Long Light bulb Poems
Long Light bulb Poems. Below are the most popular long Light bulb by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Light bulb poems by poem length and keyword.
On the day of your birth, joyous or tragic at the girth.
With sun or light, opportunity gains flight.
The moon or night, once begun always a fight.
A choice to make, a path to take, to find your way night or light.
Signs along the way, though in plain sight have no sway.
Words and actions unmatched, alludes balance and remains detached.
By the time a connection is made, aged and tired we begin to fade.
Born to die, lived a lie.
2
A death begins, with truly no end, regardless of the course.
The start as well, has no tell, of what life contains, within it’s well.
Seek to find in this grind, a way, a path, a place.
Where peace at last has finally cast a role, a sign, a space.
For time has no friends, it’s always there at the end.
Do the best, pass the test, meet every challenge.
When this is so, the time will go, like the tides ebb and flow.
In the same way , make every day a death that can never stay.
3
Remember when the days begun, fiery like the midday sun.
Battles fade and wars won,
Heated by words and deeds fired by our own guns.
In a time of no fear never knowing what was dear.
All things gained and nothing lost
leaving someone else to pay the cost.
Like this is not the way, to waste this precious day.
In the end we all pay at the end that’s all to say.
But to realize before begun, a job that must be done.
For born are we to die, living when we know the reason way.
Die we all do, return to dust we will.
Taking nothing when we go leaving everything for life’s show.
So the question remains,
Born to die or live and know why.
4
In the brew when we begin, never knowing till the end.
What, will we become, when our time, here is done.
Lead your’s through stress and stiff or glide with glee as joy fills your life.
Regardless of the circumstances as we enter life’s stage
We alone will or won’t choose to play the roles life has paved.
It’s not a fight when we begin, we know it all and can do it all too.
Toward the middle we start to wonder, if we shoulda...,
A fleeting thought because another distraction comes along.
Before you know it, the time is gone.
You sit and think, you ask why.
As you think you realize, like a brand new light bulb, Bright.
It shine, you see on the places and seeds,
you chose thus far not to go or sow.
Your at the middle and again you choose.
You now know, what will you do?
Form:
EDDIE MARS AND THE SOLAR WINDS
The biggest band in Lisburn and fronted by Eddie Mars
A guy who could play anything, on his collection of guitars
On vocals, Charlie Venus, who was the joker in the pack
He played his fender tele' through a great big marshall stack
On bass was Johnny Neptune, with his yellow platform shoes
He harmonized on vocal, a disciple of the blues
The keyboards were delivered, by Hector Mothership
He worshipped things electrical, and loved the microchip
Ray Uranus kept the beat and he wore a bowler hat
Sure only a crazy drummer, would adopt a name like that
They played all over Britain, with their rockin lunar style
They sold out gigs in Wigan, they were lauded in Millisle
Their stage show was fantastic, with a massive lighting rig
A spaceship and some planets, lit the stage at every gig
That grew a loyal fan base, as they played across the land
They lived a life of excess, just like any touring band
Success soon followed in their wake, awards came thick and fast
And very soon the space machine, had an ever growing cast
Five young lads from Lisburn, fifty people in their crew
An entourage of strangers that they never even knew
Five big trucks, a fleet of cars, a chopper and two planes
A man to do the finance, who didn't even know their names,
Still, fashions change, the sales dried up, the audience died away
And soon there were no big crowds, to watch the five lads play
Their last gig at the Ulster hall, was an evening to forget
Out of tune, and full of beer, as they stumbled through the set
And things got pretty messy when accountants came to call
They had no cash, they had no rights, seems their manager had it all
Their luck ran out, the band where broke, they had to end the show
They had to sell up everything, the spaceship had to go
Ray could never come to terms, with all the hurt and pain
He took some drugs and alcohol, he just never woke again
Hector went to college and he earned a top degree
And now he is the I.T guy in a light bulb factory
Johnny is the local star, who likes to talk about his fame
He tries to pull the young girls, and dine out on his name
Charlie lost his family, when the alcohol took hold
He shelters in the hostels when the weather gets too cold
Eddie left the country, when it all became too much
He now lives in Australia, but he never kept in touch
My Life in 51 Lines
My life, what sets me apart?
