Systemic Strain Part II
Proof that survival is an art outline,
And you paint it daily with any scraps
They embark you.
They monitor your struggles without seen
In the prototype of the broken appliances
Behind it.
The group blame the person
Instead of the patterns.
They call it "Personal "
Responsibility ".
When it's genuinely Systemic Sabatoge.
But you-
You trudge with a spine that recalls everytime
You bent and still didn't quit.
You speak with a voice that carries the
Parroting of every barrier lifted.
And you say it plain, loud enough for the
Block to hear:
This tautness ain't mine
This fault ain't mine
This fight was allotted to me by a system
That never cultivated how to hold its own
Bulk.
I'm not the Crack.
I'm the pressure point.
I'm the vocal cords that named the real culprit
And to carry it's shame declines.
The setting
A box with furniture
All appliances
Windows with screens
Bathroom with sink and mirror
Clothes Hanging in Closets
A Garage that has a care within
Bills paid online, Mail comes in a mailbox
Roads that are rebuilt and tared
The setting
Grass roof
Bamboo furniture
No appliances
No Window with Screens
The whole.outdoor as your bathroom
No closets, just in luggage bag
No Garage
Mail in town not near
Paths that are a road cemented
The difference of Simple Life
That there is less care then the other
No structure that don't bind a person
So Simple is far from luxury or conveniency
We are pleased on our own terms
That is the description of a simple life
Hallie the Halloween cat had an evil look
Her eyes were amber, she was never shook
The stare she gave people made them shiver and shrink
I was terrified of her myself, as are the frig and the sink
I did not know appliances feared anything, someone said.
Are you kidding? One stare from that cat and they might be dead.
She has already put the dishwasher and garbage disposal on the brink.
Here Hallie comes again! Screamed the kitchen sink.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I flicked it off~
the final bulb in the house~
and stood in the dark,
counting the hums
of appliances
I forgot to unplug.
The fridge sighed,
the modem blinked,
and the walls,
thin as a whisper,
held their breath
like a thief
in an empty room.
Outside,
the streetlamp
swayed its yellow noose.
Inside,
I became
the shadow
I'd been chasing
all along.
Excitement of new appliances may cooking continue
My eyes have keys.
My eyes have locks.
My keys don’t fit my locks.
Eyes are made to look out
So, only out I gazed, I sought.
Others’ eyes held their own locks,
A gallery, magnificent and varied.
In those foreign yet familiar clasps, my keys tarried,
Then with a bit of work, they married—
To treasure chests filled with grand memories
To chains tight and binding
To foggy rooms with dim outlines
To hope chests crammed with keepsake findings
To storage cabinets and their appliances
To showcases bright with earnings
To boxes of hats, masks, and glasses
To cages cold with yearnings
Countless lock types I’ve encountered and
Countless locks have crumbled.
But, behind my doors are mysteries
My locks still waiting to tumble.
a refrigerator bought brand new in 1952
was expected to last until 1985 and she did
finally coughing her last ice cube or two
worn out totally, finally on the skid
today’s appliances are built to last until the warranty is out
we have learned to expect it, no one cares that we pout
Two minutes after the ninety-day warranty is void
our refrigerator stops working; this we cannot avoid
How the appliance companies manage this trick is odd
but it has happened to me, my aunt, and my granddad Todd
Back in the day a washer lasted until you were one hundred and ten
Sometimes I wish we could revert to those olden days once again.
I couldn’t live without A/C
Though people all through history
Made do with fans or else before,
They sweated through the clothes they wore.
I’d hate to live without my phone;
Attached to it I’ve somehow grown
Though I’ve survived, let’s not forget,
When it was not invented yet.
I wouldn’t want to live without
The wheels that take me all about,
For without car or bus or train,
I’d feel so stuck I’d just complain.
I’m glad I never had to live
Without appliances that give
The means to keep us clean and fed,
Allowing us to get ahead.
