Topic: An interesting poem

[Capt. Mike]

As I pass through my incarnations in every age and race,
I make my proper prostrations to the Gods of the Market Place.
Peering through reverent fingers I watch them flourish and fall,
And the Gods of the Copybook Headings, I notice, outlast them all.

We were living in trees when they met us. They showed us each in turn
That Water would certainly wet us, as Fire would certainly burn:
But we found them lacking in Uplift, Vision and Breadth of Mind,
So we left them to teach the Gorillas while we followed the March of Mankind.

We moved as the Spirit listed. They never altered their pace,
Being neither cloud nor wind-borne like the Gods of the Market Place;
But they always caught up with our progress, and presently word would come
That a tribe had been wiped off its icefield, or the lights had gone out in Rome.

With the Hopes that our World is built on they were utterly out of touch,
They denied that the Moon was Stilton; they denied she was even Dutch;
They denied that Wishes were Horses; they denied that a Pig had Wings;
So we worshipped the Gods of the Market Who promised these beautiful things.

When the Cambrian measures were forming, They promised perpetual peace.
They swore, if we gave them our weapons, that the wars of the tribes would cease.
But when we disarmed They sold us and delivered us bound to our foe,
And the Gods of the Copybook Headings said: "Stick to the Devil you know."

On the first Feminian Sandstones we were promised the Fuller Life
(Which started by loving our neighbour and ended by loving his wife)
Till our women had no more children and the men lost reason and faith,
And the Gods of the Copybook Headings said: "The Wages of Sin is Death."

In the Carboniferous Epoch we were promised abundance for all,
By robbing selected Peter to pay for collective Paul;
But, though we had plenty of money, there was nothing our money could buy,
And the Gods of the Copybook Headings said: "If you don't work you die."

Then the Gods of the Market tumbled, and their smooth-tongued wizards withdrew
And the hearts of the meanest were humbled and began to believe it was true
That All is not Gold that Glitters, and Two and Two make Four—
And the Gods of the Copybook Headings limped up to explain it once more.

     .     .     .     .     .     .     .     .     .     .     .     .     .     .     .     .     .     .

As it will be in the future, it was at the birth of Man—
There are only four things certain since Social Progress began:—
That the Dog returns to his Vomit and the Sow returns to her Mire,
And the burnt Fool's bandaged finger goes wabbling back to the Fire;

And that after this is accomplished, and the brave new world begins
When all men are paid for existing and no man must pay for his sins,
As surely as Water will wet us, as surely as Fire will bum,
The Gods of the Copybook Headings with terror and slaughter return!

 

 
Rudyard Kipling  1919


mike

[Sirgod]

Kipling was so Diverse in his writing.

From White man's Burden to the Jungle Book, had he not as a young man seen much of the world, I doubt he would be remembered for his works as fondly as he is today.

Stephen

[Bonk]

Interesting indeed. Reminds me of a number of things...:

Roger Waters - It's a Miracle:

[youtube=640,385]http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=duO0jNUYOg8[/youtube]

"By the grace of God Almighty
And the pressures of the marketplace
The human race has civilized itself
It's a miracle

We've got warehouses of butter
We've got oceans of wine
We've got famine when we need it
We've got designer crime"

The ending soars. He makes that guitar cry, it is a damn sweet sound. Follow it up with

Amused To Death

(if you can take it ).

"We watched the tragedy unfold
We did as we were told
We bought and sold
It was the greatest show on earth"


And just to lighten it up, but still on theme...:

Apeman

"In man's evolution he has created
The cities and the motor traffic rumble,
But give me half a chance and I'd be taking
Clothes and living in the jungle."

And

Gorilla, You're a Desperado

"I wish the ape a lot of success
I'm sorry my apartment's a mess
Most of all I'm sorry if I made you blue
I'm betting the gorilla will, too"

RIP Warren. RIP.

Social credit man. Social credit. Its time is now.

My initial impression of the poem is that the effort to "bury the dog" is not sufficient. It should be buried deeper. (Or right in your face like Rog) It's only half-buried. Like I'm qualified to critique Kipling. Well maybe I am...


P.S. Holy crap! Rog's 30th anniversary for The Wall tour is coming to Toronto in Sept. and Montreal in October! I will die if I miss that. I will just die.
http://tour.rogerwaters.com/

[Bonk]

On the first Feminian Sandstones we were promised the Fuller Life
(Which started by loving our neighbour and ended by loving his wife)
Till our women had no more children and the men lost reason and faith,
And the Gods of the Copybook Headings said: "The Wages of Sin is Death."

"Oooooo... Western Woman."

Kipling and Rog. What an odd Saturday afternoon combination. It is working for me.