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Can Poetry save the World?

In Godard's film "Notre Musique," the palestinian poet Mahmoud Darwish contemplates on the role of poetry in social/political/national conflicts. His main example is Greece. He says he is looking for "the poet of Troy." He wonders if poetry is a tool or a symbol of power, i.e. whether the Greeks took Troy because of their poetic superiority, or if their poetic superiority was a symbol of their overall superiority.

What then is the role of poetry in contemporary conflict? Can it help ease the tension between nations? Can it give power to those who need it? Can we make poetry a part of our identities, and a tool for our progress? Or have we given that right only to our technology?

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    May 23 2011: I believe poetry is a tool. The messages it may convey can certainly change the world.
    • May 26 2011: talking about whether who can save the world itself is wrong. Because the world cannot be saved by anyone except the world itself. Never try to save the world because it is too far beyond the power of mankind. the world can only be saved by itself, by its own adjustment. when an adjustment occurs, mankind suffers. If mankind wants to suffer less, man must adjust their own behavior and ways of doing things.
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        May 27 2011: Hi Mengtao,

        There is something wise in what you say.

        Love loves. It is not stopped by the counsel of the probaility of impossibility.

        The world will adjust to the lack of human love.

        To suffer less, humankind must adjust itself to be a greater love.

        A poem about the needed adjustment:

        I am the Dream I am: a Tree that Bears the Golden Fruit

        A
        Dream
        That Truth’s
        Bud will bloom
        Again and again
        In you, and in me.
        I am responsible.
        Therefore I am.

        I am
        Most truly who I am
        When I am my better spirits,
        Whispering winds upon my neck,
        A wish to ride on winds of better spirits,
        Calling me out, again and again.
        My purpose has come.
        My lungs
        are filled,
        My voice,
        It is raised
        To sing of love.

        Real love. True love.
        The love that fits
        The Golden Rule,
        The discipline
        Designed
        By love
        To make
        Love real and true.

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