Long Garbage in Poems
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Brutes, in name of God, to show their might,
fixed laws, that you’d succumb like measly sheep.
Womankind, kind woman, rise and fight.
Innocents of war with smiles once bright,
ravished; tossed like garbage in a heap,
angels hovering nigh have you in sight.
Faithful brides, for something less than trite,
set on fire in their beds as they sleep.
Kind woman, womankind, your soul‘s in flight.
Girls in huts, legs spread, cry out in fright.
A ritual to mutilate cuts deep.
Angels from on high do hear your plight.
Wives in their own homes (not all is right),
beaten, hush their children not to weep.
Womankind, kind woman, comes the night. . . .
Sisters, don’t be wearied by the blight.
For what they sow, God’s told us they shall reap.
Angels have prepared you robes of white.
Kind woman, womankind, hold tight your light.
For the 'TRIBUTE TO WOMEN' Poetry Contest
It was in the early dawn of December especially Roosters began to crow in the farmer's huts repeatedly They welcomed the first light of day indirectly. The famers untied their bullocks from the byre quickly
They kept the wooden plows on their shoulders lovely. And walked towards the fields with the bullocks merrily The cowboys loosened the cattle from the cow barn humbly. And they ran towards the pasture lands steadily.
Unbloused women came out their huts eagerly. And milked the horned cows in their pots slowly The sweet voiced cuckoos made coo, coo sounds properly And they tried to eat the ripped noni fruits wholly
The black crows crowed caw caw continuously And they flew towards the garbage in crowd casually. Big fruit bats rushed towards the mahua trees habitually Water lilies buds blossomed into flowers suddenly
Honey bees swarmed towards the blue lilies violently Water frogs jumped into the water from the leaves instantly The snowflakes began to vanish from the grasses inevitably. Great blue herons swallowed the catfish in the fields lovely
The street was echoed by the vendor loudly. Who had sold the tasty palm wine gladly The two eyes were not enough for us widely
To saw the sun rises in the early dawn exactly.
And you suffer confirmation bias,
Seek only what supports what you decide,
Objective as I’m, suffer no such ass,
AI posed, I’ve no monkey mind beside,
Nor my emotions blur reality,
Nor ever short change the reign of reason.
But I’ve this gift: Devil’s Advocacy,
Human intelligence is rare, my son,
To err is human and to learn divine!
And there’s one more thing why I’m quite unique--
From one more point of view all so genuine--
The garbage-in-garbage-out makes you sick,
HI may fail but learns and can get wise,
I shudder if AI turns otherwise.
____________________________
Sonnet |17.07.2025| dream, technology
Note: AI= artificial intelligence, HI= human intelligence
Hello, Dear, I trust the garbage in the road was picked up on Friday.
To add insult to the sweetness,
“I think it amusing there is a no dumping sign” across from where they have dumped.
Yes, I too think it bitterly amusing, since this pile from hell is about
Six feet from my driveway, which is so lovely when guests come.
This sweet letter was from the mayor’s assistant.
Because out of desperation, I wrote to him last Wednesday.
I wrote an equally nice letter back.
Hello back, Dear.
Not only was nothing picked up on Friday,
More was added to the pile on Friday.
I came around the corner to discover six tires,
A couch, and a burned out car that were not there on Thursday.
I plan to call the news station today,
For it is apparent even the mayor’s office
Can get nothing done.
Have a nice day yourself!
Love and all that stuff.
Mother Earth, she weeps, but her tears are all in vain.
Men who seek profit and power will never feel guilt or shame.
What is happening to our world? Wake up and see what we have done.
The pollution that fills our air is now blocking out the sun.
We carelessly chop down our trees at such an alarming rate.
Nothing left to purify our air; is our existence left to fate?
Who will pollinate our plants when we kill off all the bees?
What will be left of our oceans when we contaminate all our seas?
Majestic animals that share our world, men track them down to kill,
Not for any particular purpose, they hunt them for the thrill.
Beautiful beasts that once roamed our lands free,
Reduced to decomposing carcasses hunted for a fee.
Our marine life is being poisoned by all our toxic waste.
Plastics dumped in mass for all our fish to taste.
Mountains of our garbage, in our oceans we do store,
Then watch in silence as the blood-drenched waves break angrily on the shore,
And with it, all the decaying corpses from once an abundant sea of the living,
A sea that kept us fed, a sea that kept on giving.
Without all these things, we cannot survive.
Each link has a purpose in the circle of life, and they keep us alive.
Our planet is our mother; we live in her womb.
She provides for all life; let's not make her our tomb.
The Earth lies flat on its bare back and gazed at the universe with its empty guts with worms crawling from its side and the lava bubbling up inside.
It has been there for more than a year, seeking out a path but something is stuck into its guts and draining an unusual substance inside. If you examine it from a far, you could tell from a distance that something was about to break and you have to find a pinhole to release it before the mountains start to shake.
The children are having a jolly good time rolling and frolicking on the ground not knowing were destiny is bound. Everything looks normal as can be and the birds are signing a global melody. They are flying form tree to tree picking feather from the other birds back mating in the sun and dabbling in hot pleasures.
See them soaring way up in the sky,flopping their strong wings as the clouds' rolls by, they are sending a message back on earth that nature is mature and the two headed shark is living on the ocean floor.It is that wooded feeling you get when the breeze is blowing the waves and you are almost out of breath, the sky is frozen and the mountains breaks its silence and I speak.
