Long Bulldozers Poems
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I woke up this morning in the silence of my mind and looked outside
Not a sign of life was moving, and the city has lost its pride
I looked up at the skies above me searching for an answer, but the clouds keep rolling by and everyone was bidding the earth goodbye. A long road formed into the cloud and human forms was moving around, I kept looking at the shapes from the ground, but I could not see the face just the body of the human race.
I pinch my hand to see if I was still alive but something more powerful than me was giving me life the people have evacuated from the town
But I was still hanging around because destiny had me bound and courage kept spinning me around.
Thousands of cars lining the streets, trucks van and buses on one side and the smaller vehicles on the other side everyone was moving in order and bush doctors and the sorceress had to move and their portions and jinks fell into the sea and the troubled young man was finally set free.
Tons and tons of garbage line up by the wayside with everything that the occupants had inside, the rich and the poor have suffered the same fate
They all had garbage lining up at their gates leaving empty house behind a memory that cannot be replaced in a brand-new place.
The federal workers are working against time to clear the garbage before the cloud breaks, bulldozers, trucks and crane busy up and down the street creating a new landfill with all the remains from top of the hill.
And as they wait patience start to move slowly out of the gate and the town that once stood proud was reeling from loneliness. No one can go back there; there is a story for everyone to share so listen carefully. When the north wind combined with the south wind and the wicked wind of the east combined with the ferocious wind of the west nothing will be left; this town is inhabitable.
We see but grey where once was green
As bulldozers now scrape,
Turning a joyful rural scene
Into joyless landscape.
The area was green-belt land
With forest and pasture
But as our numbers still expand
We will invade nature.
And so that farmland must give way
To high profit housing.
Farming that land has had its day.
Let the plunder begin.
First rip up each ancient hedgerow,
Take living loam away.
Make space for luxury homes to go.
The wildlife then must stray.
Nests and burrows can play no part
As man now owns this space.
The construction work now can start
And big profits then chase.
Soon building projects in full swing.
The stream that filled the pond
Diverted to concrete piping
In culvert underground.
Aquatic habitats destroyed.
Frogs, toads and newts homeless.
Many wildlife species now void.
But man could not care less.
Written By: D. Collins 12/12/23
I'm noting how the new generation will not be fooled.
Lead into going all out in deep throating the Jews.
There are multiple ways and multiple avenues.
Which means, they see videos not on the nightly news.
After 75 years, they see all the hidden truth.
There's nothing more you can hide from the youth.
People are people and all of them deserve to live.
That's what all young'uns see in Palestinian kids.
They're saying if it happened to them, what about us?
If bombs and bulldozers turned our cities into dust.
They see children suffering slightly younger than them.
And, they don't give a damn about color or religion.
While bulldozers, drunk with gasoline
Have once again scared and maimed
Where once grew trees and meadows free
Is now an earth, encased by concrete seas
Engines roar, to drown our ears in echoed glee
Where ghosts of children played their summer games
Forced to leave their childhood memories
In trenched out holes, and broken trees
The big top guns...ravage earth, then run
Dinosaurs that raise their iron heads
Jaws dripping with loads of earth and grass
As gophers rampaging through halls, bereft
are forcing nature's giants to their knees
Place by place destruction of the land
And while the green world grandfathers knew
Is gone in days, with every oak that falls
When this new invading presense is someday done
Has had his fill of dollar bills, then abandons one and all..
Who will mourn, who will recall?
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All the Broken bodies - all the broken bones
All lying dead bloodied within the war zones
The heat unbearable - the stench even more
As the smell of death seeps from every pore
No respect is given so we can bury the dead
So we are left to sleeping with them instead
Children as all crying they do not understand
Just what's happening in their promised land
People no longer have trust in their very own
Whispered words, relayed on their cell phone
Who has sold them out, to who is the enemy
Black market men come, with their remedies
Possessions sold so we can sneak out by night
No thoughts at all given, to our frighten plight
Camping out on the borders of our loved land
All of us at the mercy of our own “God’s” plan
Our children are starving as women are raped
We cannot go back there is no forward escape
Nobody wants us, it has all been heard before
And people getting sick of hearing of your war
Broken bodies, broken bones, as broken minds
Reminds us all of a unjust life that is so unkind
The ethnics, the minority, and indigenous ones
Whether it is the bulldozers or someone's guns
It may take a life time, but you will feel my pain
Wake up one morning, with nothing else to gain
Your life worthless, as that pile of broken bones
Then left to ponder on your very own war zones
It may take a life time, but you will feel my pain
Broken bodies, broken bones . . .
Indiana Shaw . . .
