Post-modernism is dead because it didn't address human needs.
quote by David Guterson
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Post-Modernism was a reaction against Modernism. It came quite early to music and literature, and a little later to architecture. And I think it's still coming to computer science.
quote by Larry Wall
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Post-modernism is modernism with the optimism taken out.
quote by Robert Hewison
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I firmly believe that as voters come to learn more and more about John Kerry and learn more and more about his message that they're going to want a President who is willing to address the fact that we didn't have a post-war plan in Iraq.
quote by Harold Ford
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Post-modernism has cut off the present from all futures. The daily media add to this by cutting off the past. Which means that critical opinion is often orphaned in the present.
quote by John Berger
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I Too Am Human
I too am human.
And exist with human needs.
At one time I believed,
Those needs I had...
Were in the pleasing of others.
And that was okay,
For those days long gone away.
But those days long gone away,
Today I do not address.
I too am human.
And when I awakened to realize,
Just how human I was...
I felt grateful and blessed,
To have been there for others.
But today...
My needs I want met.
I too am human.
And today that is what I address.
The giving, the taking with its heartbreaking,
Has been done with the best of my time invested.
I too am human.
And it has taken me a while to digest it.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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One of the very basic ideas of Post-Modernism is rejection of arbitrary power structures. Different people are sensitive to different kinds of power structures.
quote by Larry Wall
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Modernism is typically defined as the condition that begins when people realize God is truly dead, and we are therefore on our own.
quote by Phillip E. Johnson
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lOGIC of Uncertainty
No criticism dissolving into the reality of nowhere
Who can say you are so true to yourself
Swaying leaves falling from the sky of limitless hope called 'being human' the address in the world of no reconigination
Dead brain dead imaginatoin dead future without maps
Calling out on the piano blackenede truths
Diving into the pooof heartless decision
No ending but only labyrith on floating education
A ""modern"" man has nothing to add to modernism, if only because he has nothing to oppose it with. The well-adapted drop off the dead limb of time like lice.
quote by Elias Canetti
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A concert for the mushroom
A concert for the mushroom
Post modern
Pre mortal
Ab normal
Sur real
This is the whirl of time
This is the voice of smoke
This is the spiral of crime
This is the dead end choke
Sir, it’s real!
Madam, they kill!
Simulae posed
Post mortem masked
Modernly slaughtered
Pre meditated
Dust dedicated
Inter located
Exter okayted
Imp- exp- pumps
Imp- exp- pumps
Pumps the heart of earth
Sir, it’s real!
Madam, they kill!
Post
Split
Atomic
Human
Destr uctively
Anatomic
Conductors
Rage their war
Of sticks
Sir, it’s real!
Madam, they kill!
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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Furious Irene Leaves and what You Gained?
We knew that you're coming
But the dilemma is who sent you here
Without a from address on the envelope?
You're happy it seems leaving on Sunday.
Flooding and millions without power.
Rivers and creeks too angry
For twenty one deaths!
Human beings were kept quiet
For their lost and they know
That they cannot proceed to a court?
A rescued bird on a slanted lamp post
Witnessed all the rage.
She's worried about the flight to heaven
Already cancelled!
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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At The Grave Of The Unknown Soldier
He was a brave soldier he died young and brave
And for more than six decades he lay in his grave
And still at the dawning of each war memorial day
At his grave site a young bugler the last post does play.
Known as the Unknown Soldier one without a name
Still he had a mum and a dad just the same
And when he did not return home when the fighting was done
They grieved at their loss and they wept for their son.
The war to end all wars of all wars 'tis said
But more wars are fought and we have more war dead
And at the grave of the unknown soldier the last post is played
And to honour the war dead another parade.
Old war men do tell us young soldiers fight and die
For freedom and liberty that is a lie
They went to war when young they are now old and gray
Some grow old not wiser some are known to say.
That they were fighting for freedom and justice they believed to be true
And they were quite gallant to give them their due
But many deprived of their human rights in the World of today
And that does seem a very sad thing for to say.