What makes me different?
My choices, good or bad
The things I do and decisions I made are what make me, me
I lived to fit in. I blended in with the world which I was raised in
I chased after what people told me would make me happy
I had my own selfish ambitions
I wanted to make it big. I wanted to be known by all
That’s what they told me would make me happy
But that life never satisfied
No matter how many girls I was with
No matter how much money I had
No matter how popular I was
No matter how good at sports I was
It was never enough. I was never truly satisfied
It was like I was trying to quench my thirst by eating salt.
It only made me more thirsty
I thought I was chasing after what I wanted
But contentment and happiness kept on eluding me
It was just out of my grasp
If only I could have “that” I would be happy
But I didn’t know what “that” was
I thought it was my fault, I wasn’t doing enough
That’s why I wasn’t happy
That did nothing but send me to a pit of self-consciousness and lack of self worth
I based my identity on what I did, but it was never enough. It never satisfied
But in stepped Jesus and just at the right time
His love never fails, it never gives up, it never runs out on me
These words stuck. It made me wonder
A light bulb moment happened and it all made sense
Jesus was no longer just the answer to my hermeneutics test
He was my personal Lord and Savior, our relationship began
I was shown that my own deeds will never satisfy me or save me
This was hard to grasp, it was all I ever had known
But Jesus showed me to trust in his grace alone
That’s all I had to do
My identity is now found in Christ
Sounds cliché, but I was born again
My old life is now just a memory
Do I regret what I did? No. I’m able to learn from what I did and see how I was wrong
I trusted in myself, but I needed a stronger power source, and that’s what I got in Christ
Now I live for Him, to bring glory to Him, not me
Who am I to seek pride?
I am but a mist that appears and fades
I’m a second in the motion picture of God
I am temporary, but my God is forever
He remains strong even when I am gone
My future? I don’t know what it holds
All I know is that I will serve Him, not me
My old self is no more, I’ve been made brand new
Now I’m going to do what my God made me to do
Our lives are not immune to the impact of time,
nor is our mind between the tensions of love and hate.
That's why I curse this wanderlust heart -
still searching for that wandering star.
without a guide - without a love to call my own.
I try not to look back, but sometimes certain scents,
remind me of things that saw me as a minority.
A summer heart misplaced in winter's wickedness,
a child frozen in the passages of a stolen childhood.
Ingredients of my life are a juxtaposition of flavours,
finding purity among diseased hearts,
fighting against principles of corrupt minds
and I hurt nobody - until they pushed me,
it was never about the physical - but the mental.
Silence is different in adolescence -
suppressed into a protective bubble,
you reject the harshness of existence.
My small hands could not hold the burdens,
so I was mute as demons slayed my father,
his anger drowning my brothers into darkness.
Tears of my mother, dehydrated my soul,
so I grew like a tree with broken branches -
sometimes naked, sometimes an abundance of green.
Even in an obscure world of nightmares,
my heart was a light bulb, full of dreams -
but misplaced in a place of misunderstanding.
I adopted silence in the violence,
because I struggled with reality's fabrications.
Fatherless,
I found acceptance in the war on the streets,
where love was poison, but hate brought prosperity.
Only surviving due to my father's name,
yet I knew it was an unwinnable game.
My hands were pacifying guns,
so I learned to exist without bullets.
I was a black sheep in a strange white herd,
opposing shepherds who couldn't tolerate me.
A clean soul in a dirty social order -
a peaceful heart seeking a place to call home.
Silence is a choice in adulthood.
I used to ignore the pain from unhealed wounds,
but today the inner child screams and shouts,
because oppressors can no longer mute my tongue.
Death taught me not to be bitter,
stubborn fingers how to bleed ink onto paper -
showing compassion in an ugly world.
If life was so simple, we wouldn't look at it differently.
