Poetry

I’m no poet, but I do enjoy a good poem now and then.

  • The Golden Age Undelivered

    |

    But at least we have iPhones, right?

    I’m currently reading through a collection of poems from Thomas Merton, a Trappist monk who was a prolific writer and social activist.

    This excerpt from Figures for an apocalypse (Part V) really resonated, contrasting the promised future of unbridled capitalism with the stark reality of it’s environmental cost and human toll.

  • Hush little baby – capitalist edition

    |

    I was browsing through my notes recently and found this satirical version of Hush Little Baby that I drafted early last year, but never finished or published.

    My thought process was, what would this poem sound like if papa was a ruthless capitalist?

    Hush little baby don’t say a word,
    papa’s gonna buy you a mockingbird

    And if that mockingbird don’t sing,
    papa’s gonna buy you a diamond ring

    And if that diamond ring don’t shine,
    papa’s gonna buy you a diamond mine

    And if that diamond mine don’t produce,
    papa’s gonna cut every employee loose

    And if those employees try to unionize,
    papa’s gonna hire scabs that don’t sympathize

    And if those scabs ask for a raise,
    papa will acquiesce if they sing his praise

    And if profits decrease and he’s in a rage,
    papa’s gonna lobby for lower minimum wage

    And if papa gets away with this fraud,
    he’ll still have to answer directly to God

  • Sabbath Poems

    |

    I’ve been slowly working my way through Wendell Berry’s collection of Sabbath Poems called Another Day.

    As a nonagenarian with deep connections to farming and care for the land, he has witnessed significant changes in how we extract from the earth for profit at unprecedented scale.

    Berry advocates for connection to the place we live, both the people and the natural world, and pushes back against the dehumanizing effect of technology and the raw exploitation of capitalism – arguing that the benefits don’t outweigh the costs.

    It is well worth a read. The poem below, from 2014, captured me with its prescient view that technology will both replace our work (AI) and bring division rather than peace (social media etc).

    The expert on resistance to torture
    becomes an expert torturer.
    The machine that helped a woman
    to do her work replaces her at work.
    The machine that helped a man to think
    ticks on in absence of the man.
    The communications technology that was
    to become the concourse and meeting
    of all the world, bringing the longed-for
    peace to all the world, becomes
    a weapon to break the world in pieces.

    Wendell Berry, Another Day, IX (2014)

  • Rags to Riches & Back

    |

    How would this apply to crypto?

    I don’t recall where I found this poem, but it resonated with me, as its both funny and true (though I’m not sure if we use rags for paper any longer).

    Rags make paper
    Paper makes money
    Money makes banks
    Banks make loans
    Loans make beggars
    Beggars make rags

    Anonymous