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The Digital World

Three poems
Photo by Robynne Hu on Unsplash

The Fall

Stiff and steep, the fall of man
Bowing to mechanical might
Wrought calculation and schemata
Leveraged but to outsmart the light

Serpent’s lure is data-driven
Apple’s job, rotten to the core
The garden, rife with seduction
Lilith in every digital whore

Samael, the viper of mystery
Dangles death, the corners of the web
Tindalos waits within the numbers
Feasting till we decide this tide to ebb

Tools at Best

If you could sell your soul for one thing
The worth would be dubious no matter what
There is no art in artifice
Tubalcain cannot forget his ancestor

Our practical creations are tools at best
Serving Shekhinah glory, expression pure
But in idle hands are weapons at worst
Ends in themselves that we judge them to be

Souls are sold for the sake of de(con)struction
Self consumes self and demands even more
Daggers it wields turn on it before long
Once the opened void stares back, yawning forth

Death becomes you in matters of ego
Growth hacks, artificial realities, solipsistic routines
What we put ourselves through to optimize
May expose lack, that your purpose is still at large

Work to Do

From good to great is a step at a time
From nothing to good is the same
Honest effort
Simple strides
The painting of a picture old as sin and then some
The young used to get it
But isolation from peers
And parents subverted by propaganda
Mean life comes quick and easy
Expected success
Everyone wins when the Ponzi is fame
And craft matters not
Till suddenly it does and the culture dies
When the easy world comes crashing down
The boneyard that follows
Drowns all expectation in chill silence
And lightworkers are left to utter first,
“We have work to do.”