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Technology is not neutral.

quote by Godfrey Reggio
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Info Superhighway

Key:-
A - anita
R - ray
A: technology
R: virtual society
Info superhighway interaction
A: into the future, into the furture
Technology
A: see the world progressing all around us, its a virtual society
Info superhighway interaction, computer pal or enemy
So communicate with me
Wont you interact with me?
R: technicians, technique, technology
Its the most important thing in the industry
Its going further nowadays, cause they wanna get paid
Every day new discovery and plans to be made
Now get connected like an electric wire
Look out for the shock, look out for the fire
Just imagine how it would be
Without the thing they call technology.
A: interactive main
Interactive main
Info superhighway
A: see the world progressing all around us, its a virtual society
Info superhighway interaction, computer pal or enemy
So communicate with me
Wont you interact with me?
R: technicians, technique, technology
It runs the world and society
Digital revolution, technical solutions
For some it only brings more and more confusion
Do we still talk about civilization
cause we gotta look out for the computer invasion
Radio, telephone, or tv..
Would it be there without technology?
A: into the future
Into the future
R: energy from the inner mind
Technology
A: so communicate with me
Want you interact with me
A: see the world progressing all around us, its a virtual society
Info superhighway interaction, computer pal or enemy
So communicate with me
Wont you interact with me?
R: info superhighway interaction
A: technology
Technology
Technology

song performed by 2 Unlimited
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Not Understood By Anyone

Neutral, frothy, flowering, flowering
I'm neutral, I'm clear, I'm beautiful
The atmosphere in the color of the morning, fresh and free
Neutral, I want to be like the cool water!

Give me give a ray of your light
Necklace of time hanging around my neck
Looked up at me was still a friend.
Neutral, shining like the sun
I'm running short on time where?

I was neutral and was crying.
My friends who do not understand all gone
Alone in the solitude in a natural death
Glasses of the future of stem occupies my nose
Screams in silence, and hatred, I still
No theme, continues to leave me alone.

Screams in the storm, the color.
I can not enjoy it, I can not cope
Mother!
Who made ​ ​ me like this
No one helped me.

But I like to help
Will I hunt down time
I will make love with my loneliness
Loneliness is always with me and are familiar with
Here, I choose my destiny

Solitude will change but he is a true
Loneliness is a vanity that I can not understand
No one can touch me
Except, I choose solitude friend also
I can't play in the dark
I was scared of the dark I ran away

Break through reality, I entered the illusion again
For example, the face was turned to tears
How old is humanity, what about the story
I hope I meet everything in a neutral and friendly

With solitude, loneliness and eternity
For example, if this sort of entertainment for me
My best friend why did you all go.
Why do not you love me as solitude
Impartiality and the eternal.

poem by Irvan Hermawan Saichu
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Playing With Technology

What happens when a child plays with a razor?
What happens when a child plays with fire?
What happens when a child drives a car?

Man in his pursuit of technology is in the same pose
In his hand is a tool of technology, powerful and dangerous
But he’s acting like a child and doesn’t know its purpose.

Man’s still a child, no sense of purpose, no vision of the future
For a child the razor, the fire and the car are just for pleasure
It is obvious, for this same reason man pursues technology.

Man’s still a child, so selfish, self-centered and irresponsible
Doesn’t care about the world, his possessions is all that matters
But his mind, his most precious one, is neglected and in tatters

We’re like a child mesmerized by technology, by its power
Creating for us so much stuff, we feel much richer
But we’ve forgotten our world is delicate, our life fragile.

We’re like a child mesmerized by technology, so tempting
So much pleasure, so much convenience to us it’s giving
But we’ve forgotten our goal in this hostile universe is survival.

We’re like a child mesmerized by technology, so exciting
Faster and faster now we are driving it, not hesitating
It’s just a matter of time, it will crash! It will crash!

