The Ghost Machine

Poem By Paul Hartal

Wittgenstein took a sip from his tea.

"You're wrong Descartes, I can tell you,

because body and mind are one".

"Wittgenstein is right", seconded Ryle.

He looked very angry

and shook his head as he continued:

"In claiming that your thoughts are separated

from your body you created a dogma

of the ghost in the machine."

"Gentlemen", Descartes said, "relax.

Where were you when I talked about these things?

You were not even born then".

"Wait a minute", said Bohm. "You're all wrong."

"What? " snapped out Ryle.

"You heard it correctly. You're all wrong", insisted Bohm.

"You have to explain", Wittgenstein said.

Descartes looked to be perplexed.

"Well", explained Bohm,

"since everything in the universe is information,

the existence of matter is nothing but a myth.

The universe is an enormous thought, a giant computer.

It is the machine, which is the ghost."

Comments about The Ghost Machine

There is no comment submitted by members.

Rating Card

5 out of 5
0 total ratings

Other poems of HARTAL

Acrylic Sight

"The surgery is a short and quite a painless procedure",
the opthalmologist said. "We apply highly precise laser
technology. You will be out of the clinic in less than an

Oranges And Grapes

Oranges and grapes refuse to grow in the cold.
Today I sing and dance, refuse to grow old.
Yet all the same, time is tyrant and ruthless,
Unfolds my wrinkling years, it is relentless.

The Illogical Birth Of Morning

The evening
is pregnant
with the night.

The Novice

Late night of every Monday
I immigrate into Tuesday.
But I cannot stop yonder.
So I move to Wednesday.

Democracy Vs. Dictatorship

The kangaroo ordered an orange juice.
The crocodile preferred a cup of coffee.
Holding the Party Paper, Edition Zoo,
The hyena opted for his downy dream,