Our perceptions are based on what we have learned,
what was, what is to come and what we search for.
Where you end up depends on how you deal with the past.
She wakes up.
Surrounded by darkness.
She tries to stand, but is knocked to the floor.
She looks around for a way out.
But she sees nothing.
Suddenly she feels as if she is being strangled.
She fights for her life against the unknown.
Soon the grip loosens and she gasps for air.
She cries in relief.
The relief is short lived as she drowns in her tears.
As she searches for this unknown attacker, she bumps into the wall and finds a light switch. She flips it on. A light bulb hanging from the ceiling flashes on.
The walls are mirrors. All she sees is a reflection of herself.
But she doesn't know it’s her for sure…it could be her attacker mimicking her.
She grabs the side of her head and shakes it violently. She tries to stay sane.
How could she after going through what she went through?
The whole situation caused her to question everything.
She lets go and takes a deep breath.
She looks at the mirror directly in front of her.
Limping slowly toward it she feels her heart racing to find out why this happened to her. She sees a black shadow flash behind her.
She whips her head around to look, but sees nothing.
As she approaches the mirror, she puts her hand up to touch it.
When her finger makes contact with the mirror, the light goes out.
She hears a wicked laughing. It’s soft and coming from all directions,
Or is it in her head? She falls down to the ground. She is now in the fetus position.
“Good job my good and faithful servant." she hears the voice say.
The voice is evil, but the words are God’s.
She slowly stands up still crying.
She can’t control herself and her legs fall underneath her.
“The devil must be doing this." she thinks.
She runs into a mirror shattering it in millions of pieces. She realizes this has happened to her soul too. She picks up the pieces and holds them up.
She says “Fix them! Fix me! Fix my heart and my soul! If you can do anything, fix this mess!"
She throws them helplessly to the ground, some shards going into her legs.
She falls in pain and weakness.
The black shadow appears in the shape of a beautiful woman.
It sits next to her and says “He can’t fix you; I can. Take my hand and we will go to a wonderful world without this pain. You’ll be safe."
The girl takes the shadow’s hand.
Not realizing death comes in beautiful forms.
who felt incorporeal storied power
of Herman Melville as zen unseen aid
instructing hypothetic rich kid to drop out of school
before his/her first grade
coz of all the money he/she made
which affected modus operandi rendered obsolete
child worker laws
and no sweat of brow getting paid
people used bitcoin (or other online currency)
additionally making purchases
with scant keystrokes to complete a trade.
As with any major dramatically novel scheme
light bulb idea scribbled on napkin
scrap of paper
via cheesy or whipped cream
originating as a flash in the pan
aha eureka moment, or dream
as rough blue print subsequently
underwent beta testing,
before declaring pc innovation supreme
whereby outstanding persons in the tech industry
clamored to join Kidde team.
Whether seventh day add vent
hissed or other religious creed
powerful binary processing
impacted near
earth shaking incarnation indeed
and ramifications in all walks
and talks of life sought expert need.
Coven chanting children murmured Luddites be damned!
Thus spake Zarathustra (cue the opening scene
from Planet of the Apes)
upon witnessing as if king or queen
(in reality father or mother)
didst get immediately
dethroned thus, increasing mean
average positive
effects on society, especially lean
microchip i.e. integrated circuitry
miniaturization "green"
technology (and eventual
attendant affordable price)
viz said trappings
unleashed upon global market
invited absolute zero dust, a must clean
as a whistle work space,
and manufacturers laboratory be microbe free
hermetically sealed vacuumed "clean".
Countless portable machines
unbeknownst soon epithet florid hack
coining impromptu called cyber crime
especially as majority proportion of population
didst purchase these dime,
a doze in countless "end users"
snapped up these smart machines
excitedly keyed away indifferent to gunk
on unwashed hands
plus bits of food particles
eventually caking hardware with grime
(eventually necessitating technician
charging gobs of moolah
sans to unstitch in time.
"Dearly beloved, "We are gathered here today to witness,
The wickedness of these times."