Now, we can see the destruction on the horizon looming
It’s been scientifically determined our planet is warming
Because, technology, that’s meant to save us, we abused it!

poem by Leonard Sims
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Take Me Down

Someday Im gonna pack up
And then Im goin back up
To that place where sentimental feelings arouse
Where the grass is so green
And the air is so clean
That when the wind is right you can even smell the cows
Take me down (take me down)
To that good old slo town
Where time shifts into neutral
And idles away
Take me down (take me down)
To that good old slo town
Ive got to get back
To that city today
If youre new in town
Then youll wanna look around
But you dont know where to begin
Well, theres bubble gum alley
And the local car rally
Not to mention the toilets at madonna inn
Take me down (take me down)
To that good old slo town
Where time shifts into neutral
And idles away
Take me down (take me down)
To that good old slo town
Ive got to get back
To that city today
Its not much of a hassle
To drive up to hearsts castle
And its not too far from pismo beach or morro rock
You can visit downtown at your leisure
Because for your shopping pleasure
The stores never close down until five oclock
Take me down (take me down)
To that good old slo town
Where time shifts into neutral
And idles away
Take me down (take me down)
To that good old slo town
Ive got to get back
To that city today
Take me down (take me down)
To that good old slo town
Where time shifts into neutral
And idles away
Take me down (take me down)
To that good old slo town
Ive got to get back
To that city today

song performed by Weird Al Yankovic
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The Vision of Judgment

I

Saint Peter sat by the celestial gate:
His keys were rusty, and the lock was dull,
So little trouble had been given of late;
Not that the place by any means was full,
But since the Gallic era 'eight-eight'
The devils had ta'en a longer, stronger pull,
And 'a pull altogether,' as they say
At sea — which drew most souls another way.

II

The angels all were singing out of tune,
And hoarse with having little else to do,
Excepting to wind up the sun and moon,
Or curb a runaway young star or two,
Or wild colt of a comet, which too soon
Broke out of bounds o'er th' ethereal blue,
Splitting some planet with its playful tail,
As boats are sometimes by a wanton whale.

III

The guardian seraphs had retired on high,
Finding their charges past all care below;
Terrestrial business fill'd nought in the sky
Save the recording angel's black bureau;
Who found, indeed, the facts to multiply
With such rapidity of vice and woe,
That he had stripp'd off both his wings in quills,
And yet was in arrear of human ills.

IV

His business so augmented of late years,
That he was forced, against his will no doubt,
(Just like those cherubs, earthly ministers,)
For some resource to turn himself about,
And claim the help of his celestial peers,
To aid him ere he should be quite worn out
By the increased demand for his remarks:
Six angels and twelve saints were named his clerks.

V

This was a handsome board — at least for heaven;
And yet they had even then enough to do,
So many conqueror's cars were daily driven,
So many kingdoms fitted up anew;

[...] Read more

poem by Byron
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Irises, a painting by Vincent van Gogh (Ekphrastic Poetry)

There is an explosion of green life in the light,
This life extrapolates all its emerald green.
This life needs its eternity to be as tight
And as deep as an icy queen needs her own sheen.

And all the colors of the rainbow may be seen
In different amounts to the different shades.
Blue iris is placed in a complex world of green.
Into the flowers’ bed, these flowers are like spades.

They need to reassure, as Pantone may suggest,
This world of mystery, which no longer excites.
With pale neutral yellow tongs, they're in great request,
With neutral yellow thoughts, they please the Queen of White.

Alongside darker colors, neutral things sustain
The balance of thoughts serving as background to pray.
The warm cadmium yellow may exigently drain
The bad spirits and irises keep them away.

Van Gogh used such a small amount of indigo,
While this indigo conveys truthfulness and trust,
But his emerald green was like a piccolo,
And through this emerald his world was readjust.

Using the bright head against the rich blue background,
Van Gogh sent messages writing with his colors.
In ochre's religious fight, he lost his ear's sound
To purify this world, where the thought discolors.

MCN: C7YFX-N68R2-2YAHJ

© copyright Tue Jan 31 UTC 2012 - All Rights Reserved

poem by Marieta Maglas
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Vision of Judgment, The

I

Saint Peter sat by the celestial gate:
His keys were rusty, and the lock was dull,
So little trouble had been given of late;
Not that the place by any means was full,
But since the Gallic era 'eight-eight'
The devils had ta'en a longer, stronger pull,
And 'a pull altogether,' as they say
At sea — which drew most souls another way.

