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I'm a neo-Luddite.

quote by Juliana Hatfield
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Neoliberalism And The IMF

Who imposed neoliberalism upon
its victims and what is vile agenda?
Neoliberalism revealed road to hell.

As neoliberalism spreads
agenda fed around the world
like a modern day plague

or a Sheriff of Nottingham
coldly counting out gold coins
amassed stolen from serfdom.

We skip merrily to powerhouse
baron modern day bankers
International Monetary Fund.

The serf medieval farmer
of feudal Europe cultivating
land belonging to a knight?

The landowner buys sells serfs
as land is bought and sold
purchased sold with the land.

Who today could be likened
to a labourer legally bound by
law serving his lord master?

Who indeed? Ignoring modern
slavery more prolific than ever
historically in contemporary
many layered twistered forms?

Is it true that around the world
neoliberalism is imposed by
powerful financial institutions?

Esteemed institutions like famous
International Monetary Fund (IMF)
the Inter-American Development
Bank and the World Bank. Yes!

Banks rape raging all over Latin America!

Neo-liberalism weeds CIA its way into Chile
courtesy agenda of University of Chicago
Milton Friedman who hates welfare dependency
CIA-supports coup against local popularly
elected Allende regime in takeover 1973
then takes out regimes in other countries...

[...] Read more

poem by Terence George Craddock
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Neo Cons

They are known as neo cons and they live the good life
But they show no compassion for those in financial strife
And with economic rationalization they totally agree
Economic rationalization that for many spells utter poverty
They are at the right side of the social divide
Where the gap between the haves and the have nots has grown ever wide
And not much advantage to you a booming economy
If you are despondent and in poverty,
The neo cons have their own exclusive club
You will not find their type down at the local pub
With other neo's and neo cons in posh restaurants they dine
And they only drink the most expensive of wine
And compassion is a word they never do use
And they refer to poor people as those born to lose.

poem by Francis Duggan
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Peregrine Vulture

Death lurks with laughing, flashing eyes
and fusty-fetid forlorn sighs;
Salacious beast in sheol's mask-
gravedigger digging at his task.

Peregrine Vulture, viscid sweet,
devouring Western culture neat.
And lipid leavings steam the streey-
while proud piped pipers play the beat.

Most Western cultures waft and wane,
rejecting poverty's canard.
Spawn from alien earthen plane;
naive nouvea it's own petard.

eternal songs of freedom ring;
neo-cons kneel to 'just their drum,
hearing only neo-cons sing
and humming their own hubis hum.

Contentious inattention made
turbulent with temerity,
a price that Western cultures paid
that adds to world hostility.

Scorn has stained sweet liberty's dreams,
and pompous prophet neo-cons,
with sick and secret silent schemes,
break their bread with bludgeoning bombs.

Death still lurking-lusting in wait,
great defender of no culture,
feigning fates felicity great-
feed fast and proud Peregrine Vulture.

poem by Sara Stowell
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A State in the grip of neo-colonialism is not master of its own destiny. It is this factor which makes neo-colonialism such a serious threat to world peace.

quote by Kwame Nkrumah
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India is yet to be free

In the external colonialism
A mighty country rules the weak one.
In the neo colonialism,
A rich country dictates the poor one.
In the internal colonialism,
A sect dominates the other within.
Free from neo colonialism
And internal ones, India is yet to be.

poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Neo Geisha

Play
Let's play
It's so cold
So alone
Play
Let's play
Like there's no tomorrow
Hey Now Now
My Neo Geisha
Helterspace
So give in to the voice inside your head
Repeating everything you've said
Give in for the S in suicide
Give in to the pain
My Neo Geisha
From the bottom
Of my inflatable heart
I'll give you one chance to pray
For a happy end that doesn't exist
For a goodbye that's never been kissed
I catch you right before you fall
The 21st century doll
I see your face in a mirror ball

song performed by Zeromancer
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Why Do Children Of The Poor

