shift commode
and essentially for naught negating
toddler toilet training, sans
getting ***** trained undone
via my ***** ready to explode
and blast immense solid waste byproduct
(oh...close to the size of Rhode Island)
thus a marathon race against time
found immediate readiness to pull off roadside
to access make shift water closet
generating image firmly in pooping mode
grabbing hold of a tree trunk
(a mini rocky horror picture show, -
this analogy included for no particular reason
other than as a non-sequitur)
and also to convey, how I tried
to allay distractions
while painful contractions flowed
(perhaps approximating a woman
on verge of giving birth)
but...no matter, aye could envision,
an ever increasing heavy m**f*** load
hence approaching Highland Manor Apartments
this chap abandoned
prior simultaneous evacuation plan
starkly aware probability for secluded spot sunk
(nonetheless, thy darting darting
anguish, futile lizard like lookout,
a geico Gekko whose cheeks did blush
even for a measly Georgian bush
quickened nsync with ****** spasms
visual scouting industrialized
where backhoes didst crush
once a time sacred happy hunting grounds
of native Americans, now flush
with newly built vinyl city re: urban sprawl a gush,
where cookie cutter houses long since bringing hush
puppies muzzled, yet never the less and mush
a doo doo about nothing) except sprint
ting to a void push
immortalizing indigenous tribes ghosts rush
peopling infrastructure affixing
urbanization with their warrior whoosh!
Apr 19, 2018
Apr 19, 2018 at 4:25 PM UTC
I remember the lights going off in the brains of young poets.
Deep in the dank streets of New York or Columbia college.
When the blues and twos would come and round up
The beatniks snapping to the howl of a homosexual mind.
When the generational attitudes of those too old to know,
Control the ****** acts of “violence”, or
The deepening scars of our philosophies.
When the urbanization of historical prowess leads to
Gentrified gypsies of the diamond deserts and endless skyways
When the great in the country isn’t good enough
For the red hats and spray tanned millionaires.
When the stocks of corporate dragons burn down
The attempts of upstart knights and online kingdoms.
When the politicians of old become the scapegoats
For the ironically gerontocratic few.
When the female few who dared couldn’t find their lost primaries
Or control the lifeblood leaking out of the Strait of Hormuz.
When the powerful and powerless fought in-between
The dejected and all too often ignored.
When the powered halogen lights flooded prison yards of
Wrongly convicted and murderously in need of help.
When the San Francisco clubs lit up with muzzle flash
And the dancers lay weeping in their blood.
When the schools became places to duck and cover
Or learn to trip a friend when running from a gun.
When parkland high became a manufacturing ground
For casings, tears, and candlelight vigils.
When the American dream came combo packaged
And supersized with obesity and unemployment.
When the education of the youth became about
The profit margin in a spreadsheet full of debt.
When the sun sets in the smoke filled horizons
And sleepless rest settles on the western front.
Dec 4, 2020
Dec 4, 2020 at 1:16 AM UTC
February 28th, 1968 marked the date
Boyce Brandon Harris
(my octogenarian widower father)
purchased a small tract of land
constituting shadowed sliver
once hailing, hallmarking, harkening,
glorious vast "Glen Elm" estate,
which circa 1910 encompassed
a hundred plus acres of woodland
Pooh would Winnie
(including a pond frequented
by migrating Canadian Geese)
eventually zoned for commercial,
industrial, and residential development
(all in the name of productive land use)
particularly put into motion
courtesy Donald J. Neilson,
who transformed expansive woodland
rivaling shutterfly
sprouting like mushrooms towed stools
booming explosively
after ample precipitation
little houses on the hillside
little houses made of ticky tacky...
popped up overnight
transforming landscape
displacing flora and fauna with vinyl city
(minus spit of property papa bought)
manicured bumped uglies with wild wisp
reduced pristine niche leftover jot haven
squawking disoriented geese instincts
thwarted, where drained wetlands
a Arcadian past suburbanization
overlaying (palimpsest like) rural setting
trademark bucolic print Currier And Ives
stock in trade signature prints
landscape sparse human population
country aire sprinkled with family farms
fresh dairy, produce, vegetables
butchered animals free ranging
without synthetic injections
nostalgia faintly recreated here
Highland Manor Apartments
Schwenksville, Pennsylvania
a slip of country revered
against a Paul Ling urbanization
nothing appears familiar
retracing roadways now major highways
frequent moments breeds alienation
familiar ground confusing, frightening, and perplexing.