II

The angels all were singing out of tune,
And hoarse with having little else to do,
Excepting to wind up the sun and moon,
Or curb a runaway young star or two,
Or wild colt of a comet, which too soon
Broke out of bounds o'er th' ethereal blue,
Splitting some planet with its playful tail,
As boats are sometimes by a wanton whale.

III

The guardian seraphs had retired on high,
Finding their charges past all care below;
Terrestrial business fill'd nought in the sky
Save the recording angel's black bureau;
Who found, indeed, the facts to multiply
With such rapidity of vice and woe,
That he had stripp'd off both his wings in quills,
And yet was in arrear of human ills.

IV

His business so augmented of late years,
That he was forced, against his will no doubt,
(Just like those cherubs, earthly ministers,)
For some resource to turn himself about,
And claim the help of his celestial peers,
To aid him ere he should be quite worn out
By the increased demand for his remarks:
Six angels and twelve saints were named his clerks.

V

This was a handsome board — at least for heaven;
And yet they had even then enough to do,
So many conqueror's cars were daily driven,
So many kingdoms fitted up anew;

[...] Read more

poem by George Gordon Byron
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Single Woman sans Technology! ! !

Hint of hacienda & a brazen romp down the hill
House built in sedate colors for the most part,
Stone colored tans, green fields stomped in red earth,
A marriage to time & mortality just falling short.

What those horn-rimmed unmended sagging fences hide?
A different story here they all together confide,
Open smack of blissful neglect, time-warped, forlorn place
Away from where those technological clans run ablaze.

What modesty those moss-kissed mammoth trees bare in refrain, ?
Like a stoic digesting a million insinuations a day,
And a dash of existence the overweight cattle gain,
Here I feel one full heart-clot of outraged jealousy,
Here where technology fills no pause & no cable wires block the terrain.

In my chest, empty spaces stood connected,
Where criss-cross Medusa phone wires tangled,
Where even in specks of silence static would enter,
With questions that intend to draw blood & answers that blur.

With wicked curiosity & one hand on the rump of history,
In relation to time why the bat hangs upside down?
Me the city-born nihilist, should I expose this pastoral treachery?
Then why do I stand on the wrong end of this idyllic tapestry.//

No binary digits conspire here, nor do plastic wastes clothe the feet-hind
Countryside has moved from the era of riches to wastes of a different kind,
From one breaking all land barriers, to one that inhibit,
To the era of new energies, with nothing for our future to bequeath.//

Oceanic blue skies, liquidate peach –worn clouds stormy,
Athletic sun takes the escalator & confirms gossip with the daisy,
Just like the cosmic umbilical friend, the Honeyed Moon,
Defies to no more be the transmitting station of all lunacy.

Like little lost children, wild figs &wild flowers run amok
With none to pluck, in a terrain of marshland &scrub,
No shrill locomotives, belching factories, collapsing
Automobiles or big-bellied planes blot the horizon.

Squirrels run marathons to hoard their nuts,
Like half the world convinced of the future death of the species,
& the other half laboring hard towards it,
A century moving towards directions it cannot comprehend,
Like a baby’s happy gurglings on a well-fed stomach.

Sun-ripened huddled lichens &grass trespass,
Who said only bulls think in categories? ,
Droning wind teases the bee-hives,

[...] Read more

poem by Seema joglekar
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Cloning Technology

Technology has turned reality into a paradox.
Forms are not always as they seem.
The struggle for non conformity
has become even more complicated.
Technology has learned to duplicate, rebuild,
and remanufacture reality and humanity.
The ability to take a template and replicate it
is not a fantasy anymore, it is a threat.
The struggle against conformity has become a
comprehensive investigation into technology
that works against the principle of individuality
and non conformity, CLONING TECHNOLOGY.
Humanity has become a relative term in the search for truth;
A search for clues.
A search for variables in life and mutation in a genus.
One will find that each form has been specifically
designed for the business of survival.

song performed by Fear Factory
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Technology Within Humanity

Technology realized
is the conceptualization
of nature harnessed.

Technology flourishes
expands upon laws
of nature studied
comprehended utilized.

Technology interacts
threatens the psyche
of humankind with
Jackal and Hyde
mirror images

creation destruction
potentialities
attesting to divinity
bestiality of nature
incorporated within.

