Where once a hillock was
Where once a hillock was
I see bulldozers, trucks
and cranes
busy digging
deeper into the earth.
Houses and tower blocks
rise where once
plants had grown green
against that kopje
and from infinity,
were undisturbed
until man’s hand
stretched out.
No one will know
how great it looked before
buildings broke the serenity
and the rich started to dwell
in houses above the cliffs
and nothing will ever mend
the damage done.
Nature is dying,
pines away and disappears
while people
are erecting buildings almost everywhere.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Related quotes
The invasion army
When houses dazzle on all the hillocks,
every swamp is drained
for sport fields,
bulldozers make roads
right through the veldt
and it becomes mines, factories
and office blocks
and sown farms cover the fields
and the bush veldt
disappears into timber mills,
the last trees become burning wood
and furniture
and concrete creeps up into the Karoo
and the clean air disappears
behind industrial fog,
car fumes and poisonous gas
so that the sun shine fades
there will be nowhere
to draw a trench
to ward off the technology
that covers the earth
since the invasion army
are marching in unstoppable
with lorries, bulldozers,
scrapers, graders
and cranes
and every yellow machine
and in only a few glamour books
you will read about warblers, plovers,
jackals, baboons, suricates,
rock rabbits and wild animals
and humans will be like in a zoo
curtailed beyond their own railings
and work and play caged in
while the state watches,
spies and controls them.
poem by Gert Strydom
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London
London, a silhouette of old and new buildings,
some, still with winding staircases,
dark dismal cellars and dusty attics.
Sky scrapers, office blocks,
chic cottages and town houses
in, tiny, back street lanes
where I seldom wander
The London Eye revolves in the sky line,
spying on us, ogling the City,
that old river Thames,
with its river boats, old ships,
odd ships and the Houses of Parliament,
offices, where we, the peasants
may only look through the glass.
As a child I truly believed
that one day, I'd go into every building,
curiosity my forte, but of course,
there are too many, mostly private,
barred from my prying eyes,
except for some Castles, the Palace,
the Tower and its dungeons.
These are the buildings of London,
with its art galleries, theatres,
churches and museums.
No doubt some are haunted,
their ghosts still walking
within their walls,
at dusk, when shadows fall.
poem by Ruth Walters
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Ball And Chain
(Colin Moulding)
Save us from the ball and chain,
Save us from the ball and chain,
Save us from the ball and chain,
oh yeah,
The diggers and the tower cranes,
The diggers and the tower cranes.
Don't want demolition,
Don't want your compensation,
It's not just bricks and mortar,
We are lambs to slaughter.
Save us from the ball and chain,
Save us from the ball and chain,
Save us from the ball and chain,
oh yeah,
The diggers and the tower cranes,
The diggers and the tower cranes.
Must we live in fear,
From those who shed no tears?
Our one and only shelter,
Your games, your helter skelter.
Motorways and office blocks,
They're standing on the spot
Where stood a home,
Crushing on the memories of people,
Who have since turned to stone.
(Ahh)
They've turned to stone,
(Ahh)
They've turned to stone.
Save us from the ball and chain,
Save us from the ball and chain,
Save us from the ball and chain,
oh yeah,
The diggers and the tower cranes,
The diggers and the tower cranes.
song performed by by Xtc
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Mother earth is crying
Mother earth is crying
The way man is treating
Water in scarcity
Rivers not deep
Houses and houses
Whole earth
Filled with factories
Their waste spoiling the soil
Creating a big turmoil
Greenery decreasing
Trees cut without thinking
Forests shrinking
Cities are increasing
Animals are dying
Snow melting
Heat is increasing
Mining and digging
Are like stabbing
Mother earth on the chest
For few grand
Lakes are full of filth
Fewer trees for shelter
Fewer birds now chirp
Let wisdom arrive
Don’t play with nature
Otherwise all will cry
No man will survive
Humans now wake
For your own sake
poem by Nirantar Dr.Rajendra Tela
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Ball & Chain
(colin moulding)
Save us from the ball and chain,
Save us from the ball and chain,
Save us from the ball and chain,
Oh yeah,
The diggers and the tower cranes,
The diggers and the tower cranes.
Dont want demolition,
Dont want your compensation,
Its not just bricks and mortar,
We are lambs to slaughter.
Save us from the ball and chain,
Save us from the ball and chain,
Save us from the ball and chain,
Oh yeah,
The diggers and the tower cranes,
The diggers and the tower cranes.