Why do children of the poor die so readily?
By the age of five
they're already disarmed for life.
Is money a gene they're missing?
Or is their suffering
just a diminished immunity to the rest of us?
The gluttons of knowledge
discuss James Joyce in a loud voice
in well-lit universities.
With great nuance and finesse
they enumerate the seven kinds of ambiguity
and the mean diameter of the vowel O
in the context of neo-Chicago Aristotelianism
in the latter plays of Shakespeare
where the commas fall like worms
out of every page of his art
as if he couldn't punctuate
the death-rage in his heart
with the subtler points
of the neo-critical literati.
I think Shakespeare would have seen
the sterling irony
of debating proto-Nostratic linguistics
while living children all around him
can't read their names in their own mother-tongue.
If the same word for oak
was the word we used for door
when we all learned to speak the same language
milennia ago
it's not hard to imagine
given modern advances in communication
that the word for child
that we used way back then
is the root of the word we use for atrocity today.
Why do the children of the poor die so readily?
Nature or nurture?
Is it because the children of the rich
are taught that wealth is longevity
and the children of the poor
who can't read the fine print
bleed to death like expired medical plans?
Why do the rich think that the poor
are the reason their children suffer
and the best thing to do is make orphans of them
by sending the poor of one nation
to war against another
to keep the economy growing
and cut back on the unemployed
like deer culled from a budget in hunting season?
If you're a child born from this womb

[...] Read more

poem by Patrick White
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I never held any preference between Republicans and Democrats, since I always believed that, although both parties diverge in terms of social policies, they both bow down to the same Wall Street puppet-masters. However, a rabid lunacy has overtaken the Democrats and their Big Media proxies. Sadly, it manifests in the most pernicious forms of racial, sexual, and political neo-McCarthyism. If a person can be linked closely to a Russian, then he may be accused of treason. If a man is the least bit aggressive with a woman, then he might be tarnished as a predator. If a white has the audacity to contradict a black or brown, then he faces ludicrous denunciation as a racist who is guilty of privilege. In the future, historians will look back upon this chapter in USA history, in which a contagion of politically correct fascism, aka, neo-McCarthyism, swept across the land, and they may determine that the cumulative damage to the national psyche constitutes a cultural Black Death, far more nefarious to the human spirit than the original medieval plague."

quote by Catman Cohen (2017)
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Gnostic Texts

Described as snobbish and elite
by Garry Wills,
what the Church wished to delete
provides me thrills.
I’m thinking of the Gnostic text
that, somewhat rude, is
opposed to those disciples vexed
by deeds of Judas,
proposing that he was opposed
to martyrdom,
which Christians have so long supposed
to be the bomb
that made so popular the myth
this text explodes.
Like Pagels, I am happy with
such Gnostic codes.

Inspired by “Reading Judas: The Gospel of Judas and the Shaping of Christianity, ” by Elaine Pagels and Karen L. King (New York: Penguin,2007) , and Gary Wills’s description of second century Gnostic texts such as “The Gospel of Juddas” as “elite and snobbish” in his book “What The Gospels Meant, ” reviewed by David Gibson (“What Jesus Really Did, ” NYT, March 2,2008) :
“What the Gospels Meant” starts straightforwardly with a helpful explanation of just what a Gospel is: “a meditation on the meaning of Jesus in the light of sacred history as recorded in the sacred writings.” Wills then parses the Gospel of Mark, the earliest account, as a “report from the suffering body of Jesus, ” written to comfort early Christians facing persecution. Matthew’s is the teaching Gospel, recounting many of Christianity’s most familiar sermons. The erudite Luke presents “the reconciling body of Jesus, ” a Gospel of poignant stories like the Prodigal Son and the Good Samaritan that display the humanity of Jesus and the universality of his message. John is, as ever, the theologian, a prophetic voice from “the mystical body of Jesus.” Yet the paradox of modern Christianity is that the growth of biblical scholarship, and the fervor of believers in sola Scriptura (Scripture alone) , has done so little to affect the mass of biblical illiterates who proclaim their convictions about what Jesus would do while knowing precious little about what he actually did or, more important, what he meant. Neo-atheists aren’t much better, sneering at Christians but displaying ignorance about Christianity. And neo-Gnostics — academics and acolytes who claim to channel the rebel spirit of various early Christian offshoots — routinely confer on “elite and snobbish” (Wills’s phrase) second-century texts an authority they rarely grant to the canon. Such literalism sustains a fragile faith.
In this sense, Wills is a dangerous man. He does not create a foolish consistency out of differing Gospels, but underscores the attributes of each narrative to highlight truths more crucial than whether there were four discrete Evangelists, or whether three wise men actually followed a star in the East. The credulous will be shocked by his rationality, while skeptics will be scandalized by his respect for the faith. To be sure, Wills includes asides that will win few points with Rome, like his claim that the virgin birth “is not a gynecological or obstetric teaching, but a theological one.” And he throws in facts that can be mischievously tossed out at family gatherings or, worse, to the pastor after Sunday services — for example, that the crown of thorns was probably a wreath of acanthus leaves. (Wills also provides his own translations of the original “marketplace” Greek, though I’m not sure that killing the “pampered” calf or hearing that the Word became flesh and “bivouacked with us” will catch on.)