"Blessed", fortunately, its ending soon."
To radio stations phone-it.
"Wait!, No!, Next month.
"Taking the kiddies fishing."
"Perhaps we should postpone it."
"Reminds me, of an ole story.
"My, dear neighbor, now long past away."
"Bought a two-thousand watt light bulb."
"Used it to clean the lint from his toe nail."
"Then handed it over to me."
"Which item?", he asks.
"The lint or the bulb?"
"That's for you to decide."
"For extra credit, predict when the bulb burns out."
How the truth sometimes hurts.
For he loves us, and we love Him.
Faithfully digesting a breakfast sermon
Hard garlic salami, and dried prunes.
Oh , dear Paul.
Why was Moses punished?
He loves us.
In spite of our gas masks.
Even blesses our vents.
Just look at me.
I,m sure we meet before.
I,m wearing the inspector Klusoe badge.
Hiding near the back row.
Wearing an "Eddie Haskell", smile.
No mask , though, I,m tough.
I sure would like to tattle, on that darn kid.
Carefully rolling his perfect round gum wad.
Leaving it at the front door.
Tattle on that old fogy.
Hiding a re-cycled stogy.
Near the front bush.
About anybody unannounced,
Can bounce-in, these days!
Hard-core corporate sinners.
Hard working, making this world better?
With what thanks?
To greet the other side in hell?
If we don,t get to them.
Perhaps us as well.
Without Grace.
Sure would like to tattle,
On those arriving at the last minute.
Budgeting time, to edit a grocery list.
Tattle?, to Who?
Tattle on ladies, so easily upset.
If the closing clock, past noon strikes.
They must sell powerfully minted cookies.
Serving such a needed feast.
Considering whats for breakfast.
Dear Jesus, can you explain?
Why you cursed the fig branch?
So Our sports fans can understand?
Boy would I ever like to tattle,
On that little, freckled faced girl.
Sneaking in her kitten.
Us listening, to penetrating competitive "Meows."
"We are the cats meow."
"Not hippo-critters."
So please join Us.
123 altogether sing.
"We love Him."
"We love them."
They love Us."
"Love"," one-another."
Sounds absolutely crazy, doesn't it?
Where, oh where, is God?
When will the man-child stop asking why,
stop searching for the other, the greater, the bigger
the more glorious presence?
This constant need to see other than oneself as the source.
Even with a brain (and we know Frank Baum has told us
only STRAW men don’t have brains) we refuse to see,
refuse like a baby forced to eat mashed peas.
We make our children are we their God’s? Hell no!
We name this Creator (for man is nothing-if not a naming animal).
(The father says Da; the baby says DA! Da says cat, baby says CAT!)
Life cannot exist for man without a naming, a judgment, a categorizing.
We cannot GROK it (as Heinlein's Christ character, Valentine Michael Smith
illustrates for us in Stranger in a Strange Land).
For something, someone, has to have made us, yes? no?
Oh yes, they had to consciously decide to make
something as marvelously special as us, didn’t they/it?
* Please refer back to verse 2 line 5.
Where, oh where, is God? When will the man-child stop,
stop searching for the teat, stop the blame game,
accept the responsibility for fouling His own nest?
Why does God have to look like us?
Does everything we create look like us (the light bulb, the car)?
Does that mean there is NO primogeniture if He/she/it doesn’t look like us?
Wait, wait, all of Creation manifests differently, eco systems need
diversity to maintain homeostasis!
Yet we bawl like babies. WHY are You killing me!
Why must I die? What mutant child have you given me
this spawn of Satan!
This primogeniture, this God, this be all, end all, know all, BEING,
this omnipotent source either is outside of us? or inside of us?
Or are we inside of it? And, if it knows us not—
If like the amoeba, it simply divides to exist, absorbs to exist,
excretes to exist. Why do we insist on worshiping it?
Does It Know us? Does it know all of its creations?
Is it an active participant in its own creations?
Refer to the book of life, the planet earth,
the solar system, the structure of an atom.