Must we live in fear,
From those who shed no tears?
Our one and only shelter,
Your games, your helter skelter.
Motorways and office blocks,
Theyre standing on the spot
Where stood a home,
Crushing on the memories of people,
Who have since turned to stone.
(ahh)
Theyve turned to stone,
(ahh)
Theyve turned to stone.
Save us from the ball and chain,
Save us from the ball and chain,
Save us from the ball and chain,
Oh yeah,
The diggers and the tower cranes,
The diggers and the tower cranes.
song performed by by Xtc
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Pleasant Autumn Day
A pleasant Autumn day of wind and sunshine
And yellow leaves depart their trees and fall
To Mother Earth who silently receives them
And wattlebirds on flowering gum trees call.
On this quiet side street of inner suburbia
The leaves are dying on the deciduous tree
But were i a poet I'd put my pen to paper
And write of the great beauty that i see.
For Nature's beauty can be found in strangest places
Far from the countryside it can be seen
Deciduous trees are golden brown in Autumn
And gums and wattles rich and evergreen.
And many urban people too love Mother Nature
And of workings of Nature there is much to know
They love to hear the birds sing in their gardens
And take pride in plants and trees they helped to grow
I respect those who respect Mother Nature
The damage done to her they try to mend
For Nature brings her beauty to all Seasons
And to every Nature lover I'm a friend.
In quiet side street in inner suburbia
Deciduous leaves to Mother Earth drift down
And wattlebirds are calling on the gum trees
And Mother Nature too lives in the town.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Empty Old Houses
Empty Old Houses
Empty old houses can talk…
But one must know how to listen…
to hear them
Empty old houses have stories…
But one must be eager to listen…
to hear them
Empty old houses can suffer..
But one must have empathy …
To feel it
Empty old houses can feel pain
But one must be able to bear it …
To feel it
Empty old houses have memories
But one must believe … that they have…
To share them
Empty old houses contain people’s lives
But one must believe…that they do…
To share them
Empty old houses can seem dead and deserted
But one must know that they’re not..
To know them
Empty old houses can teem with life’s pleasures
But one must walk through
to sense the aura of life
Empty old houses abound in life’s treasures
But one cannot help but…
To admire them
poem by David Whalen
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São Paulo
São Paulo
The city that I was born in
I never liked you since I was a child
São Paulo
Now that I am grown up I still don't like you either
I don't feel safe being in the streets in São Paulo
To me São Paulo is very ugly in real life
It is only beautiful in the postcards
There is no in between
Either you are rich or poor
There are too many contrasts
São Paulo
A city that never sleeps
São Paulo
I am glad that you don't have snow
One thing that is great in São Paulo is summer, the hot weather
I would go insane if I lived in here forever
For me it is like a prison
Because it is too dangerous to walk on the streets
It is a very depressing city
São Paulo
It is a real cement city
Buildings and more buildings
Hardly any green
It is an old city
450 years old
For me São Paulo
Is like a prison cell
poem by Aldo Kraas
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American Made (Nowhere To Turn)
American made....
in the fields, backs bent,
working the earth....
in the factories,
hands, eyes, and machines,
moving in well oiled unison....
in the mills,
cloth woven into warmth
and cover.....
on the sites,
buildings going up,
block by block.....
in the trucks,
barreling across the highways,
carrying goods coast to coast....
in the hospitals,
skilled hands healing,
hearts with shoes.....
American made,
standing in unemployment lines,
vacant buildings, trucks shut down....
American made....
not needed anymore,
with nowhere to turn!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Fences And Fidelities
marriages were made
to be broken, that seems to be the rule now
women have long demanded
fidelity
not 1% of unfaithfulness is considered
as an excuse
now, i travel alone, watching the long roads
approach me like a movie
houses in the cities forestalled by
tall buildings
inferior to the heights of modernization
seemingly the old houses are gone
now like marriages
except those in the suburbs
where old house still persists
with their fences
like fidelity, i guess it must be fenced
to keep it away from
infection, love a green grass
marriage still like an old lifestyle
where the wife picks the flowers
while the husband still plays
with his favorite dog
and his kids.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Progress (a concrete jungle)
Cloudy green
Lush Forest, made
of the stuff
dreams are made of,
a jungle of
culture and
heritage-
now a
city.
Dull grey
buildings, wailing
cries of bustling
cars in the
distance.
