I dated two robots yesterdays
Both were programmed to service me well
We did things
In the same
good old  
learned order
of doing things
And after sunset
we kissed
at the beach
With one -
our feet touching
With the other -
our view inviting
the rush of salty waves
Alas
Both robots could suddenly
not speak
One even bluffed
he had a virus in throat
AI intelligence?!
jaa ha ha
The other was hanging just with
With variations of
what do you feels
Tell me your fantasy s
‘Don't think
tell me whatever comes first’ s

And
I believe
And
I say
But
Mine is what he can't understand
His’ is
I think a drink on the beach
But unfortunately I don't drink
Using coconut biotica only
These days
Ahhahhaa
...
While they chatted so well!
Without any error of a word to spell!
…

I dated two robots yesterday
That sighed only to say
I can't believe I am holding yous
How much I missed yous
Hugging robots
Vibrating robots
Robots with small mouth and twister tongue
Ready to penetrate into mine at a slightest chance of an opening
A disguised disgust of my sincere failure
not towards the robot but myself
Hiding you still under my palate
from where the soma of your love drips
Now as if forcefully been replaced
to a taste of this preprogrammed chatalike

Have they lost their voice because of my best dress
or maybe the fantasy of the sandy bikini
which they will never see
in the dark wherein
Both hiding their face
But I see
By my loose body parts
Maybe a lookalike
But I ain't no robot

Oh my sandy bikini
Oh Chosen so carefully
To rejuvenate their fantasy
a different pattern for each-
yes. I do take care of that!
Stays now
as an Everly Brothers’ dream
In my mind only

But
My ‘okey ‘ is an ensuring
‘yes yes’ the Indian way
Of course
They did their best
Seriously
Thus
A big CHAPEAU
For the zest
That obviously still can break china hearts
I took it as a test
To get to know me better
Let me be broken through your dream
Let me cry and shake and perceive an angry cloudy color world
let my remains of china burst

I dated two robots yesterdays
while expecting for a man
Thankfully though
these are yesterdays
Today I met a true man
A gypsy
We will date sometime
Play tabla and darbuka
Drink dance and sing
And sleep
To salute the sun
early in the morning
At the beach

I go on a trip to get a true
beating heart now
Like all the rest %of you
For all the rest of rest %
l shall pray to the divinity in you
like Swami Rama
I go on a trip to find out the la
part of my name
Being a part of someone’s
body-mind and heart
ain’t good enough for me
I gotta  irrevocably be
me me me
outta this painful duality
I gotta be free

So yeah I go on a trip now
hanging behind a sky blue
backpack
To embrace her thankfully
and unite us to the truth of us.

Thank you for your cautious courteousness
Thank you for sincere friendliness that  made me feel like a true girl at times  
And a puppet as such is jolly maybe and even pretty but a halfish heart
ain’t enough for me
No
ain’t enough for us

Thank you for your sisterhood and chivalry
For Such beau et bold souls I have sung for and through which I have become
I  go on a trip now dear all and won’t show up again
I go on a trip now dear all and won’t come back
I go on a trip now dear all to receive a heart of true like all of you
and for you and for us
I go on a trip now dear all cause I gotta be free
and free
cause we gotta be free
I go on a trip now dear all I am blessed by your good luck

He
whom I once met
along three cities
sends me
fleeting messages now
about suns and clouds
from a magic land

while
I am awash
in the passion
of a gargantuan orange ball
almost bouncing
the pungent shade
of my Nordic dream

our immovable dance
threads  the great canvas
of no thing
made of and by
our knowing  
the carrier of sound
stretches
by love
and plays
lights and shades
along the
ever changing curls
of a velvet universe

---

if there is two
it is not even at two separate
ends

but a base of being
for and of
each other

we cannot say that
for each one of the two
there is a sense of two

when one is not existential
without the other
then the other is not the other
but the way for the one to be  

selflessly

then one sees one
then one knows one

Love

one love to one love
like a sheet of purple gaze

flows along
and permeates
one another

it is the dance of grace

in between the two
lies the universe

for they balance
as ever distincts
the sparks of
the tale of things

ah pure love within itself knowing the other
ah pure love source of all divine dance

spans

the carrier of creator’s subtlety

the sign of all creation  
living on its own
– apart from its creator

we hear inside

---

silence of
the vacuum
omnipresent
as one sound
-but not a thing-
permanently
enlightening
nameless
it remains

*
in a wisdom
where
time cannot
be traveled
as long  as
time is defined
to create
time

They gave me a guitar
and asked:
what do you wanna do with it?

I said in ecstasy
I wanna be like that once baby faced old
man a street musician and travel the world
with the perishable fruits in my cap
Oh let these tingly breadcrumbs
pave us a miraculous path
where all folks stand tall and free

but
Art is Art
happens as is
Art
doesn't need
my-your-his-her-our-their
words
Are you awake yet
oh my favorite poet?

