Money Brings Power, Power Brings Injustice Poem by Tor Magnor Solvang

The pump stands dry, no fuel to feed.
No diesel now, a silent need.

Stations quiet, day and night,
Water trucks, a lagging sight.
Thirty hours, still they crawl,
Responding to a distant call.

Nigeria sleeps, power gone,
Many long days since day was dawn.
A glitch, they say, a technical fault,
But empty tanks brought down the vault.

Like Cuba's plight, a mirrored scene,
Where lights grew dim, and hope unseen.

Brazil's brief dark, a fading gleam,
Now rolling shadows, a waking dream.

When will it end?
No one can say,
As power flickers, then fades away.

The common thread, a stark decree,
A world without its energy.
Energy lockdown, they'll whisper low,
A phrase you'll hear, watch it grow.

In weeks to come, the news will speak,
Like 2020, but no masks to seek.

Lockdown, they'll say.
Lockdown, they'll plead.
Stay inside, a nation freed

From its own comfort, day and night.
No AC high,
No dryer bright.

No car to charge, a gentle plea,
Please comply, for you and me.

The same old game, a different guise,
Beneath the calm, a harsh surprise.
This isn't like a healing art,
It ends when oil finds a brand new start.

When currents surge through pipes unseen,
And life returns, vibrant and keen.