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Kipling Predicted All of This

Rudyard Kipling understood precisely what we are going through today back in 1919. Consider this classic poem about what happens when we create institutions which attempt to divorce us from reality.
Copybook headings were mottos regarding simple truths in the margins of Britsh schoolbooks at the turn of the century which students were required to copy, while the marketplace referred to the latest fads of the day.
http://www.kipling.org.uk/poems_copybook.htm

The Gods of the Copybook Headings

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 burn,
The Gods of the Copybook Headings with terror and slaughter return!

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Replies to This Discussion

Permalink Reply by Dr Caroline Wright on August 7, 2012 at 7:37am

Well Matt ... All I can say is that your thinking at 2.49am is clear and precise. Roger's poem is indeed apt for today's situation. It is unusual to see predictions written in poetic prose.

Kind regards

Caroline

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Permalink Reply by Dr Caroline Wright on August 7, 2012 at 3:38pm

Please replace "Roger's" with "Rudyard's" above .... my bad. Too early rising today.

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Permalink Reply by Dr Caroline Wright on August 8, 2012 at 11:36pm

Hi Mat and thanks Beverley for the explanation. I thought it may have been a night shift or an oversea's trip ..... but now I know.

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Permalink Reply by Rory Donnellan on August 10, 2012 at 5:37pm

The red chook may still be clutching the cup, but it's a poisoned chalice.

Thank God the Blight is no longer plaguing Queensland.

Jan Courtney said:

What about this said to be from Nostradamus :

Daughter of the Dragon,
Transplanted by Sea,
Promised to lead a Nation,
Destined to ruin a Nation.

Hooded of Eye, and Red of Hair,
The Cunning Lady makes the snare,
The Cup is hers, and she holds it ever tight,
Her Subjects fall to Poverty and to Blight.