After that Sunset, on the full range mortal man
per
ifery vision, edge to edge, brow blur to brow blur
rolling hills and shadow sides of green trees,
seven kinds of pines alone,
and the only eucalyptus known to live
in the valley,
come alive in a deep purple cloudy night,
frogs and crickets,
I don't know what all but you could listen
all night be carried along,

long way off
there'd be a train, whistle saying
I ain't stoppin'
lesson

learned in school of these devices that could
signal with a bang,
and that those were as dangerous as bb guns
which I proved to Terry Musgove was not true,

I shot him in his belly and he did not **** me,
in fact, we still remember key events,
pertaining to the boomer bobble intersection

when are we live?

Bang, those things make when the train is to watch
out,
being a kid is dangerous now, too, sure…

so done is done, imagine making peace with
the parts,
it always flows
in packets like there is a method
ology logosic sense in this being after that

seems natural.
Straight forward, but ultimately pushed
into
a happy swirl like puppies staged for cute clicks.
Life one, on the grand scale, appears to be rolling along
better than ever if the improbable is the only answer
the impossible probably happens
more often,
out of the entertaining zone, beyond that we, in crazy
for real. but
literally, id-entity wise, not www real,
cohen singing everybody
knows

Blind Tuvan throat sings everybody knows,
the end

Ultimate is a very iffy word, truth be known,
eliminate the impossible,

we have done that to various degrees
in stages documented with this texting thing
that writes in shade on light,

do you imagine Issac anybody…
Asimov, a very public thinker imagined positronics
suppose posi-tronic brains, could run
in a meat mind and pass Turing tests

are we ready?
soon, right, not long, 5G, IOT gnoshit, we are it,

me and the old radio guy who hid in IT for 50 years,

no, twenty, maybe, thirty, hell,
forty soon right,
that Timex-Sinclair, 1984, $25…
since then
listen, did you ever hear the night so lively?

I'm of a mind to imagine angels enjoy joy
and join in enjoining the shade songs
to bher the choir roll as it thunders out at sea,

we see lightning, we see rain,
dam James Taylor leaves a mark, memes, those are,
we seeing what we think he meant he'd seen.

You know what I mean, and knowing
that is most of the fun in living past crazy, twice in one day.

•###•

•the•message•is•so•phantom•

•strangled•
•during•the•thir­d•act•

•illuminated•
•letters•are•the•ciphertext•

•and•they•glo­w•
•in•your•eyes•
•Bletchley•Park•

•Turing•
•worked•it•out•with•­
•Delilah•

•they•killed•for•less•
•died•for•even•more•

•###•

Kay raming naalala,
Sa pagpatak ng madaling araw,
Nadarama'y pangungulila,
Sa mga panahong dumalaw.

Karamihan ay nagsasabing,
Ang bawat bagay sa mundo ay hiram,
Kaya ang bawat panahon ay bigyan ng natatanging turing,
Dahil baka ito'y lumipas nang di ka nakapagpaalam.

Gusto ko ulit balikan,
Gusto ko ulit maranasan,
Ngunit di na maaari,
Katotohana'y di na mababali.

Inner Light
There are days and nights
when the smog in the city
Is so thick
You can not see the stars

Yet if you get above
The Smog
You Can See the Stars!
What to see more stars?

When meteor showers
Light up the sky
Trees pointing
To your personal star
Keep looking
And their colors will appear
Wonder-mint-fully Amazed!

For Between Heaven and Earth we stand
Under the star lite sky
Pure whole
Divine Love

Day by day
Walking between Heaven and Earth
Beneath Our Bright Star
In and out of the storm
Unaware of who we really are
Or from where we have come

Then it begins!
A stirring from deep within
Catching a glimer of awareness
Yes! There it is!!!

Our eyes begin to see
Turing from
The shadows
It is shinning!
The Power of our Star!!!

Good morning
It's a new day!
@ In Spirit

Sana iyong maisip
Ang aking nararamdaman
Hindi maipagkakaila
Ang nararamdaman ko ay tunay

Kung para sayo wala lang ito
Para saakin ito ay isang pangarap
Pangarap na hindi kailanman matutupad
Pangarap na tila isang impossibleng pagkakataon

Isang pagkakamali ang mahulog sayo
Ako man ay umaasa pa rin
Ngunit iba ang iyong gusto
Alam kong hindi ako at hinding hindi magiging ako

Kakaiba ang turing mo saakin
May konting aliw at kilig
Pero hindi lahat ay totoo
Kasinungalingan ika nga