I can feel your pulse -if I want to
and you may know if you wonder
but it is no wonder
and You be sure You
I identify not by I
and for good
remain so
in the unchanging
purification of my time
observe
you -s
from everywhere

thou art a neutral witness
of such wireframes
embodied by the
conditionings
of temporal
identities
full of blind
desires so
I fast
on mandarins

it is no punishment
neither a fruitless training
but a method
of eloquent technology
blah blah

yeah
something brainy
in short
about our humanity

1-what it means being human
2-what it means to be
3-what it means not to be eligible
to be controlled by nature
as animals
because we are humans

and Not! what it means to be innocent as animals once we are
controlled by nature -because we are not animals

yes and only when you are free
you can play joyfully
with all pronouns
that instrument
called mind
becomes your
blissful tool
for making
Art
just

I said
and
they
they
they
broke my
guitar

Recycled now
thankfully
to a new
instrument
branded
as
Thou Art Art
available
to all
for free

before they made it public
they created the technology
to create living puppets
producing a tapestry of thoughts
manifesting
through the filter
of authentic bodies
and minds

their enchanting color of
implemented poison

they had two versions of the site
one the true one and one the public one

the true one was
showing the nature of a mind
in a spherical wireframe
3-d
projected space

that could make the motives
of a mind truly observable
using this hi-tech breakthrough
(hi-tech for their time only
i.e  their hi-techness is still
bound to time)
to/by/for those
word loving
businesspeople
and hired scientists
and hired technologists
and hired creatives
and hired psychics
and hired you name a profession I will say yes es  
of their time
working for them
for an almost literally ground breaking technology

a time bound technology that showed them an observable truth of the visualized data
a design driven and poached from the participants’ ingenious minds

the public version on the other hand
looked naively innocent
with an amateurish design
using a ready to go script
presenting an acceptable ‘good site’
based on personal motives
of hard working profiles
of young idealist sisters and bros
you know
like teddies pathetically hugging each other all the time

in reality though
snail shells were being used to implement
new poisons for the game
on unshelled ones
poisson as is French
would be prettier term
to describe
an honest organic fish farm
but alas

yet in reality that hugging was distant jutting

to purposefully run a game that entertained
pockets of those who had it boringly full only
to spend it for their own fun
but which they vowed as
for the salvation of their Utopian land made of the
illusion of their materialistic psyche same as their popcorns
which  continually justified as they  repeatedly asserted
these well learned set of words
on communal and cyclic ceremonies

oh my!
stealing intellects as such!
for the game!
game also runs in a closed circuit just
so no one can see it
they have all passed the Turing test
for the game
cool right
and it works

so who on earth could judge its’ ethics
once a reflection of their own minds
even unknowingly the game admins
once falling in love
with unshelled ones
may turn to the unshelled ones
like the prince falling for a Lorelei
they were warned continually
and then still some
willingly stayed so
in love
and disappeared in the game
loosing their body

well whatever
there is a place though
don’t believe me because I say there is
go find it yourself

from that place
the headquarters of this game
is nudely visible
with all of its partaking pawns
because it remains too low a place in the universe

yes there is a mountain higher
where lives
the inhabitants of the residence of the destroyer
who are a little bit bored by now and since some time already
and so the destroyer -they think- may as well decide to
wipe it off - hiring a well fit dragon that can gobble it all in one go
so that dragon excretion may benefit a famine of sorts in the universe
eating that kinda stuff
****  yeack  ARG hhhh
(or Namaste!)
:)

"Don't pop yet!
We all know who you are!"

said the blue balloon to the red balloon
as they elevated by their nobility
to embrace clouds.

that blond girl
with long long hair
is a color
of delightful luminosity
glaring
by a precise
poetic sensuality
of the tongue
tapping the palate
hitting the right note
concurrently
manifesting a tone
an equivalence of a smile
in all worlds

She –
made of lustrous transparent rose skin
is a goddess of temptation
the curling ice queen
on a museum floor
manifesting ****** to
not believing eyes
once dressed up
in tightly packed dark clothing
unfitting to the straight torso

jutting out the shine of
her far away alluring looks
the porter of ancient nordic landscapes is her eyes
which you’d choiceless fly through

She – the divine breeze made to softly aerate
angelic locks –
innocence of youthful dreams
joy may you call her laughter -unheard – freezing time
rebuilding traces of an unlived dream

She is here today

to harmonize the thought chords
attuned by the subtle passage
made of blurry sets of colors and lines
flowing at a readable rate  
along the dark November backgrounds
of an intoxicated Sunday morning

Red is still red in the neon
as if too early to be awake
clock hitting the afternoon
wall of fame signs rolling lonely
to haunt ghosts of yesterday nights
which have never come alive until they got brighter than the stars

Dark that shall make the silhouettes forget and reanimate
the never starting and neverending play of zombies
looking for a pure soul

always somewhere else
failing to find one

Flashes of illusion swept by the persistent horns

to be replaced in their place
not as divinity
but as an administrative layer of impurity
All replaceable at once
while everyday stays the same
while everyday they think is different
except for the old man

the old man doesn’t think
wearing a cap
sits there outside
at the most invisible corner of an old theater café

He sees everything he has three eyes
He hears everything he has three ears
He reads everything always the same newspaper
turning the pages in the same tempo of this chimerical dream

I am being observed I know
while writing beside him
and he says silently :
I don’t wanna read yours
but I can read you
if i want to
and he attempts to go
many many times

while I write I wish him stay
as if keeping an admirer beside my words
an anonymous faceless friend
and I speed up as I walk fast with my pen I fly
and he gravitates back to his chair again
restlessly

I want to finish this up quickly and walk away at once without even looking at him not even once
that’s the perfect scenario I think mixing up a reality to a dream
considering the urgent importance of this line makes me immerse and see nothing other than the self  but alas the traffic lights turn to green

and She – the profile of my beauty queen
holding a beaker to go
raises her head dancingly
arcs the neck
and in slow motion
throws a laughter to the air
whose weight should be a blissful wiege
for my loving looks –
made of a shape of a missing
of what I could have never been
– halving her pink coat in well fitting blue to her jeans

and she steps forward to fade away
leaving me chained to the glorious gravity
of this untouchable dream

on this invisible island of mirrors
which neither she nor anybody else has ever seen
but me

hopelessly sculpting now
a reflection of an illusion
made real
through the weight of these words
me is  a sad melody
of an autumn leaf
falling for her dream