Technology nature
are aspects affirming
environmental
comprehension
control divorce.

An absence
of nature
impoverishes
humanity
which imitates

creation
comprehended
striving
to evolve
reconcile back

to a godhead
where deep
division
dominating
beastly deeds

emotions
can be slain
forever
as passions

[...] Read more

poem by Terence George Craddock
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Eureka Rings A Bell

“Eureka! ” moments sometimes may result
from outright theft, with Graham Bell the worst
example. For he traveled to consult
the patent of Elisha Gray, the first
to find a way to speak by telephone,
and aided by a drunken patent clerk,
got credit for the patent which alone
should have been Gray’s, who did the major work
before the son of the professor Bernard Shaw
would use as Henry Higgins’ model stole
his great invention and used patent law
to take not part of credit but the whole.
Could it be that Archimedes, too,
stole from a competitor the math
enabling him to figure out what you
and I’ve been told he found out in his bath?

Marjorie Kehe reviews The Telephone Gambit, by Seth Shulman, in The Christian Science Monitor, January 9,2008:

How often does a detective story upend history? Probably about as often as a science and technology journalist pens a page-turner. But with this month's release of 'The Telephone Gambit' by Seth Shulman both these unlikely events are coming to pass at the same moment. This slender volume (252 pages, with notes and credits) is a work of nonfiction - although the strangeness of truth definitely overtakes fiction here as Shulman explains how he unraveled Alexander Graham Bell's claim to have invented the telephone. We may never be absolutely certain, but 'The Telephone Gambit' presents compelling evidence that Bell snuck a look at rival inventor Elisha Gray's patent application, stole a crucial element from it, and then lived an uncomfortable lie for the rest of his days. This is not the work of a muckraker. No one wanted to reach such a conclusion less than did Shulman, a longtime admirer of Bell's. But that's exactly why this book is such a good read. Shulman carefully spells out not only the steps he took to piece together his story, but also the reluctance he battled en route. Why would Bell - a man whose good character was noted by all who knew him - behave so dishonorably? How could he have stolen from a rival he had never met? And is it even possible that such a high-profile crime could have gone undetected for so long? The answers to these questions unspool neatly throughout Shulman's narrative but they read more like the stuff of thrillers than of the history of science. Figures in this real-life drama include (it would seem) an alcoholic patent clerk, some unscrupulous attorneys, and a beautiful young woman whom Bell yearned to marry. Shulman's first glimpse of the story came in 2004. He was enjoying a yearlong research fellowship at the Dibner Institute for the History of Science and Technology at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology. There, he was studying recently digitized reproductions of the private papers of Bell. Shulman was thrilled to be able to follow so close on the heels of his hero - yet puzzled by something he saw. Shulman knew the story of the invention of the telephone as well as anyone - or at least he thought he did. Alexander Graham Bell and Elisha Gray filed patent applications on the very same day in 1876. (Gray's was actually a 'caveat' - but it would have served the purpose of staking Gray's exclusive righ”The Telephone Gambit, ” by Seth Shulman in The Christian Science Monitor, January 0,2008: t to continue research in this area.) According to the official story, Bell filed a few hours earlier than Gray and so was awarded the patent. Then, the next month, he had the breakthrough moment we've all read about in the history books. (After spilling acid in his lab, Bell shouted, 'Watson, come here, I need you.' Watson, in another room, heard him through the device they were experimenting with and thus was born the telephone.) Or so we've always believed. But what troubled Shulman was that Bell's 'eureka moment' depended on an element that had been completely missing from Bell's research until only two days earlier. Then, this crucial link suddenly appeared in Bell's journal in a sketch remarkably similar to a drawing found in Gray's patent application. In the days just before this sketch appeared, Bell had not been working in his lab. On the contrary, he'd been in Washington, filing his patent claim. I won't spoil the fun (and it is fun) by explaining exactly how Shulman proceeded and what he discovered as he worked backward from that point. Bell, he ended up concluding, was a great innovator who had made much progress toward the telephone, but he is not its creator. Instead, it seems, he was a talented, decent man, who lived with guilt ever after being pressured into an unseemly act of theft. Shulman does a neat job of painting, in rapid brush strokes, a portrait of the thrilling era of innovation in which Bell lived and also of the interesting circumstances of his life. (His speech professor father was the real-life model for the Henry Higgins of George Bernard Shaw's 'Pygmalion.') Shulman also manages to lace his work with just enough technology to tell his story without losing the interest of any low-tech readers. As a result, 'The Telephone Gambit' succeeds splendidly as an edge-of-your- seat historical tale. Yet it also manages to go somewhere deeper, leaving readers with intriguing questions about the ways in which truth may remain undiscovered, even when lying open in plain sight.

