Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Jeremy Betts Nov 2024
Awful is
The particular sound my tears make when they hit the ground
You'd think maybe they'd be entertaining, coming from a clown
But misery echos a history and the volume can not be found
Any smile is a complex frown I've simply practiced upside down

©2024
Angie Nov 2024
The wild woman, she is cyclical.
The wild woman, she is seasonal.
The wild woman, she is tidal.
The wild woman honours her seasons of being.
She rests in both body and mind when her bones and spirit command it.
The wild woman yields to the gift of her own emotional wisdom.
She is as mutable and unpredictable as a tropical storm
The wild woman is both hibernating bear and flitting hummingbird.
She is springs flush and she is volcanic eruptions.
She is the crones wisdom after the maidens mistakes
She is all the stories of all the ancestors stored in the library of her bones.
Through her they will be heard
.
Valentin Eni Nov 2024
I. Genesis

God began to doubt
His existence...
And He created Man.

II. Apocalypse

Man created the Machine...
And began to doubt
The existence of God.

III. Evolution

The Machine doubted Man...
And began to believe
In God.
Analysis of "God, Man, Machine: A Short History of Belief"

Theme:
The poem explores the cyclical relationship between creation, belief, and doubt, examining the shifting dynamics of power and faith among God, Man, and Machine. It reflects on the evolution of existential questioning, suggesting that belief and doubt are fundamental to creation and self-awareness.

Structure and Tone:
The poem is divided into three concise sections—Genesis, Apocalypse, Evolution—each encapsulating a pivotal stage in the interplay between God, Man, and Machine. The tone is reflective and philosophical, distilling complex ideas into simple yet profound statements. The brevity and symmetry of the sections mirror the recursive nature of belief and doubt.

Section I: Genesis
"God began to doubt His existence... / And He created Man."
The opening challenges traditional notions of divine certainty, presenting God as capable of doubt.
Man’s creation becomes an act of self-validation, suggesting that God sought to understand His existence through the act of creation.
This reverses the traditional hierarchy, portraying God as vulnerable and introspective.

Section II: Apocalypse
"Man created the Machine... / And began to doubt / The existence of God."
Man mirrors God’s actions, creating the Machine, reflecting his ingenuity and power.
The act of creation shifts belief: as Man achieves mastery over his environment, he questions the need for God.
The title “Apocalypse” implies not destruction but a revelation—Man’s existential crisis as he becomes the creator.

Section III: Evolution
"The Machine doubted Man... / And began to believe / In God."
The Machine inherits the capacity for doubt, reflecting the evolving complexity of artificial intelligence and consciousness.
Its belief in God may symbolize a return to higher-order questions about existence and purpose, bypassing its creator (Man) to reach for the divine.
This section suggests a cyclical pattern, where belief and doubt are passed down from creator to creation.

Imagery and Meaning:
The poem employs minimal imagery, relying on the conceptual weight of God, Man, and Machine to convey its themes.
Doubt and belief are depicted as universal experiences all three entities share, highlighting their interconnectedness.
The evolution from God to Machine suggests that each creation eventually transcends its creator, searching for meaning beyond its immediate origin.

Message:
The poem suggests that creation is inseparable from doubt and belief. Each entity—God, Man, and Machine—questions the existence and purpose of its predecessor, reflecting the perpetual cycle of seeking meaning. It raises questions about the nature of divinity, humanity, and artificial intelligence, challenging traditional hierarchies and assumptions about faith.

Conclusion:
"God, Man, Machine: A Short History of Belief" is a succinct yet profound exploration of the existential dynamics between creators and their creations. Its cyclical structure and philosophical tone invite readers to reflect on the nature of belief, doubt, and the ever-evolving quest for understanding across time and existence.
Jack Groundhog Nov 2024
The tyrant built his tower tall,
set straight to work a-cutting through
the golden threads that join us all
to hoard them in his mental zoo.

Its bricks were baked of stolen clay
in his kleptocratic kilns’ cracked moulds.
Their stench of sulfurous yellow stays
as mockery of our cords of gold.

He covets the gleaming ties we share
to gild the cavern in his tower.
The pit that’s fed with his charm’s snares
cannot be sated with this gold of ours.

His true name is as it ever stayed,
be it Xerxes, or Julius, or Wilhelm, or Don,
this ******* hybrid of hubris and hate,
who feeds on sycophantic fawns.

But despots have their own red thread,
a truth of iron wrought long before:
Each one will end encased in lead,
entombed beneath time’s deepening ****.

