A stalled monsoon trough over central Nepal
caused continuous torrential heavy rainfall
Slopes pushed up moisture from the Bay of Bengal
The catastrophe was looming large to befall.
Sudden breach of a moraine dam
Triggered Glacial Lake outburst floods
A surge of water and debris devastates
downstream, catching communities off guard.
Landslides continued to collapse slopes,
forming temporary dams that later burst
Steep valleys amplified runoff swift and fast
Flood of fury of all time unleashed the worst.
A compound climate disaster of twin sciences
Meteorology and geology to decipher in depth
monsoon extremes, unstable glaciers, terrain hazards
Perished hundreds of lives and left many homeless.
Sparse sensors, lack of predictive models a curse
Warrant real time glacial monitoring at source
With closely spaced weather station networks
And cross border early warning systems
…….Narayan Gadagkar
The world is full of whackos
If you listen to the news,
And not just those who do not share
Your values or your views.
It’s not always mental illness
That makes certain folks behave
In a way that spreads discomfort
In the way they rant and rave.
An unruly person flying
Bit a passenger on board,
Just another fine example
Of the point I’m aiming toward.
There’s another tale of someone
On a plane who left his seat
And attempted opening a door
At 30,000 feet.
Hey, right here in New York City,
I have sensors to avoid
All those people on the streets
Who leave me scared more than annoyed.
Life is challenging for many
But it seems at every turn
There’s a whacko waiting in the wings
To cause you some concern.
Thomas stirred the tasteless,
clear liquid into his wife's
evening chamomile tea.
He smiled, thinking of the life
he imagined with another woman
he met in a stripper night club.
By midnight, Eleanor was gone,
her sudden passing blamed on
natural causes.
The grieving husband played
his part perfectly, weeping at
the funeral.
Two weeks later, he prepared
to sell the estate and move
away.
An insurance investigator
arrived, asking to see
Eleanor's final medical
records.
Thomas confidently handed
over the paperwork, certain
his tracks were completely
clean.
He failed to notice the smart
watch still syncing on her
bedside table.
Its biometric sensors
recorded the precise
moment her vitals fluctuated
unnaturally.
The digital timeline provided
the evidence needed to end his dreams of freedom in handcuffs.
Tommy, my quintessential favorite black cat loved Halloween
we stayed inside to watch trick-or-treaters through a screen
Tommy loved to go outside but on that night, we stayed in
he was not eager to see all of the strangers dressed in a whim
he was a one-woman cat, scarecrows and skulls amused him
He liked seeing lights that lit up by sensors scaring kids to their brim
when children screamed, he would hide under the couch or bed
he distrusted people he did not think were right in the head
He seemed to have a fancy for older folks, liked them a lot
my grandmother always brought him a treat from her pot
something with tuna, salmon, or some other kind of fish
She presented it with a flourish, and he gave his tail a swish
They were happy with each other, Tommy and my Grandma Fay
Halloween night was not a time we saw her though, she stayed away
She was not fond of children’s screams any more than Tommy she said.
I was glad, because she was corpulent, and could not fit under my bed.
Once upon a time, as the fable goes
There were us, your dog and my cat
Behind the fences the big outside was
Suggesting the stuff that we used to get
Pharmacies, hospitals, vets, hairdressers
Asda, the Co-op, your long earrings
Your roses and hyacinths, Uniglo dresses
The golden rings on your fingers
Your laughter when you threw your head back
And we drank wine talking about
Everything until we blurred into black
And the dawn was close to come out
Bottles of Lucozade, pods and sensors
Your blood glucose measures and pills
Your vapes, your questions and my answers
The photos you took from Coombe hill
I can't seem to put it into consistency
Into a somewhat coherent narrative
Can’t glue back the broken vase in subsistency
It seems like forever preparative
Here’s the apple tree in the sunset rays
With the apples down on the ground
Once upon a time, as the fable says
There were us, but we can’t be found.
Blue Wine
Oh, a night alone, slept
I woke up. See the glass
Dark lights in my room
Wooden fireplace light
Red wine in the glass
Why neon blue light?
Can you imagine it?
Can you imagine it?
Blue is my wine
Sign of a mind
Hmm. Optical illusion
Sensors of eyes’s lives
Dark
Dark
Dark light
Light dark
Blue is red
Red is blue
The
Blood
This is
The original
Sign
Of Blue
Live of
Life
Life Is Not Life
Never. Life is only a perception, a detection. Experience
Life is so sensitive. Sometimes. Live the situations. Hard
But not always, if you can change your mind. A lot of kind
Yes, life is a way—our life. To find a better kind of our kind
Hmm. Then that is not only life. That’s what's wanted in life
Watching and feeling the life, we are just the sensors of life
But, this is good. We can exist, lives. Live life. Live the lives
Ours. From up. From Up. But why? This secret way. To up
This is our job. To do and live this human life. Then will up
Life is not life
I mean, not just life
Not just this
Not just human life
But I don’t know what over the life
I mean, what exactly is over the standard human life
I know what covers life, and who is the ruler of life
But what control over our lives?