Why do you stand so far apart and leave me wandering in the dark, why do you empty the garbage in the streets, wrapping your fuzzy tail on the land and singing the beggarman's song . I have been watching the sun coming up and going down squeezing the energy out of the town and I have to lay low when there is now where else to go and all you see in front of you is the Earth with its brown crust saluting you and the cars rolling by with hopes welled up in their engine.
Something's has electrocuted a hole beneath the earth, turning over a mountain of dirt, the temperature is increasing and the earth is baking. If you walk barefooted on the ground your heels will get brunt in a simple turn.
You see that whole section over there it is marked with a kind of memories and if you go closer you will feel heat and destiny will change your heart beat. Something is standing in the shadows imaging' my movement over here. The Earth's surface is hot you have to start wearing frocks.
Deep within me are rusty, crumbling memories and grief,
like a pile of rubbish the dregs of yesterday decay;
all the bits and pieces of my life deep and inner lay,
but under withering sadness I can find a flower or green leaf.
A beautiful memory rising and I sweep away the trash to embrace,
and all the years of pain fade and I am in a lovely, lovely place;
oh, often I go to my most innermost space to find a magical trace.
I have collected clutter and piles of rubbish in this life,
lots of debris and toxic waste among the odds and ends in a heap;
it is enclosed in my innermost space way down deep, deep,
I keep the worst experiences buried because they cut like a knife.
But, every once in a while something charming grows,
from all the garbage in my soul a beautiful thought glows;
and for a moment I throw away all my many woes.
Oh yes, in the junkyard on the map of my existence,
I keep all the garbage and the lovely memories secure;
and only me, me alone has the key to the padlocked door,
I bring it all with me no matter how twisted and long the distance.
Yet, there is another space also cluttered where the lovely flourish,
I water each memory daily with my tears to nourish;
and to my broken heart I press them and forever will cherish.
_____________________________
October 4, 2019
Poetry/Rhyme/My Crumbling Inner Space
Copyright Protected, ID 19-1186-188-02
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
Written for the contest, My Favorite Junkyard
sponsor, Craig Cornish
15th Place
I'm not sure what it is,
but for every uttered word,
there is a thought process.
I know; some are saying,
"What about the 'thoughtless'
utterances we often make?"
And there has to be something
between 'garbage in, garbage out'.
Let's just table those thoughts.
Whether conscience or not,
although mostly unconscientious,
brain mechanisms are hard at work.
Somewhere between the hearing
and speech, a train of thought
is working on the brainy rails.
We heard it with our ears, and
in response, we spoke as if without
much thought, but before we could
speak it, conduits of communication
were authorized and proper responses
were released to us.
It is much faster than the Super Shuttle
traveling 17,500 miles per hour. It is
said that while a space shuttle is in orbit
at that speed, the crew will see a sunrise
every 45 minutes. * Wow!
On some rare occasions
where telepathy may be in play, one may
know the question and the answer before
either is expressed. And if God is in the equation,
activation may very well transcend time and
space. And I do now confess. I am not sure
that I understand what I just wrote.
112322PSCtest, Just Before Release. Unseeking Seeker
*Space Travel Quotation
I have finally found a place
That I can call home
a place were no fugitive roam
no more garbage in the street
no more lesson to compete
and no more neighbor
to watch me from their phone
I have finally found a place that
I can live, a place that doesn’t judge
people about where they have been
the people were happy and kind
and their over the top treatment
almost blew my mind
I have never met such happy
people before, they were
loving and welcoming and I said
to myself it is the perfect place
I wanted to be, but little did I know
That an aged old secret
was hiding underneath the “bed”
It was a place for burying the dead
All the missing people were
tied up in a bag and tucked in deep freeze
underneath the bed that has an
opening that leads to cellar
and then into a basement
I wasn’t digging but my spirit
was searching and it leads me
to the secret hidden underneath the bed
I didn’t ask any question
and I did share the story with anyone
but I packed my bag and leave the town
without a shilling or a crown
the same day and I never looked back
I continue to search for a new home
the place where destiny bounds
a place where I can find a perfect balance
between work and home life
and the place that can keep my creativity alive
The language is deep and the culture is incomplete
The weather is fine and life is divine
And just as I thought about it
I saw you standing on the cliff
with your hands stretched towards
and a radiant light surrounds me
You took three steps back
and stood on the flat ground
And a radiant light covers you
And I woke up suddenly
Sweat was dripping from my face
and lights were shining all over the place
It’s a dream within a dream
but the imagery appears real
Take me to the place where
I can call home,
A place where pure love
Resides on the heart
A place where people emerge from the dark
Take me to the place where nature is kind
And the people are content with their lives
Take me to the place that I can call home.
your output
to the universe
comes back to you
like a "Return to Sender" mail.
if you treat people
with utmost respect and dignity,
they'll reciprocate;
treasure in, treasure out.
the same can be said
of maltreatment,
it's always repaid in kind;
garbage in, garbage out.
it's a fair trade,
every time.
in this cruel, savage world,
sprinkle in a handful of tenderness.
one is infinitely better off
trading meanness
with kindness.
it's much easier being...
a good human being.
it's far from expensive;
buy into it, it costs
less than a penny!