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Post by Ivan Carswell on Feb 19, 2008 14:53:05 GMT -5
Surrounded by the paraphernalia of a mere two generations of technological change, seduced into believing the next instance will make even greater innovation commonplace – aware how the balance is weighted against anything more than a sedentary procession of the same pace.
Too easily wooed, assured it is not a race – just the inevitable taking place; casualties collect, are ritualistically swept from the crowed aisles of corporate abattoirs, simplistic displacement of failure fuelling insane desires for more power, greater speed and less exclusivity while greed burns hotter in the foundries forging less and less agreeable excuses.
There in the corner of my mind’s eye I see the debris, the carnage of this age, the corpses of despair and redundancies, carcases gutted of rare or precious metals, laid bare to ribs rotting a thousand years in dedicated mountains – symbols of our undebated insanity.
Here I see the old and the new side by side in this birthing room of ideas, this aperture thru’ which I commute between two states uneasily, seeing the brand new with objective clarity, seeing that no matter what the claims may be dust covers all equally... © 10 August 2007, I.D. Carswell
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Post by jimcrawford on Feb 20, 2008 1:06:22 GMT -5
I've been philo blogging all day, in between watching 'Children of Men'...seems appropriate that I should encounter this piece this evening. Resonates with my mood, I guess. It always comes back to dust, doesn't it? Great poem, Ivan...jim
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