Use the brain you were given by God
for YOU are not a Straw Man.
First Published in 2013 Sweet Dreams and Night Terrors
Exactly where and when does Ego begin,
my creation story introduction,
preface;
and is there anything in there about a sequel?
Identity of EarthLight co-revolving HeavenlyPower,
autonomic memory unfolding Ego's deep storage capacity,
regeneratively biased in favor of time's continuance,
dipolar dynamics of balance and crown/root harmony,
resilient LeftBrain-function rooted in Elder RighTime's
seasons of light and dark hemispheric
horizons
Dawning birth through adorescents
climax trending outside light
and inside power systems
To and from autumnal adulthood
on through death's disbirth
decomposing interior/exterior processing trends,
sacred liturgy of one benighted day's lifetime
Reviewing regenerative exterior experiential enlightenment
with fertile body empowerment
Sinking deeply into MindBody Great Transition
(0)-soul ZenTime of Yang/Yin co-arising elation,
surfing love of regenerating Ta(0)Time ourself
reincarnations of all matriarchal RNA generations
before LeftBrain verbal history,
children of MotherEarth's multiculturing Tribes,
sharing caring TransPresent bicameral intelligence,
deep communion restorage
RE: mindbody light investment
and mind v body disempowering divestment
for/of/with/toward future safe love health
v. unsafe hate pathology
TO: YangCrown/YinRoot identify bicameral flowstreams
of neuro-sexsensory win/win incubators,
now evolving toward polypathic co-binary maturation
of multi-paradigmatic EarthHealth,
sacred ecology's love-wealth
ReVisiting dawning SunLight's
deep dusky EarthPowers
nonviolent lust for enlightened
nonverbal trust of empowered
indigenous Holy Nature-Spirits
panentheistic EarthBody/AnthroMind
regenerative communication trends.
SEQUEL: Exactly where and when
LeftBrain verbally dominant
Straight White over-capitalized
run on and on and on
HisAnthroStory
begins
Our eternally salvific
EarthMother ReCreation Story
enlightened SunLight preface
empowering holy-spirit refaced
Elder-RightTrained EarthPower
adorescent neurosystemic sequel
PREQUEL: Don't global light-bulb push it.
Empower more local bushy feel
Robert Sherriff 08/07/1954 - Australian - Poet -Author - Singer - Actor - American Historian – Photographer
Work by Robert Sherriff is protected by the Australian Federal Government Copyright Act 1968.
Thomas Edison - 'Fraud': The True Legacy of Thomas Edison
Innovator or Appropriator?
When we think of the incandescent light bulb, Thomas Edison's name inevitably comes to mind. However, the truth behind this iconic invention tells a more complex story that celebrates the power of collaboration in innovation. It challenges the notion of Edison as a lone genius and paints a picture of a collective process that has shaped our world.
The Light Bulb Saga
Edison is often credited with inventing the first commercially successful incandescent light bulb in 1879. However, his breakthrough leaned heavily on the prior work of others. Canadian inventors Henry Woodward and Matthew Evans developed a light bulb concept and sold their patent to Edison after struggling to secure funding.
Meanwhile, British inventor Joseph Swan had already filed a patent for a similar technology and successfully sued Edison for patent infringement. American engineer William Sawyer's contributions were also significant enough that eventually, U.S. authorities cancelled Edison's patents.
This layered history reveals that the creation of the light bulb was less about singular brilliance and more about the synthesis of various ideas, many of which came from lesser-known inventors.
Beyond the Bulb
Edison's story of appropriation extends beyond the light bulb. Consider the movie projector, a technology that Charles Francis Jenkins and Thomas Armat initially demonstrated as the Phantoscope.
They sold their invention to Edison's company, where it was further developed and commercialized into the Kinetoscope. Similarly, Edison is often lauded for inventing the phonograph, but French printer Édouard-Léon Scott de Martinville had created the phonautograph two decades earlier. Charles Cros, another French inventor, had also devised a method for recording sound before Edison's company improved upon these ideas and brought them to the public.