Skyscrapers, Skyscrapers
scrape
the
sky.
and the ever-
progressing society
labels it a
Jungle. All
these trucks
and bulldozers,
all part of
the immutable
progression of
Time,
of the long
and dreary
process we call
Development.
And
Skyscrapers, Skyscrapers
they
scrape
the
sky.
poem by Ballerina With Fins
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23feb Many Miracles Near Misses
many miracles
near misses
80% of city
has no water
water flooding
outside my place
stable thank God
ground shaking
'severe' in city
centre only 10
kilometres away
earthquake's epicenter
widespread reports
severe building damage
two buses crushed
by collapsing buildings
75 per cent of city
left without power
an active fault area
approximately 225
square kilometers
of fault load unloaded
'One side of the fault
moved about 1 metre
relative to the other'
last quake we
dogged the bullet
this is why
weaker is worse
last year's 7.1-magnitude
earthquake was more than
10 times stronger than 6.3
but caused no deaths
because it occurred deeper
at greater depth further
away from Christchurch
its epicentre was 40
kilometres west of city
that quake caused
widespread damage
several power outages
particularly in the city
of Christchurch but mass
fatalities were avoided
not a single soul died
because of miracle timing
4 September 2010
4: 35 am Saturday morning
the people the people
were safely sleeping
most people were off
the street few houses
are of unreinforced
construction that quake
was 10 kilometres
below ground
this quake was only
5 kilometres deep
this February earthquake
occurred during lunchtime
business rush hour traffic
in heart of work day Tuesday
not before dawn Saturday
many buildings were already
weakened from previous quakes
contrast risk minimum;
magic bullet empty
buildings; risk maximum
killing zone despair
New Zealand sits
on tectonic boundary
between Pacific plate
Australia-India plate
with 14,000 quakes a year;
Christchurch is another frontier
near to related secondary
faults; the Alpine fault
pristine Southern Alps
spine of the South Island
poem by Terence George Craddock
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The Smart Native And The Foolish Citizen
A BUSH MAN WAS TAKEN TO A CITY AND ON ARRIVAL AT THE CITY HE BEGAN TO STARE AT THE MARVELOUS CONSTRUCTIONS BY THE CITY PEOPLE!
A MAN WALKED UP TO HIM WHERE HE STOOD, AND ON NOTICING HIS NATIVE CLOTHINGS, THE MAN INSTANTLY KNEW THAT HE WAS A NOVICE, AND THE MAN WALKED UP TO HIM, CLEARED HIS VOICE AND SAID, HEY MR! WHAT BE THY ERRAND HERE? AND HOW MUCH HAVE YOU PAID FOR THE SIGHTINGS? HE ASKED THE BAFFLED NATIVE WHO REPLIED, PAID? I DIDN'T THAT I HAD TO PAY TO LOOK AT BUILDINGS! AND THE CONMAN QUICKLY RETORTED! AHA! YOU HAVE COMMITED A CRIME KNOWN AS LOOKERY BY CREDIT! AND IF YOU FAIL TO PAY, YOU WILL EARN A JAIL TERM OF SIX MONTHS! HE STATED AND THE NATIVE SAID, OH PARDON ME SIR, I HAVE ONLY LOOKED AT THREE BUILDINGS! THE CUNNING CITIZEN SPOKE, SAYING, THAT WOULD BE THREE DOLLARS! A DOLLAR FOR A BUILDING! THE NATIVE PAID THE MONEY AND WALKED OFF SMILING MISCHIEVIOUSLY AS HE TOUGHT TO HIMSELF! FOOLISH CITIZEN, I HAVE LOOKED AT ALMOST ALL THE BUILDINGS IN THIS CITY AND I PAID FOR ONLY THREE BUILDINGS!
poem by Overlord Don Manuel Ihcakeyno
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On The Front Line
I am a fireman here at home
And I put my life on the front line everyday
To save the people from burning buildings
Or from car accidents
Someday I am very lucky because I am able to save people from burning
Buildings and car accidents
But other days I am not so lucky because it depends where the fire is on The building
Sometimes I have to climb all the way to the top of the buildings
Very fast to save the people from the burning buildings here at home
Other times the fire on the buildings happened on the lower floor
Yes there had been times that I could not save the people from the
Buildings here at home because the buildings here at home had been Engulfed with smoke and all the people that live there died
Yes that was a very bad scene to see
At the end of the night I go home for my kids and my wife
When I arrive home my kids and my wife are already sleeping in bed
I don't have very much time to spend with my children
Because of my work
I don't enjoy being a fireman but the pay is good
So I don't have anything to complain about
I never talk about my work at home
At home I talk about different things to my wife and kids
But I know that my day starts very early everyday
poem by Aldo Kraas
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World Ending
World ending
Plants
Animals
People
Sufferin g
World ending
Death
Erosion
Fire
Over populating
World ending
Global warming
Planet dieing
Lakes evaporating
Buildings collapsing
World ending
Forests burning
People killing
Ice melting
Cities growing
World ending
People shaking
Paranoia
Insane asylum
Wrong diagnosis
World ending
Lost souls
Haunted houses
People screaming
Eyes closed
IF YOU OPEN YOUR EYES NOW
YOU CAN WATCH THE WORLD END….