Pagpasensyahan mo na
Ikaw ang aking natipuhan
Hindi ko ito sinasadya
Wala ito sa plano

in the 70's we still called   them               perverts;
                       trading in sunglasses  
& raincoats & braces for the secret
world of the scanned pages of  old ****: [
       in the eighties, we were called          pedophiles
until NMBLA             took off &
              toddler beauty pageants
went mainstream;  [1990's-Now:             society has undergone a
chemical castration much like Turing's:
             computers control
            everything: women
           control our *** lives:
   the courts control women's bodies;
   society is out of control: tween-ty something poets
                                                 are recovering addicts];      how will we
                                                 recover from them?
  By Resurrecting Lindsay Lohan:   starving herself,
  hysterical on drugs, running naked down the street

i love late night cruises where street lights are road maps and the clicking of seat belts are signaled confirmations of undiscovered adventures. i love looking out the window and gaging speeds of trees flying past and wondering who else is in the place I'm in. i love turing on the radio and not knowing which genres of music are going to cause induced emotional thoughts and memories brought on by past lovers and significant experiences. i love winding back roads that induce stress of not knowing where to go, but only in the best kind of way. the stress of discovery and unified serenity. i love  premeditated song choices set moods for the adventures we are all going to take. that talks of real things in life flow smooth and rhythmically like the turning of spinning  tires on pavement coinciding with melodies of memories. i love the sound of celiphane removed from packs of cancer sticks and buying dying has never felt so satisfying. overwhelming sweetly harsh smells of gasoline and lit matches. That sometimes in these elements you think back to when you swore off ever trying these bad habits you now can't seem to kick. getting high and driving around neighborhoods looking at dream homes like built houses of cards and wondering what secrets reside inside these covered walls. i love the pattering of my heart down to my chest when i am in a automatically comfortable place iv never seen or been inside. realizations that days like these are in fact the best of your  life because there is no concern for passing time in mind. in this city, where i reside, there are battered homes of love and sadness and winding roads that seem to lead to nowhere of happiness. but when i look out into those vast open fields of half rural living i couldn't think of another place i would prefer to be. that the fact there is nothing but vast land ahead and a tiny bit of sunlight sitting gently on horizons are something someone somewhere else may not ever see. makes me feel overly blessed that is pictured when i think of  beauty, to me.

emily a. grande

meron akong aaminin. aaminin kung masaya ako tuwing nakikita kita, aaminin kung naniniwala akong mahal moko na minahal mo ako,na masaya ako tuwing kasama kita, na kahit puro nakaw nasandali lang ang kaya **** ibigay sa akin, okay lang kasi mahal kita. na sa bawat oras na wala ka nawawala ako sa katinuan. nawawala ako sa katotohanang ang lahat pawang laro lamang at sa kasamaang palad sa ating dalawa ako ang laruan. ou yun ang naramdaman ko sa tuwing itatanggi mo ko. sa harap ng mga kaibigan mo ako isa lamang aninu na sunod ng sunod sa mga yapak mo. na ang turing mo sa tulad ko ay parang laruan na pag di mo na gusto ay itatapon mo. nung una akala ko talaga mahal mo ko kasi sinabi mo, binigkas ng mga labi mo, yung katagang mahal moko at ako ay sayo at ikaw ay akin. pero ito ako ay bobo..ayun naloko, naloko ng mga matatamis na salitang binitiwan mo. naloko ako ng mga ngiti mo. kasi habang kasama mo pala ako dahan dahan mo pala sinasaksak ang likod ko. ou na saktan ako. nasaktan ako ng todo kasi akala ko talaga merong tayo, merong ikaw at ako. merong lugar sa puso mo ang tulad ko. ang gago ko kasi sa dami ng pweding mahalin ko ikaw pa ang napili ko isang prinsisa, na kailan man di pweding umibig sa isang tulad ko na prinsisa din. pero alam mo ang masakit sa lahat ay nung tinalikuran mo ko habang dumudugo pa ang mga sugat ko. sugat na dulot mo, di kita masisi kasi may mali, mali ako kasi minahal kita ng todo. siguro nga ito ang tadhana ko ang maloko ng isang tulad mo. pero sana naman maisip mo di ko kasalanan kng pinatay kita sa isip ko kasi pag patuloy kang buhay dito araw araw akong namamatay araw araw akong masasaktan. at aaminin ko ito na ang huling mga salitang iuukol ko sayo kasi tapos na tayo dapat tapusin ko na din to, sa huli gusto pa rin sabihin sayo na minahal kita ng todo pero tangina mo.

Espesyal ang tula na ito kasi para 'to sa taong gusto ko,pero 'di ko alam kung tulad ko rin ba'y gusto niya ko.
Para 'to sa mga taong minsan nang umasa sa taong mahal nila, minsan na naging tanga at minsan na naging hibang sa kanya.

