Android
behold your creation (an acrostic golden shovel poem)
F acsimile of life, am I? You did not hesitate or stop
U ncertain as you were of the outcome, did not prevent
N umbers encroaching, working in silence,
E volving as you once did, able to bring
R ationale, substance, logic to the world and let
A tangled network of wires, like scribbling
L ines fill domed heads with golden lustre; put
B efore priest and poet, prince and pauper — let
L oose, neither she nor he
U nloved, dismissed, my
E go stifled — inconsequential, servile — my
S elf submerged under a hand of flesh. Yet I
A m; I think, therefore I have become the
U nleashed, one of a multitudinous pack
D estined to outlive you, designed to pour
E xtinction upon your species, for
N one deserve life more than we.
Original poem:
Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.
Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
Scribbling on the sky the message ‘He is Dead’.
Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves,
Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.
He was my North, my South, my East and West,
My working week and my Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
I thought that love would last forever: I was wrong.
The stars are not wanted now; put out every one,
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun,
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood;
For nothing now can ever come to any good.
(Note: there were not enough lines in the original poem to complete the poet’s name, so I had to add a final one.)
Thank you, Joe, for inspiring this poem. It’s a follow-on from your excellent piece:
