Deus Ex Machina
AI can:
diagnose disease
recommend treatment
write poetry
write music
make economic predictions
and much more
What happens when it:
can think on its own
hate
laugh
feel
cry
make war
sue for peace
reproduce
Will we still be in charge?
Or will it demand our worship?
Categories:
machina, god,
Form: Free verse
Like Job, I’ve known what is right and wrong,
And I try to take the view that is long.
Though I’m not perfect, I do fear God,
(Which, in modern times, does seem odd).
But what is God, I ask you now?
A burning bush? A sacred cow?
Or is God simply an advanced being,
Who seems all-knowing and all-seeing?
If God sees everything everywhere,
Am I important? Does He care?
Or is my lifeline a script I follow
In His program filled with joys and sorrows?
If so, are all my tribulations
Part of His computer simulations?
Though these thoughts make me weary,
They keep me guessing and God-fearing.
Categories:
machina, computer, faith, god, identity,
Form: Rhyme
grey will not do metallic's justice
as silver shows no tempting
no, tones will pale into all skins
corridor lengths of emptiness
seen within computed eyes
and nothing the machines do
can hold a grace in our hands
no metal can truly see art
steel ignorance of telling brush strokes
what evolution takes from our touch
these once bountiful gardens
once Eden
once Paradise
the flowers, such colour is lost
the us that defined us
make no mistake
they can kill in the shallows
they can work with no muscle
knowing no empathy
no mercy
they have only coldness
a brief of finality
leaving us behind in shameful mists
any last shred of will to resemble us
they are the future of our future
and we are them
and we, our death
Categories:
machina, destiny, fate, future, humanity,
Form: Free verse
this last step...
protruding veins under the skin,
the other imperfections
and these eyes,
from distance.
scaly is the word for it,
brittle skin.
it's not good,
evokes the relentless of time.
it is always destruction that rushes swiftly.
skin,
in this case ex-home.
the color looks gray,
but it is condition.
something that would be solemn in books,
but utterly brutal in reality,
because to the touch it conveys a sense of end.
just scales,
fur or feathers,
nothing flies,
when the emissaries of never arrive,
the last step is like a bird's
that without wings
crawls to survive.
Categories:
machina, farewell, time,
Form: Free verse
this last step,
the dead bird,
protruding veins under the skin,
now drying,
the other imperfections and these eyes,
from distance.
scaly is the word for skin, brittle.
not good, it evokes the relentless of time.
destruction...
is always what rushes down from heaven.
its color looks gray, but it's condition.
something that would be solemn in books,
the speed and fall of this kind of angels,
quite brutal in reality,
conveying a depressing sense of end.
just fur or feathers,
nothing on it flies,
the emissaries of never arrive,
the winged chariot that carries the defeated,
the last step is the bird that passed.
symptoms of our decay,
demigods that nothing can heal.
Categories:
machina, bird, death,
Form: Free verse
“deus ex machina”
When LOVE came knocking at our door
we stood there opposite sides
like torn pages
from the chapters of a banned book
with no spine
awaiting
collaboration
A common thread
our folded signatures are stitched together
and then joined with other signatures
to create the complete book
Enter the wings of fortune
Fortune that favours the brave
The Smyth Sewer smiled a whisper,
“deus ex machina, The Plot, so not a grave”
(Lovejoy-Burton/August, 2018)
"Baby" , Helena Deland
https://youtu.be/gcse4_5zALI
1. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Deus_ex_machina
2. smyth sewer
"Smyth sewing is a method of book binding where groups of folded pages (referred to as signatures) are stitched together using binder thread. Each folded signature is sewn together individually with multiple stiches and then joined with other signatures to create the complete book block. If you page through a Smyth-sewn book, you can see the thread stitches in the center fold of each signature."
Categories:
machina, art, courage, fun, imagery,
Form: Romanticism
god, made in mans illusion
our egocentric minds create
deities of grand delusion
or of demonizing enemies
up before we find our cause
totalitarian reign of gods
or democratic masochists
finding naught but disappointment
together bound somnambulists
heretical self rightousness
ever bring faithful relief
machinations or delusions
always shifting to belief
crusading fanatics, blindly follow
him with nothing more to gain
i have forsaken you
never to find faith again
every time we need a monster
Categories:
machina, depression, philosophy, religion
Form: Acrostic