I'm a neo-Luddite.
quote by Juliana Hatfield
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Gee, I am a complete Luddite when it comes to computers, I can barely log on!
quote by Jonathan Shapiro
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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
Beat your plowshares to swords
Philology lost in higher criticism
Proposition dry as agnosticism
Everyone shelters the relative
I am the ancient scrolls
You are the lost garden
Together we walk diseased streets
Ziggurats of sordid time
We measure the radiation
We measure the levels of hope
Proportion like Corinthian columns
Delphic creeds in mathematical poetry
We blend it altogether like a third world war
Have you seen the fallen angels?
poem by Joseph Narusiewicz
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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.
A trailing meteor on the Downs he rides above the rotting towns,
The Horseman of Apocalypse, the Rider of the Shires.
For London Bridge is broken down, broken down, broken down;
Blow the horn of Huntington from Scotland to the sea -
...Only flash of thunder-light, a flying dream of thunder-light,
Had shown under the shattered sky a people that were free.
poem by G.K. Chesterton
Submitted 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;
And time is bridged behind him
And our sons are with our sires.
A trailing meteor on the Downs he rides above the rotting towns,
The Horseman of Apocalypse, the Rider of the Shires.
For London Bridge is broken down, broken down, broken down;
Blow the horn of Huntington from Scotland to the sea --
...Only flash of thunder-light, a flying dream of thunder-light,
Had shown under the shattered sky a people that were free.
poem by Gilbert Keith Chesterton
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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