I know. There are two sections.
One of them is mine. Demon
So, I mean
Your life
Never be
Your life
Your life
Not yours
Life is not life
My ground is pretty solid
My statement is really worth
I many inadequacies foiled
I really respect force
I am mightly explicit weapon
The credit of AF defense
My engines your brain boil
I am drone that distills essence
My electronics prone to tectonics
My sensors a lot sense
Use power of sonics
The diligent phonies
Physics of cyber dense
Don’t ever doubt their unwavering loyalty,
Omnipresent in their prolific pedigree,
Gifted with smell sensors acting sharply.
Blooma Pie
Humble Slice,
Nimble Listener,
Blooma’s a wonder,
Aishes Chayil!
Middos Thrice Nice,
Her Yiddish Kopf is Wiser,
Avoids Goyish Blunder,
She heaves a sigh,
At ridiculous whys,
Her insights are glisteners,
Chaim’s warm summer,
Is sum of Blooma’s “Pi”,
Her humor disguised,
By her whimsical muse sensors,
“Bli” Blooma, Bummer!
“Cum” Blooma, Pecan Pie!
We eulogize our parents, kneel before teachers,
Pay obeisance to idols, and praise every benefactor...
Write poetry on our love, lyrics to our heartthrob,
Elegies in the heartache and play Endymion for a Selene,
Making rainbows out of our pale inane existence.
But when it comes to thanksgiving, some never figure on our list,
And of the few, we are prudent, tongue-tied, and grossly inadequate.
Connate with this corpus from conception
Oh my senses and sensors! You have made me what I am.
But for you I would never have travelled the distances I had,
Nor perceived and indulged in this spectacular world!
Oh, me!
It grieves to leave, yet a new stint is equally tempting.
And before I am dragged out of this housing reluctantly
And watch dumbly, you being impaled and consigned
Let me thank you with all my heart,
Dear senses and dear limbs!
And as a tribute to you, dear frame,
I shall leave behind ... the name!
In the world, where I do not exist is the world
without love and creative minds for people in it
have no emotion or natural intelligence for they
act like robots for everything is done for them.
They do not smile; they wave a hand to say, hi!
They do not laugh that those sounds of a belly
laugh, when your stomach hurts, is non-existent.
They do not speak words of love that give butterflies.
They do not think for everything is programmed.
All they must do is choose and push the buttons
pertaining to the work or activities they need to do
in the world of automation or advanced technology.
Creative minds with creative thinking applied in
various careers or arts are considered nothingness.
They use artificial intelligence using machines,
sensors, electric cars in their real world …
A world so monotonous, repetitive, tedious, dull.
A world lacking in excitement, lacking authenticity,
so boring for people with creative minds, such as
artists, musicians, poets, like me is not in it ...
A single raindrop
kissed my cheek,
and you tucked me beneath
your jacket canopy
before the message reached my sensors.
You sought to be my guard from harm
and elements alike,
shielding me like precious, carried cargo.
Stars spun from my eyes
and danced like twinkling fairies,
and I thought this must be
love.
Safe, in the bubble you kept me,
where it was easy-
until it wasn't.
My backward shotgun ride,
securely hinged to your pickup.
Your shield of well-intended,
false protection,
weighing me down.
And I'll die trying
to rise again, to walk away
from rain.
Born before the war
The sky was sullen and sorrowful
was the mist smoke from hot cannons
on crackling radios, people listened to
a man shrieking and thought
what a useless idiot
my birth was painful for my mother
she cried
my brother entered the room
slapped my face for hurting her
He was four years old and born,
a mild fine day in May
thus of happy disposition
expert in telling jokes
and in later years, wore my leather
jacket I had bought in Buenos Aires
October weather has much to answer for
my gloomy opinions are banned
on the Woke sensors on Facebook
who says, if you cannot be pleasant, send
a picture of a day in May
Me, I was expelled when the junta of four
colonels who ruled Greece for drinking ouzo
and be critical of them
Sent to an island for the mad, but six
month later, the hapless four officers
joined me and became orderly, cleaning
bed pans
If there was a suit
A suit of sensors
Aware of your actions
Following your mind, your movements
A jeopardy suit
That killed you with a lethal injection
When an imaginary galleon hit you with cannon fire
Or you clipped a stealth fighter’s wings with your own
Or crashed your tank in an ambush
Would you wear it?
Would you wear the jeopardy suit?
Are you already wearing the jeopardy suit?
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