© 2008 Gershon Hepner 1/16/08

poem by Gershon Hepner
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If you are neutral in situations of injustice, you have chosen the side of the oppressor. If an elephant has its foot on the tail of a mouse and you say that you are neutral, the mouse will not appreciate your neutrality.

quote by Desmond Tutu
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But even race-neutral policies and recruitment efforts designed to achieve greater diversity are, in the end, not race neutral.

quote by Adam Schiff
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Being Neutral

Sometimes being neutral
can be as bad as being at war.
When you have two warring friends,
you don’t want to take sides.
You are stuck in the middle,
an uncomfortable place to be.
So sometimes being neutral
is not a place you want to be.

4 May 2008

poem by David Harris
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I don't believe it's possible to be neutral. The world is already moving in certain directions, and to be neutral, to be passive in a situation like that, is to collaborate with whatever is going on. And I, as a teacher, do not want to be a collaborator with whatever is happening in the world. I want myself, as a teacher, and I want you, as students, to intercede with whatever is happening in the world.

quote by Howard Zinn
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Kobayashi Maru

My gleaming white constellation class Starship
(My dirty white Chrysler K car)
was out on patrol near the neutral zone
(I was driving back home from the bar)

It was then I received a distress call
(I urgently needed to pee)
Some Klingons decloaked in proximity
(I sped past a cop car or three)

I called for more speed from the engine room!
(My transmission started to shake)
Klingons pursued in the neutral zone
(They motioned to me HIT THE BRAKE!)

“What seems to be the Tribble, Officer? ”
I said to the humorless Gorn
That Klingon impounded my vehicle
(Because they caught me exceeding Warp Nine)

If Kirk faced this “no Win” situation
He’d probably get off with a fine.

poem by John F. McCullagh
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Bitter-Sweet Triple Sonnet - Current Version

Once Black, White, could compete
no neutral grey'd encumber
life's canvas - harvest wheat
framed golden peace aslumber.
Now hope tree's ninety feet
is felled, logged down as lumber,
eco-system complete
with canopy's down-under.
Grey - neutral once - concrete
ugly urban tundra
now witnesses, pain's street
paves joy's grave, wanton plunder.
Enthralled pure white delete,
grey pall shawl sprawls - death's treat.

Long nights creep bitter-sweet,
love's lightning darts stunned, under
bright stars two no more meet,
wan true heart torn asunder.
Wor[l]d block where wont to greet
glowed soul-pair sharing wonder, -
there hole weighs whole defeat
bewailing blindest blunder.
Moon bale, clouds shroud deceit,
light veiled from countless number
of throttled hopes, dead-beat
memories encumber.
Who'd read rimed rhyme complete,
need couplet indiscreet?

Despair in winding sheet
stifles resentment's thunder,
where weary tears repeat
wear, tear, bare bodkin's funda-
mental balance-sheet
pro's conned or misunder-
stood, as gale blown wheat,
scattered harvest plunder.
Drops sully virgin sheet
as sally weeps lost slumber
red-eyed vigil replete
with wishful-thinking scumber.
Was plighted troth tryst treat,
commitments vain conceit?