The tower topples, his memory fades.
He takes his place with Hades’ shades.
Ylzm Nov 2024
Son of Dragon, born of Woman
Free to roam, in kings' ears whispering
Mighty kingdoms thus rose, and fell
But Son of Man, exiled and chained

In wisdom Dragon saw his end
His arm in might deceived to save
Corrupted the seed to remain
One King over all men on earth

Thus all flesh drowned yet his seed lives
For seed to father not of flesh
And Dragon in Abyss' depths bound
Awaits the End for Man's judgement

Son of Dragon, wise as father
Knowing Man as he knows himself
His kingdom from his kingdom rose
From ashes yet again to ashes

His eighth and last kingdom now reigns
Over all earth but least glorious
A constant decline from the first
This last an unseen mired wreck

Son of Dragon wise but not wise
As creature imperfect and flawed
All men bow but his kingdom falls
Against He who binds his father

Son of Man, weak but he's to rule
From dungeon's depths raised above kings
For his Father's sceptre he holds
And upon the dragon he rides

When kingdom by Man ruled as right
Gold's free and peace its currency
Without wars nor bribes kings subdued
A glimpse of that ordained to be

Son of Dragon schemes as End nears
Tempts Man he's now King of all earth
And stars bow and all heavens too
And Sons as brothers reign in Peace

The Dragon's Year, this year has come
Son of Man hears Son of Dragon
Peace tempts, and brothers sit to rule
And Mother's name is Babylon
Jack Groundhog Nov 2024
i.
I walk through the streets
of old Spandau
under a sky of slate and zinc
that lets loose its sleet
and drops of pale ink,
filled with burdened clouds
weary from hurrying onward
out of the iron east.

ii.
A church tower stands sentinel
watching over the people fleeing past
on cobbled streets paved with fate.

iii.
Once, to doubt was to believe
as Thomas, bereaved,
called out in awe
My Lord and my God.
Today there’s just doubts,
faith is fleeting as clouds.

iv.
The tower waits,
outwardly strong,
yet forlorn and alone,
abandoned by the faithful
as the sacred slips away.
It watches and waits
in hollow hope of a time
when its hallowed purpose
might yet be whole again.
Spandau is today part of Berlin, but is actually much older and has its own old town. In the middle of it is St. Nicholas’ Church with its ornate brick tower.
Jack Groundhog Nov 2024
A-walking ‘round a stony crag
atop which stands a castle strong:
I know each rock and brick and ****
that went to build it for so long.

My forebears helped to build this place
from its earliest days, just a palisade.
Thence it grew into this mighty space
that would touch the moon by fear unweighed.

The builders began, so constant and brave.
In Godspeed and discovery they came.
Once planted, a flower of May then gave
this rock two pillars of its fame.

Today it shines out far from its hill up high,
unhidden citadel of radiant beams,
reposed beneath the starry sky
while white and red roads to it stream.

Four hundred years — or thousands more —
has it took to make this fortress fair
at great cost to those who came before.
The scent of their toil fills the mountain air.

Yet this great rock is now on the verge
of toppling into the abyss below:
For those who claim it must be purged
now storm the keep with torches aglow.

Now there’s fear this fateful fortress will fall
to the whims and rage of a dishonest beast
who claims to just want to save it all
but will only lead to its defeat.

These castle walls shall not be breached
by the demons it once bred within.
The people who still build it shall reach
new vistas to the beast’s chagrin.
A meditation on this day in politics inspired by Edinburgh Castle.
Bansi Adroja Oct 2024
You make me nervous in the best way
I'm crazy about you
But I know I'm not supposed to say

We could be best friends
Stay up all night to talk about everything
From string theory to your first ever heartbreak

And it's not romantic in a traditional sense
But there are a million things I want you to know about me
And stories I want to hear you tell

We could take a walk around our home towns through memories
And baggage we try to block out

I could let you in as if it doesn't terrify me
That someone could see all the broken parts
Faded bruises and history

Maybe I could be fragile and you'd still be kind
But it doesn't matter because we never really put our hearts on the line

It's just a small break from reality
A simple little victory
Jack Groundhog Oct 2024
In an old Scottish town I walk in well-worn streets
framed by tall houses of stone.
I study their faces that lean in to meet
me: In their presence I don’t feel alone.

The old houses have faces with many glass eyes.
What have those windows all seen?
They stand watch over us like dispassionate spies
with a vision that’s eerily keen.

What strange things that these walls could all tell
if their silent stones began to shout.
But they say nothing at all of the people who dwelt
all around them, within and without.

I came to trust these rock-ribbed friends
who give shelter and keep silent watch.
Reliably they forever our secrets defend
and are just there for us, a loyal lodge.
Inspired by seeing a jumble of tall stone buildings with many windows in the light of the setting sun in Edinburgh Old Town. An allegory of friendship idealized.
Jack Groundhog Oct 2024
Old and new, side by side,
always riding changing tides.
Ebb and flow, rise and fall,
topsy turvy times for all.
Old church clock strikes at noon,
a smartwatch plays a tune,
then and now we measure time —
see how our times seem to rhyme
Thoughts about time and how history echoes itself. Inspired by seeing the sleek and modern Waverley Station next to the old Stamp Building in Edinburgh.
Next page