Quotes about capitalism, page 18
Insidious Ism
see to it, my will
i shall not lie
beneath democracy
fallen;
a soulless creature
given not to
god,
but to reckless
ideology.
seduced, to an ism
insidious;
society ignored, collapsed,
human conscious, collective
given
into the economy trap.
o you foolish being
i think you not,
aware,
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poem by Phil Charters
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Sweat Corn.....the Other Girls...around...
THE KEY WORD IS
'HE IS CRAZY''
NOW IMAGINE...
A GIRL....
EVERY GIRL...YOU CAN POSSIBLY SEE
360 degres ALL AROUND....
SAY IT IN HER OWN WAY.....
AY! !
MAN! ! ...NOW WE ARE TALKING....
HUMANITY
SPEAKS UP...
AT ONCE
IN THE SAME TIME....
like 'WE ARE THE WORLD'....song
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poem by Atef Ayadi
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Western Intervention
Signs silhouette blatant brutality
poke one within discerning eye.
When reprieved policy
condemns status quo.
Turning each blind eye.
Signs symptomatic beat brutality
suddenly create howls hooting protest.
Convenient bleating blames
leader rather redeeming leaping lead.
Logic seldom synoptic remarks.
Where ends group responsibility?
Where ignition individuality commences?
Where each flippant ominous individual
bids votes obliging oppressive power?
Dictates gain platform party support.
Elective horned move in.
Putting gored clinical end.
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poem by Terence George Craddock
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Wall Street
On the wall of Facebook of uncertainty
your blog is written-
A Street that swirls to Capitalism.
What to occupy?
Anarchy, Crash, War, or a History?
JP Morgan, Daniel Drew, Jay Gould or the WTO?
Prairie farmers, urban workers middle sizes traders
denounced 'Money Trust';
ultimately trusted money.
Progressive Reformers charged the 'Devil Fish'
degrading democracy;
finally joined to loot the other people's money.
Working -class socialists welcomed the money street
as a transit route toward collective ownership;
now distrusted.
It is not a Chinese wall-street
that encircled the capital
It is an American firewall that
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poem by Vidyut Chakraborty
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This Is Getting More And More Outrageous
'What is the hold up here?
The orchestra is ready.
The chorus members are all in place.
The debaters are going over their notes.
The moderator looks impatient.
And the audience is becoming restless.
What is the delay?
What are we waiting for?
Even the media has begun to ask questions.'
It's...
The vendors.
'The VENDORS?
You've got to be kidding me? '
No.
I'm not.
They have decided to go on strike.
And since they are now unionized...
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poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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A New And A Better World
A new and a better World I may not live to see
But the time is not far distant when all people will live free
Of oppressive regimes and terrorism and greed and poverty
For all of those poor victims of capitalism who live in penury.
A new and better World may be a century away
And I for one will not be around for to celebrate that day
And though one hundred years may seem far off in time not a lengthy span
Only the life time after all of one long lived woman or man.
We may not be that far away in time when ageing people will recall
We never thought we'd live to see the day of a fair go for all
When people are not discriminated against due to their religion or race
And in human society for poverty and oppression there isn't any place.
A new and a far better World for me will come too late
For time is ever ticking and the reaper for me wait
But the day is not that distant when people in wars or of hunger will not die
And a fair go is something that all people will enjoy.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Our Land of Love
Can we talk over coffee…
And see how wrong we are…
The world is watching…
Who we are…compared…
To whom we are…
Murder in our schools…
Our raping of land…
God does not bless the ugly…
Man…
Smiles we show while…
On the go…
Shuffling the poor to and fro…
Killing the poor no one knows…
“God Bless America”…
That we shout from mountain…
And roof tops alike…
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poem by whisperkwane Lamb
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The issue which I propose for discussion should … be clear: how to counter the encroachment of new, electronic devices and systems upon commons that are more subtle and more intimate to our being than either grassland or roads — commons that are at least as valuable as silence. Silence, according to western and eastern tradition alike, is necessary for the emergence of persons. It is taken from us by machines that ape people. We could easily be made increasingly dependent on machines for speaking and for thinking, as we are already dependent on machines for moving. A transformation of the environment from a commons to a productive resource constitutes the most fundamental form of environmental degradation. This degradation has a long history, which coincides with the history of capitalism but can in no way just be reduced to it. Unfortunately the importance of this transformation has been overlooked or belittled by political ecology so far. It needs to be recognized if we are to organize defense movements of what remains of the commons.
quote by Ivan Illich
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Down to the Ground
Pride goes before a fall
High lofty towers burn to the ground
Symbols of money, oppression
Wealth built on the backs of slaves
I am for the distribution of wealth
For all the nations rising
Lets see health care for all
Lets send all to school and college
I hate the death of the innocent
False religions shall also burn
The earth shall soon be on fire
Everything that should fall, will fall
Look at the angry flag worshippers
Idolaters who put nation above love
Ideologies of amassing power
Propaganda, your country is better
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poem by Joseph Narusiewicz
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Lonesome Refugee's Song
with purpled rage i strike the page,
with words i cant contain.
whether to justify or testify,
that lives be not lived in vain.
all that's strange, the cry for change,
the burned out buildings moan.
the tried and true, the old and new,
the lonesome refugee's song.
no need for preacher, or well paid teacher,
this blade against the wheel.
no vain illusions driven by confusion,
let us speak of what is real.
the blood stained hands of arrogant man,
that cannot be washed clean.
the hollow greed that takes from need,
the faces that haunt my dreams.
the cost of war, capitalism's whore,
driven by the oil that kills.
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poem by Eric Cockrell
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