(14 March 2012)

poem by Jonathan Robin
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Alphabet Artistry

ALPHABET ARTISTRY
Able acrostic artist’s alignment adds air.
Alliteration asks acknowledgement aware,
Bard’s brain bequeaths benchmark billet, blends braid bans blare,
Beware braggarts’ boasts, banality, betrayal backstair.
Classic composition, clear content, compare
Creative couplets, compliment competent care.
Drawing descriptions deftly displayed debonair
Droll doggerel dubbed dextrous, doubts dismayed. Declare
Entertaining epistle’s extent e’er ensnare
Easy erudition evident everywhere
Fair fancy’s flight futility forbade, fine flair
Flickering forever – feeble fops fade – fan fair.
Great gifts, gainsay gameplay grandiloquent, gross glare,
Gain gleeful guests, greet gallant guy, girl, gent, goad galere.
Here he has honed his heavenly homemade highbrow
Handwritten harvest, handmade harlequinade … how?
Insight inviting idyll irreverent, ifere
Invents ideas intelligent, intent inhere
Judicious jumble joke jest judges jaded jeer,
Joins joyful jingle jamboree jacent jardinière
Kaleidoscopic knowledge knits kaross. Kowtow!
Knight’s kakemono knack karmic kudos. Know
Lines lyrical, lightheartedly linked, laid layer
Liltingly linger, lasting leisure lent lustreware
Mute melancholy! Muse’s masquerade mayor
Master musters magic meter, music made midair
Neat new needlecraft, never negligent ne’er
Neutral, negative nonsense, nonevent nowhere.
Ode’s object - open offering - obeyed order
Onomatopoeia overlayed over
Poetic passions, purposefully pent, prepare
Portrait pasquinade polyvalent poetic pair
Quick-witted quips quell quitters querulent, queer.
Quizmaster quality quite quiets querent. Quair’s
Rhymic reel responsive, readymade, reads rare
Reverberation, readily relaid repair.
Stanzas succinct, shrewd signposts sapient, should share
Such skillful stringing signals softly sent. So spare
The thesis, tested, triumphs, teasing trade that there
Takes time to twin terms taut, taught twined torsade tough to tear
Usage unexpected unpenitent, - unfair?
Unravels uniformity, unpent unaware.
Vitality, vim, vetoed vehement vaporware,
Vivacious verse’s veriloquent vent via vare
When willing writer worked with wonderment where
Weaving worthwhile wordplay wreath while weekend went west ware.
Xylophonic xenagogue xeroxes XX XY,
Xenial xesturgy xenogamy x-rays Xerxes, xanthous Xanthippe
Yet Ylem, Yggdrasil, yug yesterday, - yare

[...] Read more

poem by Jonathan Robin
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Surreal Ballard Of Tahrir Square

script implausible was so bad surreal
a badly written distorted dream scene
by hack writer with his train off de track

a director still coupled to an antique
loose caboose directing a crummy
crew straight out of sad clown wagon

hear bark a doghouse glory wagon
nationalist saviour script monkey
wagon attack techniques yes these

lapdogs trained as running dogs were
about to be let loose from monkey
wagon many bused in especially for

lackey protest busting feature occasion
moral railroaded false charge imagery
“don’t fall asleep on trains coz trains run

over sleepers” view protesters in lime
light were about to be overwhelmed
ruthlessly crushed steamrolled to pave

one way for Mubarak to oh so smoothly
retain President power so run mad house
script bizarre surging footage shot real?

roll cameras action paid men came with
baseball bats pieces of broken window
frames machetes one homemade spear?

form a line a small group plainclothes
policemen block one broad boulevard
leading into Tahrir Square now symbolic

epicentre
of peaceful Egyptian
revolution

poor police publicly shamed had been
driven from streets so used to controlling
last Friday now had come to hero reclaim

what? A ruthless reputation, proud ego,
status regarded as rightfully lawfully
theirs? Police gathered on Qasr el-Aini

prepared themselves for confrontation
with brave protesters who had humiliated

[...] Read more

poem by Terence George Craddock
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Love You Grandchildren

Calling the grandparents,
May make them happy,
When calling itself a problem,
How to make them happy?

When the thorns were sown,
in the young hearts,
When the ill memories are planted,
in the young thoughts,
When the bacterial and viral words were introduced,
to develop immunity,
Children have become immune to love and affection,
when they are old.

Be kind to your grandchildren,
when they are young
so they will be kind to you,
when you are old.
Be neutral to your grandchildren,
when they are in the cousin crowd,
so they will be neutral to you,
when you are in the elderly crowd.
Be generous with love to your grandchildren,
when they are sick and troubled
and they will be generous to you,
when you are really ill and worried.
Be the grandparents to your grandchildren,
As they do not have any other grandparents,
but you.

poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
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