May 17, 2018
May 17, 2018 at 8:57 PM UTC
September 29th, 2020
Air from Terra Rising
Quivering in the Mountains
Rocks Rumble Beneath Earth, & One’s Feet
Wind Blares Down on All of Us
Nature Plays Tambourines – Touching Each of Our Ears
Terrene Mother Drums her Hands’ Down on the Planet’s Crust
Manmade Iron Rails Roll their Human Cargo through Scenic Landscapes
Man - in their Fibbing Imaginations’ Believe that they Overcome the Mountain’s Rocks & Horns
Sights Behold, & Sights Lost in Time
A World Without Flesh Arrives with Urbanization
Voices Born & Silenced through Oppression
Mothers Can’t Pay for Milk,
Feet Thump on the Aggregate – Pasted Over the Once Fertile Ground
Steps on the Concrete of Our Grandparents’
Skyscrapers Block Out the Open Sky
They Lord Over the Sight of Homes Lost to the Next Generations
Parks Become Sinkholes in the Modern Age
Beats from the Boomboxes of Youth
Converting themselves into Car Radios
Words Walk By
but their Unheard by Invisible Bodies,
Gibberish Blends in the Air
Whispering Echoes of Past Lives – Lost Within the Smog
The Sun Sets on the Densely-Driven Divides
Oct 9, 2020
Oct 9, 2020 at 5:12 PM UTC
Brainstorming, concentrating
panning... for poem
idea shattered brew
tilly by deafening seasonal
greensward cutting crew
contracted throughout summer to mow
leaves of grass
every Tuesday, which drew
attention toward fragrant aroma
seeping into nostrils
of me - match hew,
heavily negated true
quiescence courtesy ear splitting
soundcloud of driving
mowers even moo
ving bovines would
clap cloven hooves
over soft as lambs wool
sensitive hearing micro corkscrew
innards, viz their *****
shaped audiological
anatomical accouterments -
cow word lee lowing Jew
pitter Io sliver by jove whew
once silence returns
(after cessation rip snorting bedlam)
savoring the hum of nature anew,
and moost likely relish
fresh cut leaves of grass
as I inhale analogous
delectable waft of homebrew
albeit molecules borne aloft
after sharp heavy duty blades
of industrial riding mowers bestrew
higglety pigglety, helter skelter
juicy fruit chlorophyll rich
plants releasing nectar
sweet as honeydew
olfactory imbibing nostalgic view
of yesterday, when agrarian farmsteads
populated landscape picturesquely
anointing, exuding, messaging...
perfuming faint clue
intimating rural lifestyle forebears
hapt tubby privy too,
where deer and antelope played
unaccosted by impending urbanization,
hence such idyllic serene rue
man nation - visage you
would probably concur
as most divine comity
worth more than any buckeroo
could purchase - vestiges vanishing
without a trace adieu
mother nature nowhere found
except caged up within zoo.
Aug 6, 2019
Aug 6, 2019 at 3:33 PM UTC
Regarding yours truly
he experienced setback
amplified by Luddite propensity
nostalgic longing for simpler age
bring back horse and buggy
better yet find me a mancave
and/or apprise me
ideally via email
Flintstone web page modality
allowing, enabling, and providing
excellent linkedin access
whereby augmented
and/or augmented reality
telecommunication simulation
delivers, exports, and ferries lame poetaster
to small town America
a place that time forgot and
the decades cannot improve
within which dwell
strong women, good-looking men
and above average children
Wobegon place name
preserving lifestyle
exhibiting voluntary simplicity
though aforementioned fictitious locale
fires up imagination as does
a place called Willoughby
flourishing along outer limits
of twilight zone
buzzfeeding outlier zee
crème de la crème confabulist
this side of Schwenksville
hankering towards... nebulous
body, mind and spirit synchronicity
courtesy sweat of mine brow equity
acquiring alliance, cognizance, existence,
guidance, intelligence...
