New Civilization News - Category: Ideas, Creativity    
 The Phoenix and the Dragon3 comments
picture 23 Apr 2007 @ 06:39, by skookum. Ideas, Creativity
as they are the yin and yang of Asian tradition...  More >

 Poem: Between2 comments
picture 15 Apr 2007 @ 06:54, by skookum. Ideas, Creativity
betwixt and between?

we are not alone .. perhaps?  More >

 the sun has come out
picture6 Apr 2007 @ 06:15, by tochtli. Ideas, Creativity
sittin' at the park. i sigh, feeling the warm grass on my butt. i feel mother gaia's energy strongly vibrating, mingling in perfect rhythm with my root chakra's dance. i look up and spontaneously smile at Father Sun who kisses my skin with his light. this is a day of abundant beauty..  More >

 The Only Answer To Organized Money Is Organized People48 comments
picture25 Mar 2007 @ 10:15, by jazzolog. Ideas, Creativity
Painting of Bill Moyers by Robert Shetterly

Thomas Jefferson said the only justification for mandatory public education is to teach children their rights, and how to defend those rights. We need lots and lots of us addressing students of all ages, to let them know their rights, and that we’re sorry we’re handing over the mess the country and the world is in.

---christie svane

You can’t lay bricks on top of a crumbling system. It must be torn down first. If the system had been healthy to begin with, we would never have come to where we find ourselves now. I strongly disagree with most American’s premise of what they think America stands for. It never was all it was cracked up to be. It must be made better if it is to rise from the ashes of tyranny. I doubt Americans have the grit for the work that must be done to re-invent America in the image of truth.


like so many others i have wanted more than anything to make a real and true picture of our beautiful world
and for its own sake but not its own sake alone

i confess right here that ive wanted to correct or possibly infect the mind of whoever crossed paths with my poem
i mean i look around these days - all days really

its easy to see the cars on the freeway and the shopping malls spread under the rise of the moon and feel doomed.
anything else is a sucker punch.

anything else is a refusal to see, ive said, and more than once, and meant it, and do - even right now - do you see?


The sayings that introduce this post are comments at in reply to a talk given at Occidental College last month by Bill Moyers. At the moment there are 35 such comments since Thursday when CommonDreams put up the speech. Rarely have I seen Internet folk so thoughtful and inspired. Mr. Moyers has given a lot of addresses around the country since he retired from his weekly program on Public Broadcasting, and they all are worth seeking out urgently. Many people are so moved they call upon him to run for President...but he won't. He believes in his work as fearless spokesperson for a Free Press, and it is as journalist that he delivers A Time For Anger, A Call To Action. As in the time of Tom Paine, here are words to be published and posted at every site, to be handed from person to person. It is time again for Americans to shake off our lethargy, our complacency, our hopelessness. Here Bill Moyers helps us with that work.  More >

 Eternity5 comments
picture16 Aug 2006 @ 23:23, by poetsong. Ideas, Creativity
We are not taught to question, "why?" We are taught to stop asking questions so that our exasperated parents can finish fixing lunch. "Will you stop asking so many along and play with your toys!"

"Why?" is in our hearts at birth, and whenever we slow down, "Why?" creeps back into our minds.

Some people are afraid of "Why?" They run from it and try to stamp it out, fearing they won't like the answer. However, if this question was stamped on our hearts, I believe it is like a treasure that calls to our spirit, "Come and find me...I am here!"

N Marion  More >

 Poetry Collection for the World Poets Society1 comment
22 Jul 2006 @ 16:34, by poetsong. Ideas, Creativity

In your shadow

He grew into a shade tree set by a beautiful hill. His limbs filled with flittering birds and squirrels nested in his trunk. A giver of life was he until the hill grew ever bigger, exploding into a mountain. His thoughts grew less important as her needs and agendas enlarged, eclipsing his own. He became small, a withered seedling that finally crumpled and crawled back into the earth to remain unseen.


Awakened from fertile womb, you both crawled into my life. Before you walked, I slipped into your rooms at night to listen to you breathe, pressing my ear to your hearts, saying a swift prayer. Your perpetual-motion-bodies stilled by exhaustion, I could finally hold you and whisper my dreams in your ears.

You both sprouted wheels for legs and wings for imaginations, zooming in and out of the forests to climb, find, and build your precious forts. From a nearby hill I looked down on your play, listening to your banter, forever watchful for your safety. I enjoyed the madness of your youthful bounding.

Then your friends grew up and got cars, whisking you away to this or that magical place, exploring the world with renewed wonderment. I watched from the window curtain, curious if this or that young woman would be “the one”. Your mother and I would laugh, wondering who would gather at the Thanksgiving table.

Soon your diapers turned to diplomas, and you both walked the isles to receive your licenses to work, to become adults, and you disappeared without warning. I miss you both, but I’ve got a workroom now.

Abiding in Stale Air

Exhaust fumes, sweltering heat cause asthmatics to gasp for air. Fragrant flowers are gone, replaced by many concrete overpasses, crumbling mortar, and rusting steel roadways lined with graffiti. Still a butterfly alights on a flowerpot by the intersection, seemingly content to be alive.