I’m grateful that these things exist
Though we can’t know what we’ll have missed
By living in this current age
Before the future turns the page.
the abandoned shack looks miserable and forlorn
standing amid brambles and weeds in an unkempt field
her porch boards creak ominously as we walk across them
Some of the end boards have disintegrated
she looks sad and gloomy; her front door is gone
she has not been cared for in a number of years
the upstairs windows are broken probably by rocks
her kitchen has been stripped of appliances
wires hang where her oven used to be
the floor is brighter next to these wires
a tiny creature scuttles across the floor
She smells like animals
She has probably been a haven for squirrels and mice
Maybe raccoons take up residence during the winter
Do you want to go upstairs? My girlfriend asks
I shake my head “no” not wanting to see any more
Appliances today
replete with whistles and bells
The only problem is ~
they don’t work so well
There may have been neighborhoods
with green lawns, playgrounds, and ballfields
a short walk from houses with enough
bedrooms for everyone.
Houses that stood apart from one another,
so owners could park cars in garages
set towards the back and then walk on paved
walkway to back doors leading to kitchens
with modern appliances,
but I live with five others in a three-bedroom
six-room railroad room apartment fourth floor
walk-up in a six-story row tenement house
on a block with twelve other buildings,
exactly the same.
Built-in the late eighteen or early
nineteen hundreds.
Buildings riddled with cracked walls,
leaking ceilings, stuck windows,
overflowing toilets, mice, and roaches
that were there to stay, with garbage cans
'most missing covers' in alleyways
that rats owned after dark, leading, to.
Courtyards with ‘No Loitering’ signs posted,
where we played hopscotch, hit the stick,
marbles, red light green light one two three.
Where Valerie’s mom jumped into from
the roof to.
That summer’s day my mother said that
‘we were moving’.
Reliability is hard to come by, I hear a sigh
Product insurance is offered when you buy
Manufacturers do build obsolescence in
Sellers know you’ll be coming back again.
Product insurance is offered when you buy
The appliance is not meant to last forever,
Sellers know you’ll be coming back again
A dependency dealers are reluctant to sever.
The appliance is not meant to last forever
Malfunctioning when you need it most,
A dependency dealers are reluctant to sever
Their product is the very best, they boast.
Malfunctioning when you need it most
You are forced to buy a replacement,
Their product is the very best, they boast,
But, now it’s in a box in your basement!
You are forced to buy a replacement
With the same promises and guarantees
But, now it’s in a box in your basement,
Life is a vicious cycle of these certainties.
With the same promises and guarantees
Product insurance is offered when you buy,
Life is a vicious cycle of these certainties,
Reliability is hard to come by, I hear a sigh.
Written December 11, 2022
[Pantoum form, adapted]
His knowledge was his untapped wellspring,
After 93 years of learning anew;
He valued knowing something about everything,
From construction & farming, to baseball & screws.
Early in life, a dairy farm taught him,
To think on his feet, with vast common sense;
Learning math at the sawmill, he estimated lumber,
And rebuilt old motors, appliances & fences.
For years he delivered, automobile parts,
To Tar Heel cities & Outer Banks towns;
Till one day, Wayne County rewarded his smarts,
With leadership to run, their buildings and grounds.
A Lion's Club/Odd Fellow—active for decades,
Making differences in the lives of many;
A loyal church member, a Jack of all trades,
Directing great efforts, that helped countless plenty!
Later in life, he started Smith’s Crafts,
With Logs that told Weather--Cow Clocks that told time;
Wrote a book on a bell, he loved to autograph,
Reading local history aloud, literary passion sublime!
His legacy is people, warm and loving,
Celebrating them in visits near and far;
Shelton Eugene Smith, Sr. a one-of-a-kind,
Honored by many, remembered by all!
(In honor & Memory of one of the world’s most fascinating men)
He's protected by insurance on his house
his vehicles, a wide range of health concerns
permanent disability, large appliances
his business and all its applicable insurables
against floods, wars, tornadoes earthquakes
glacier-melt, cyclones, asteroids, meteors
avalanches, mudslides, volcanoes, air and
seat travel...
... But nothing on his own life
People say oldies are hoarders
They collect miscellaneous Throughout the years
Knowledge,experience and utensils
The whole family contributes to the collections
They are memorable
They are precious
Electrical appliances,dresses and shoes
Souvenirs,books and certificates
Piled up the space
They seem to be very rich
With a small gallery
We also fall into this category
But recently we send away all the litters
To the recycling centres and welfare centres
Helping others
Few men are poor
But unluckily riches on earth are
corrupted
By devils
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