think **** Proenneke
alone in the wilderness survivalist
jack of all trades
I would live free,
yet nevertheless die
ill equipped to captcha victuals
and/or drink
to stave off hunger
and/or thirst respectively
one twenty first century beastie boy
heavily dependent upon
urbanization, mechanization,
industrialization, civilization
to savor creature comforts
climate controlled environment(s)
courtesy finite fossil fuel extraction
**** sapiens scourge upon planet Earth
me metaphorically on par
one more human parasite
zapping nonrenewable resources
thus desirous (yet helpless)
to forsake consumerist lifestyle
yet lack ways and means
to toil physically
to wrest good n plenti
juicy fruits of labor,
which initial premise
as iterated with poem title
dramatically off tangent, yes?
Aug 14, 2020
Aug 14, 2020 at 9:02 PM UTC
Two hundred forty two
(12.1 score) years ago
countless stripling soldiers
strapping farming homeboys
healthy agrarian lads
raised among generations
in summer re:
offspring original settlers heirs
family acreage encompassed
wide uninterrupted forested swaths
across sprawling vistas
sparsely populated enclaves,
now heavily industrialized
lovely bones occupying
unmarked never known graves
buried amidst avast
cleft rapacious urbanization
long forgotten innocent youths
hailing within then bucolic
Montgomery, Delaware and Chester county
forsook their young precious lives
voluntarily promising sons
risking life and limb
more often former versus latter
sacrificing stripling flesh
encompassing urbanized tracts
quite familiar to yours truly
suddenly made aware
unbeknownst till yesterday
informative literary handiwork
titled "A Glimpse of Freedom"
engagingly written by Douglas Shupinski
details innocently naive country bumpkins
sacrificing potential sweat of brow,
albeit grueling labor
fostering holistic existence
transforming boyz to men
hardened green soldiers
into battle weary fighters
regarding, kickstarting, envisioning
inchoate cause named freedom
emancipating fledgling America
against British throne
awareness percolates,
perturbs, permeates psyche
synchronizing, manifesting, galvanizing
how past historical events
within close proximity,
where I mostly resided
since birth, now experience
absorption, communion, edification...
with dead souls
nearly deathly quiet
only most perceptive can detect!
Jul 8, 2019
Jul 8, 2019 at 6:04 PM UTC
Aghast at explosive industrialization/
urbanization once sacred wild woodland
whittled away overlain bumper crops
comprising trappings green lighted
supposedly signaling progress unwittingly
overrides avast enclave (teeming with
diverse flora and fauna passively cleared,
dominated, expropriated by dictate of
commercialization, exploitation, fabrication
fueling amalgamation, fabrication, lubrication
oiling cogs and wheels sustaining, murdering
guaranteeing production trumpeted at
expense native flora and fauna acquisition,
cooptation, extermination, gratification
decreed ********** **** sapiens usurped
law of land i.e. eminent domain foisted
upon unsullied "new world" defining
European age of exploration, whereby
pristine undulating immense acres
indiscriminately partitioned, (despite
indigenous peoples unrecognized precedence
to remain holistic caretakers of Mother
Earth tendered, predicated, linkedin with
generations worth of sacredness, which
spiritual reverence meant naught to
unwelcome trespassers solely hell bent
to force acquiescence, compliance,
obeisance,... to warlords, whose cruel,
diabolical gall lee jeepers libidinal
incursions sought extinction toward
defenceless native inhabitants subject
to machinations spelling extermination,
yet their restless spirits infiltrate occupants
of once happy hunting grounds devoid
without a trace, when this bucolic tract
devoid of present schlocky vinyl zoned
abodes, whereby fast disappearing vestige
alluding to pastoral vista spurs overactive
imagination regarding yours truly, who
chiefly hankers he got born during
sparse population versus pell mell hustle.
Sep 15, 2019
Sep 15, 2019 at 9:35 PM UTC