With heads bowed old men showing their years in gray
At the grave of the Unknown Soldier at the dawn of the day
In silence do listen as a young bugler the last post does play
For one who fought and died in a war far away.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Post Modernism
Illusive unity in religions of ideology
Nothing can replace the universal
Fragments and strands collide
Darkness and light will always be
Right and wrong have not changed
Alchemist of the human soul
Retreat from the political madness
Down to the ground where love abides
Tree of the knowledge of good and evil
Man constantly divides himself
Out of many one
Definitions become temporary
Morality is an old fascist
Culture changes into fragments
Everything is accepted
Utopia turns to fretful, fearful life
Homogenization
Technology with the loss of ethics
Sin disappears - sex becomes a drug
Androgynous freedom with no base
No boundaries with the Tower of Babel
Money acts like a universal
Like spirit and religion
Globalization
The image of God diminished
The image of man diminished
Post modernism in a frigid world
poem by Joseph Narusiewicz
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Do Not Post Your Poem Here
Do not post your poem here
Unless you've something worth a say!
You must not waste a space like this,
For space can waste away!
Do not post your poem here
With words which make no sense!
Be careful when you post it here
That you use the proper tense!
Do not post your poem here
Just to fill a space with words!
A poem should be well thought out,
Was it meant to be absurd?
Do not post your poem here
If in cliches you would write.
A poem should be fresh, yes sharp -
You'll know when it's just right!
Do not post your poem here
Just to see yourself in print.
You're wasting others time you know
With such, self centred stints!
I wil not post my poem here,
This one does not exist,
But did I tell you at the start
That I'm a nihilist?
poem by Joe Hughes
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Although Every Penny From Them Is Squeezed
Money is no object,
When trillions of it is spent...
On worthless wars.
And dead end scientific projects.
But used to benefit its citizens...
Money then becomes an issue.
And not enough of it seems to be there,
To address human needs.
Although every penny from them is squeezed,
To solicit a fear that is fed and marketed to sell.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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I don't know their address where I have to post my sad letter
The month of November tells Goodbye very soon
And December comes with a snowy cap through my lonely dreams.
All my friends in the class get ready for the journey towards Christmas
And my class teacher asked my name again and again.
I said; 'Orphan'.
My Mom and Dad write me not very often
And they address me by that strange name.
I don't know their address where I have to post my sad letter.
Once they mentioned in a short letter both of them stay in a boarding house named 'Prison'.
'Please try to be a good boy and never think of this lousy place ever.'
* The roads are for cars and not for people........................
-Long Beach Rescue Mission for the Homeless-
I humbly dedicate this poem to 'get on the bus' Restorative Justice Works
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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I have gone on the air and announced my telephone number at the Washington Post. I go into the night, talking to people, looking for things. The great dreaded thing every reporter lives with is what you don't know. The source you didn't go to. The phone call you didn't return.
quote by Bob Woodward
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Keep me posted
My platonic love,
Your post-date letter
Better address to Poste Restante
I am your skinny poor Postman
Never stay in one place
And I lied you,
I am not a Postmaster.
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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a tribute to the Absurd
Happiness is a ballpoint pen
Happiness is irrelevant
Happiness is talk
Life is running out of ink
Life is waterfalls and irrelevance!
and Godot
Life is waiting
Life is post-modernism
Loneliness is too much
ink
is happiness it is falling water it is
irrelevant life is
unsensical but musical
abusical defensible
Someday I will write about relevance
someday someday someday
point: waterfalling ball___ pen = someday ink
someday ink is my lonely happy outness
We Cannot Save The Dead
WE CANNOT SAVE THE DEAD
We cannot save the dead,
Though we perfect our forms of remembrance-
The dead are the dead forever dead-
And we will too one day be among them
Dead forever dead-
Despite the way those left behind strive to remember.
Dead forever dead-
Unless God decide
In some way we cannot understand
That the individual human being
Is as infinitely precious
As those who love them here
know them to be.
-
poem by Shalom Freedman
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