Disrespectful looks and terse commentaries crush these brittle bones. Wagging fingers swung by malicious gossipers pronounce my premature eulogy. Some days I lick my wounds and walk away. Other days I become a contentious beast that replies to their accusations with words of fury. Still, life goes on within and without; and the backyard still needs mowing.


If I pour out my life for you, will that elevate me in your sight or make me seem a pathetic fool, weak and stupid? If I lay down my body as your bridge to elevation, so that you can reach your pinnacle, will you respect me as being kind; or will you wonder if I’ve grown impotent, becoming a passé conversation piece? Love as I express it and as you see it may not align. Communication is the most difficult art; and I have no idea how to fashion my feelings into words and actions that translate. I can only try and hope my heart’s attempt will become an arrow that finds its target. Perhaps God alone sees and the rest of the world misunderstands me or thinks I’m a dimwitted loser. Or are they right and I’m wrong?  More >

 Don Ligón12 comments
picture 13 Jul 2006 @ 15:00, by monique. Ideas, Creativity
Hi everybody! I've got another poem in Spanish for you. Please feel free to translate it into English if you wish.
Here it goes:

Don Ligón

Cada vez que me sumerjo en ti
Caigo desnuda como una gota de agua
Vulnerable, rota, de una nube
Colgada en tu cielo.

Cada vez que me hundo en tus aguas
Veo neblina alrededor del mundo
Mi ojos detrás de un velo
Obscurecidos por la bruma de la lluvia
De tu mundo.

Con cada segundo, perdido, volando
La tierra se vuelve sol
Y el sol se vuelve luna
Nutrida por las semillas de tu locura.

Y allá en el horizonte
Se encuentran la luz y la tierra
El relámpago y el trueno
Detrás de un cerro, detrás de un monte.

Y allá crecen moras y bayas
Allá donde su junta la luz con la sombra
Donde el ruido de la lluvia
Deja enmudecidos mis oídos
Me pierdo en tu olor a papayas
Me derrumbo sobre tus ojos entumecidos.

Y con el paso del tiempo
Con cada nuevo nacimiento
De un lucero en el cielo
Despiertas en mi corazón
Protegido por mi razón mística
Suspendido en el hueco
Que vive dentro del alma fanática
Arrastrado por los cauces de mi sangre
Que fluye al zumbido de mi son sin eco.

Cada vez que me sumerjo en ti
Mi querido seductor
Mi amante Don Ligón
Regreso con el alma desbordada
Con mi fe embrujada
Con la boca seca y febril
Para renacer de nuevo.

Monica Korycinska  More >

 Sister, sister
picture13 Jul 2006 @ 04:34, by judih. Ideas, Creativity
A call to sisters (and brothers of heart) to unite, join hands, sing out to positive connections of hope.

Enough hatred in the world to sink a planet. Let's try another tune.  More >

 Rigs Thula 14 comments
7 Jul 2006 @ 17:20, by vaxen. Ideas, Creativity
So much for the 6 days war. Guess no one wants to remember. Ah, remember to forget. That's a good Wernickes command.

Hosea 4:6 "My people are destroyed for lack of knowledge."

What manifestation of ''Source (Ha MaQoR)" said that?
I mean the Hebrew word for that manifestation of Source
code is?

[link] can help you if you do not know.

Prize and Booty, Skull and Bones, Common Law, Maritime Law, Sea, Land... Commerce. I love it!

"Left Bank Books"- Seattle - Ever been there? I'm told it still stands. Old part of the New Civilization. Anyhow...

Just thought I'd check in with Unommono, Bat Dra-Kon and a few other Sagely forms that wander about these innocent looking halls looking to rent-snatch a body.

Low Key forever,
Thetans 13
Source of
All.  More >

 The United Nations Of Poetry3 comments
picture7 Jul 2006 @ 12:24, by jazzolog. Ideas, Creativity
Let's have a merry journey, and shout about how light is good and dark is not. What we should do is not FUTURE ourselves so much. We should NOW ourselves more. "NOW thyself" is more important than "KNOW thyself." Reason is what tells us to ignore the present and live in the future. So all we do is make plans. We think that somewhere there are going to be green pastures. It's crazy. Heaven is nothing but a grand, monumental instance of the future. Listen, NOW is good. NOW is wonderful.

---Mel Brooks

The cloud is free only
to go with the wind.

The rain is free
only when falling.

---Wendell Berry

A monk asked Chao-Chou: "What is zazen?"
Choa-Chou replied: "It is non-zazen."
The bewildered monk said: "How can zazen be non-zazen?"
"It's alive!" was Chao-Chou's reply.

---Zen mondo

The author attempts to capture the poet at CAV in Providence, July 1st.

John Tagliabue, the late poet, spoke of The United Nations of Poetry. He created the term sometime in the early 1960s. I don't think he ever wrote a poem about it...or defined exactly what it was. It didn't seem to have an organization or charter or official members. Occasionally, in the early days of its non-existence, he said certain events or readings were sponsored by or part of the activities of The United Nations of Poetry. As the years went by, and there were more poems about "current events" turning up, he mentioned The United Nations of Poetry more and more. Many of us students and friends presumed, I guess, we were members of it...though John never said we were, and I know of nobody who ever asked for a meeting, Maybe I'll learn there were meetings somewhere. There was one on July 1st, however, in Providence, Rhode Island.  More >

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