Old Man (Splintered)
On the walk, the one with wood, along the dunes, a time to saunter
Shoes with old holes on soles now prehistoric
Clip and clop along the winter boardwalk
In the shoes is slender Sam who slides along the boards
Footwear held together with some threads and prayer
Feet too heavy to lift, due to gravity or perhaps a gentler nature
The old man sits to smell the ocean salt and pelican mist
He sits to feed the pigeons some stale official bread from his own kitchen
Rising from the bench becomes a task for cranes and tractors
Bulldozers are needed to lift the spirits
Sam holds on against the winter wind, filled with concrete hollows
Holds on to rails provided there
He retreats into his shell he calls his life
Picks up a splinter with an ouch along the way
Through his unholy holes exposed to nature and the wood
Perhaps it is prime time to buy new shoes or soles
The foliage unruffled, the tree trunks utterly baffled
The reign of darkness all along
A nightly hoot of owl, the occasional growl
Of a tiger bold and strong
The silence of night, the crescent moon’s light
A play of light and dark
The serene nature sleeps a strange fever creeps
The homebound wings of a lark
An eerie silence reigns in the forest now.
A few huts of people living in this forest
Can be seen at the distance. The faint light spilled
Through the roofs is busy in hiding its scantiness;
Though darkness and silence of the forest are extending
A sympathetic hand to it. A baby cries, its mother cradles
The new-found affection gently, gently, it is bound to be
Lulled into sleep whereas all the leaping flames
Circle the mother and baby in an enchanted dance
The morning glows in stranger shine. The ferny floor
All teeming with greedy shadows; the day shows the door
Of immeasurable wealth; they tread invisible ways
To usurpation, primitive hands fail to prevent
Modern cormorants and voracious sharks in complete sway
Timeline
Corpses of trees mutilated arms, legs and breasts bear proof to genocide
Timeline
Huge bulldozers mechanical drone flourish of contemptuous tide
Timeline
Herds of cattle lead an impeccable people’s exodus
Timeline
The forest relegates into history, a state-of-the art mall shows its class
…………
Timeline
It was Easter Sunday
I was leaving Isle of Palms
in my 2004 Toyota Corolla
that was once my sister’s
before she moved to Colima, Mexico
I overheard a conversation
and left the house
I wanted miles between there
and anywhere
I called you as I trembled
up the road on all four wheels
All the cars were bulldozers
of purpose and confidence
I felt like iceberg lettuce
swaying over pavement
ready to be tossed
out of the sandwich
You told me to get it together
“You’re from Rochester, remember?
Come on woman! Breath!”
I asked you to help me
get over the bridge:
“Just keep talking.
I don’t know where I’m going,
and my hands are sweating”
It wasn’t your words,
I don’t remember many
It wasn’t you next to me,
we live too far for intimacy
It wasn’t any reassurance
You know
my vulnerability
that I hide so gracefully
in my Audrey Hepburn
attempts for elegance
I show you my raw,
unhinged, unlovely
childish fears
that I will not outgrow
I am the chipped marble
you hold in your hand
I am your Minnie,
your knucklehead,
your superfluous adjective
I know you prefer
succinct conversations
and strong women,
but I need your steadiness
You carry me over
every bridge
recall your childhood
when you were so unaware of being a child
walking with swinging arms
babbling with chatter box like a brook
unencumbered by opinions, beliefs
unspoiled by graces and airs
unaware of age and wrinkles
when everyone was treated the same
open to suggestions, real and fanciful
unabashedly self-centered
used to be being spoilt and gushed upon
tugged like puppet on adult hand strings
so readily swayed by silliness and bribes
yet so hard to be shifted away from this to that
when tantrums popped-up to show displeasure
not ashamed to ask question about difficult things
never caring about the day and date
never caring about being early or late
when all was play, and being creative
with the simplest of things.
Imagining pirates and Jolly Roger.
playing with lumps of wood in sandpit
seeing dump trucks, and bulldozers
play embellished with sound effects
grins and smiles, totally absorbed.
Perhaps its time to bring back
the childlike love of play, joie de vie
and the simple tiny-handed grasp of life
showing such freedom, liberté
devoid of consequences.
Bulldozers, drunk with gasoline
once again have scarred and maimed
a place, once green with grass and trees
Where we once heard the sound of breeze
and ghosts of children played their games
and were forced to leave their childhood memories
There trembles now an engine's roar,
that drowns the sounds of echoed glee
In trenched out holes, in broken trees
The big top guns....pour the concrete, build the towers
Ravage earth, take the power, then run- run- run
The dinosaurs raise their iron heads
Jaws dripping with loads of earth and grass
Like a gopher rampages through his halls
Forcing the small guys to their knees
One by one the disappearance of the land
And while the green world our grandfathers knew
Is gone in days, with every oak that falls
When this new invading presence someday is done
Has had his fill of dollar bills,
Then soon abandons one and all..
What will be our fate
Who will mourn, who will recall?
Will we stand up, change the course
Can we stop invading forces
Before it’s too late? Before we have lost it all?
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