12/28/09

poem by Gershon Hepner
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Gee, I am a complete Luddite when it comes to computers, I can barely log on!

quote by Jonathan Shapiro
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The Old Song

A livid sky on London
And like the iron steeds that rear
A shock of engines halted
And I knew the end was near:
And something said that far away, over the hills and far away
There came a crawling thunder and the end of all things here.
For London Bridge is broken down, broken down, broken down,
As digging lets the daylight on the suken streets of yore,
The lightning looked on London town, the broken bridge of London town.
The ending of a broken road where men shall go no more.

I saw the kings of London town,
The kings that buy and sell,
That built it up with penny loaves
And penny lies as well:

And where the streets were paved with gold the shrivelled paper shone for gold,
The scorching light of promises that pave the streets of hell.
For penny loaves will melt away, melt away, melt away,
Mock the men that haggled in the grain they did not grow;
With hungry faces in the gate, a hundred thousand in the gate,
A thunder-flash on London and the finding of the foe.

I heard the hundred pin-makers
Slow down their racking din,
Till in the stillness men could hear
The dropping of the pin:
And somewhere men without the wall, beneath the wood, without the wall,
Had found the place where London ends and England can begin.
For pins and needles bend and break, bend and break, bend and break,
Faster than the breaking spears or the bending of the bow,
Of pagents pale in thunder-light, 'twixt thunderload and thunderlight,
The Hundreds marching on the hills in the wars of long ago.

I saw great Cobbett riding,
The horseman of the shires;
And his face was red with judgement
And a light of Luddite fires:
And south to Sussex and the sea the lights leapt up for liberty,
The trumpet of the yeomanry, the hammer of the squires;
For bars of iron rust away, rust away, rust away,
Rend before the hammer and the horseman riding in,
Crying that all men at the last, and at the worst and at the last,
Have found the place where England ends and England can begin.

His horse-hoofs go before you
Far beyond your bursting tyres;
And time is bridged behind him
And our sons are with our sires.

[...] Read more

poem by G.K. Chesterton
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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The Old Song

A livid sky on London
And like the iron steeds that rear
A shock of engines halted
And I knew the end was near:
And something said that far away, over the hills and far away
There came a crawling thunder and the end of all things here.
For London Bridge is broken down, broken down, broken down,
As digging lets the daylight on the suken streets of yore,
The lightning looked on London town, the broken bridge of London
town.
The ending of a broken road where men shall go no more.

I saw the kings of London town,
The kings that buy and sell,
That built it up with penny loaves
And penny lies as well:

And where the streets were paved with gold the shrivelled paper
shone for gold,
The scorching light of promises that pave the streets of hell.
For penny loaves will melt away, melt away, melt away,
Mock the men that haggled in the grain they did not grow;
With hungry faces in the gate, a hundred thousand in the gate,
A thunder-flash on London and the finding of the foe.

