Machine Against Man

In the beginning, Jehovah created
Our earth, then man, the Bible stated.
All was peaceful and perfectly serene,
Then man decided to create the Machine.

Now the machine is the ugliest of all the beasts.
It came and disrupted the beautiful peace.
"To help and assist the imperfect man."
At least, so was the original plan.

Yet unlike the perfect creations of God,
Man's devices were crude and rather roughshod.
Made with pulleys and gears, the earliest kind,
Were for the slackened hand and lazy mind.

Then these mutated to what is known today,
As the Computerized World, and so they say,
These could better man's lot, his horizons expand.
At least, so was the original plan.

But they frustrated his calm and placid life.
Evoked much pain, annoyance and strife.
The irascible man's final condition
Was worst than the first, and this latest addition
Rendered him hopeless and emotionally distraught
"My original plan, what has happened?" he thought.

Gathered from this, I have been told
"You're cynical, mocking, satirically cold"
"Toward the convenient contrivance of modern man"
"Without which, of course, you'd do nothing grand."

Convenient contrivance I do not deny
Are valuable devices upon which most men rely.
The point though I make and try to reveal
Is these incredible devices are far from ideal.

Examine now please, as this drama unfolds
Of man and device at opposite poles.
And find if you can yourself in this scene:
The Ongoing Battle of Man and Machine.

It was a beautiful day and spring was here.
Fresh air to breath, the birds singing near.
The opportune time to accomplish some good
And accomplish a great deal was understood.
At least, so was the original plan
Of this confidant, positive, determined man.

He nears now his machine with power and poise
Anticipating a hum, the din of noise
That assures him he has the fullest control.
It's felt in his bones it surges his soul.

His dominance is seen at the power switch.
At only his command it's powered on, and which
Even the most obstinate machine would succumb,
Or else, remain inactively numb.

Soon though, he'll tire of this fatiguing bore
Controlling these beasts is a taxing chore.
And try as he might, try as he can,
Things never run smooth like initially planned.

Right now he is happy and smugly content
Of the progress he's making, so little time spent!
The machine's running smoothly, purring like a cat,
Oh, here comes his boss for just a short chat.

"Your success" says his elder "is wonderful to see."
"I'll finish the job, it's a guarantee."
"Come take a look and see what I've done."
"You'd be as proud of me as you would your own son."

And now he demonstrates to this one in command
What has been accomplished. He must understand
That with this machine the limits are none.
By nothing and no one can it out done.

Not only that, but in half the time.
"Your viewing" says he "production sublime."
All this he graphically explains
To his boss in charge who attentively remains.

But wait! It appears something's not right.
A problem, a snag, this is affright.
"It must be remedied, immediately I fear."
"I've never seen anything like it so queer."

"Just a little adjustment is all that is needed."
"Yet it continues to ignore the commands I've repeated."
The solution escapes him, evading his grasp.
"I'm so confused" he says in a desperate gasp.

The trouble remains and seems to persist.
He can't solve it, it fights him, apparently insists
On controlling itself, for that matter man
Who helplessly struggles to do what he can.

"The wire seems loose, there's a short somewhere."
"Open those windows, let in some air."
"Oh those birds are so noisy and the sun is so bright."
"And nothing at all seems to be running right."

Yes, machine, like its maker is imperfectly defective.
And though he may start with an excellent objective
The age old battle of machine against man
Means things never go as originally planned.

-Dave Terry 1981