poem by Alicia Boyke
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Cockatoo Twelve Years On '1995
It's been more than twelve years so they tell me since the flames of death passed through
Since the fire that caused destruction burnt it's way through Cockatoo
Lives were lost and houses burnt down blackened miles of countryside
And people wept for lost possessions for their life time work destroyed.
Tears for houses burnt to ashes, tears for lives lost in fierce flame
Tears for trees and paddocks blackened some say 'fire bug '
was to blame
Cockatoo a place of mourning only blackness to be seen
Only smell of smoke and burn out not one sign of Nature's green.
Twelve years on things seem so different Cockatoo looks green today
And who'd believe if you had not known that huge fire had burnt this way
Some still talk of their great losses and the hardships they'd been through
But they recovered built new houses and still live in Cockatoo.
Nature is her own best healer, Nature the true friend of man
Blackness caused by fire and burn out only last for a brief span
Cockatoo is one example what a change twelve years can bring
On green gum tree by the rail track i can hear the shrike thrush sing.
Here in cockatoo this morning fresh and pure the mountain air
Green the trees and green the paddocks green as i've seen anywhere
Twelve years back a blackened wasteland see how green she looks today
Nature is her own best healer and nature always has her way.
poem by Francis Duggan
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New Jersey The Garden State
In NYC where the buildings are tall,
so much to do, no time for it all.
Now across the Hudson River
is a much smaller state.
I hear there are very hard working people
who make this Garden State great.
Now the water in New Jersey
used to be Pristine,
It came out of underground springs
that was very CLEAN.
Oil refineries, and power plants to this date,
destroy Jersey but make NYC great.
By lighting up all their tall buildings
making it the City that Never Sleeps,
but hurting Jersey without anything to reap.
Lets bring back Jersey as it was in the past,
rid the state of it’s pollution that cannot last.
Written by Christina Sunrise Feb.10,2011
poem by Suzae Chevalier
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The never-ending road
I saw the landscape passing by,
while the car swept
on with a never-ending road.
Buildings rose up into the air
and everywhere people were
packed square by square
in offices, flats and apartments.
White yellow mine dumps
and huge cranes glided by
and I felt small as a fly,
against the immensity of it all
Acres of corn surrounded me
and all the way to the horizon,
I saw no tree.
The green was all around me
and a mechanical spray point,
where showering water in an arc.
The land flattened
while I drove South
and grey thorn bushes flashed by.
Here and there
some rocky outcrops
stood red brown against the flat plain,
but everything begged for a dropp of rain.
In the far distance up in the sky
a lightning bolt twisted to the ground
and when the rain came gushing down,
life sprouted from the sand.
The road stretched on
and in the distance
the black of the tar
met with the sky
and except for the windmills I passed by,
that road could have been
anywhere on this good great earth.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Lest We Forget
As earth roars beneath our feet there’s no place to hide.
Buildings fly and people cry with death on every side.
Dust and rubble now smother everything we see,
Though once again we refuse to be slaves of tragedy.
Nature stole our buildings; it can never take our pride.
Sights, sounds and smells choke senses on every side.
Too long a people subject to every unjust indiscretion;
Help us raise our heads…each a proud, renewed Haitian.
Rich neighbors thrive only a few miles away,
But for us time seems to have held centuries at bay.
Even before this rumbling tore our country apart,
Scourges of thirst and hunger left many a heavy heart.
To lift our spirits as we have done often before,
Mid this maudlin mirage where we’ll never really be poor,
We sing and we chant knowing God will help us carry on.
We thank him for what’s given, not what lament what is gone.
poem by Gregory Huyette
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The reason for this project comes from my childhood, that is clear to me. I did not have any toys. So, I played in the bricks of ruined buildings around me and with which I built houses.
quote by Anselm Kiefer
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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