I heard the hundred pin-makers
Slow down their racking din,
Till in the stillness men could hear
The dropping of the pin:
And somewhere men without the wall, beneath the wood, without
the wall,
Had found the place where London ends and England can begin.
For pins and needles bend and break, bend and break, bend and break,
Faster than the breaking spears or the bending of the bow,
Of pagents pale in thunder-light, 'twixt thunderload and thunderlight,
The Hundreds marching on the hills in the wars of long ago.

I saw great Cobbett riding,
The horseman of the shires;
And his face was red with judgement
And a light of Luddite fires:
And south to Sussex and the sea the lights leapt up for liberty,
The trumpet of the yeomanry, the hammer of the squires;
For bars of iron rust away, rust away, rust away,
Rend before the hammer and the horseman riding in,
Crying that all men at the last, and at the worst and at the last,
Have found the place where England ends and England can begin.

His horse-hoofs go before you
Far beyond your bursting tyres;

[...] Read more

poem by Gilbert Keith Chesterton
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Fallen Angels

Left bank of the Seines
Elegant as Rodin’s mistress
Sculptured lioness of summer
Freedom revels like astrology
No base can mold the wind
Notre Dame writhes the asp
The city bells wail the change
Deco art of the juggernaut
Leave your Luddite souls
Spires of the new age
Disraeli moors of progress
Awaken the sleeping peasant

Some of us belong in deep caves
Madness has shrill winds
Visit your minaret chandeliers
Throw your coins into the fountain
Sensual robes of azure pornographers
Kingdoms from the lofty star
Burning kingdoms
Stone eyes as tearless as the dead
Rituals of the Prozac priest
Prosaic islands where reason hides
What is this coming on the earth?
Cover yourself you men of ideals

Canals like Mars
She sleeps with every artist
He cries like atomic clocks
We meet with insatiable color
Color of the silent blue tears
Red laughter of the jealous lover
Yellow disdain of the coward braggart
Now the towers burn
Phallus glory of the golden scholar
Serpent of the tortured tree
Green as genetically modified alfalfa
Your grand logo of lotus meditation

Everything is weighed and leveled
The nations are swirling dust
Empires rust in the portent wind
Come out from the tombs
Hear the clarion call of the prophets
Rome will raise its legions
Babylon sires all its sorcerers
The western dream a broken cistern
Vials and trumpets come
Principalities ride the dragon
Sodom and Gomorrah plays

[...] Read more

poem by Joseph Narusiewicz
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I am what you might call abstractly anti-capitalist. For instance, I am suspicious of the old leftists who focus all their hatred on the United States. What about Chinese neo-colonialism? Why are the left silent about that? When I say this, it annoys them, of course. Good!

quote by Slavoj Zizek
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The youth of France do not want a new neo-liberal contract.

quote by Peter Hall
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We can't put up a protectionist dam on our own against the neo-liberal world market either. However, we can try, together with our European partners, to maintain the social character of Europe as much as possible.

quote by Johan Huizinga
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It is said that a neo-conservative is a liberal who has been mugged by reality.

quote by Stockwell Day
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In the U.S the right is very wide. From Neo con's to almost Anarchist.

quote by Tom Metzger
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The truth is often terrifying, which I think is one of the motifs of Larry and Andrew's cinema. The cost of knowledge is an important theme. In the second and third films, they explore the consequences of Neo's choice to know the truth. It's a beautiful, beautiful story.

quote by Keanu Reeves
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Wrapping Up The Proterozoic

EON PROTEROZOIC (sijo)
Empires Of Nobility, Prokaryotic Rulers.
Oxygenated Transitory Eukaryotic Relics.
Obliterated Zooids Of Icy Cryogenation.

PALEO-PROTEROZOIC (haiku)
One billion years.
Apart from catastrophe,
not a lot happened.

MESO-PROTEROZOIC (tanka)
Life-forms discovered
Sexual Reproduction.
The Earth moved below.
Colliding tectonic plates
created Rodinia.

NEO-PROTEROZOIC
Nebulous
Ed iacaran
Organisms.
Proto-animal
Rarities.
Otherworldly
Terrestrial
E nigmas.

Random
Outcast
Zoolites
O f
Inimitable
Creation.

poem by Diane Hine
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