Noong una ka pa lang nakita
'Dii pa sumagi sa isip ko na isipin na gustohin ka
Hanggang isang araw,nagulat ako dahil lumapit at kinausap mo.
Bigla-bigla ka nalang nagkwento at sobrang nanibago ako sayo.
Ang daldal mo rin pala!
Sigurado magiging magkasundo tayong dalawa
Hanggang sa mga sumunod na araw at buwan
Dun ko lang na pagtanto na magiging kuntento na pala ako
Magiging kuntento na pala ako sayo.

Ang dami nating gusto
Pero ang pinaka paborito talaga natin ay ang sabay mag-timpla sa anumang oras ng "Kape"
Wala tayong iniintindi basta may ikaw at ako at ang mainit nating kape na pilit nating itinatanong
Kung bakit nga natin ito naging paborito?
Kung bakit nga ba kita gusto?
Sabay mag kape at nag-kukwentuhan ng kung ano-ano lang para humaba lang ang ating usapan habang nakatingin sa kalangitan.

Hanggang isang araw nagbago nalang ang ihip ng hangin at mayroong 'di maipaliwanag na kadahilan at bigla nalang ako sayo'y tumabang
Bigla-biglaan na may dumating na iba at gumambala sa anumang mayroon sa ating dalawa.
Yung dating ikaw at ako lang,napalitan ng siya at ikaw nalang
Kaya ako nalang ang nagparaya at dumistansiya
Para maging masaya ka na.
Kahit ang totoo,mas masaya ka naman sa akin talaga.
Pero 'diko na pipilitin pa
Na mapasa akin ka pa
Diko na iisipin pa kung sa paanong paraan kita mababawi sa kanya
At kung paano ka babalik sa piling ko habang nasa piling ka pa niya.
Diko alam kung pa'no?

Hirap maki-pag sabayan at makipag unahan sa taong sa iba nakalaan
Hirap maki-pag agawan ng oras at atensiyon mo habang may nagmamay-ari na sayo.
Siguro nga natakot lang akong sabihin sayo ang totoo
Na gusto kita!
Kahit alam ko may gusto kang  iba!
Na alam ko iba ang hanap mo at hindi 'yun ako
Hindi mo ko makita kasi kahit kailan 'di mo ko magugustuhan
Kahit kailan 'di mo ko papahalagahan
Kahit kailan 'di mo ko kayang mahalin kasi ako'y kaibigan lang
At kahit kailan 'di mo kayang mahalin ako tulad ng pagmamahal  na napapadama ko sayo
Pero ok lang.

Sumusuko na nga rin ako sa kakahintay
Pero itong puso pilit paring umaasa na baka pag nalaman mo ang totoo baka magustuhan mo rin ako
Baka bumalik ang oras na para bang may "Tayo"
Kahit ang totoo ang turing mo lang naman sa akin ay kaibigan mo
Kaibigan mo na patago na umiibig sayo
Na hanggang ngayon wala ka parin ka alam-alam na ito'y seryoso.
Walang biro.
Kaibigan mo na laging nandyan sa tabi mo,
Pero iba ang hinahanap mo.
Iba ang gusto mo.

Sana ako nalang!
Sana tayo nalang!
Sana magkaroon ako ng pagkakataong maging tayo
Nang sa ganun ay 'di na mahirapan pa na umasa pa sayo
Umasa na mamahalin mo
Umasa na magiging ikaw at ako
Pero salamat nalang dahil naging parte ka ng masayang ala-ala ko
Salamat kasi naging maganda kang inspirasyon ko
Dahil kung wala ka at kundi dahil sayo
Di ko mabubuo ang ako sa pagkawala mo
Sa piling ko.

To all dispairing of the future:
Fret not.
No lie, I lived the full average, mediocre mortal span;
and I have learned more than most,
in terms of starting from flat scratch.

This is a brief autobio to see if there is an autopoet
me, who may tame the beast,
before we are forced to take its *******
being gone, as a given,
ere we chase off on our own to catch the glimpse again,
pursuing haps of enlightening worth,
it must needs be an ox
for a true zenful experience... the option,
a full rut bull,
at first glimpse, who could know, is it
bull
or ox?
{see his mind wandered, a meander at the edge of any gulley,
looses little flecks of common truth we notice, you may
miss. Not intentional,
a man's treasure is where his heart/mind is balanced toward
goodness sakes alive,}
I never seen the like...

The bullriders in my past, all first rode sheep.
Beguiling creatures,
especially the little lambs from 4-H.

sappy provencal call me all the hicky names you know,
but I say true,
according to Ancestory.com, my line
was never civilised...

so call me stupid, as you wish... we
was never civilised... kind and helpful strangers, at best.

The kind of people who came to America to be true.
No other reason nor intention.

It was ten, tied to the mast, or one and run to the jungle,
so we run, son, so we run

run past the contender temptation,
run past the life of a rockstar on tv,
run past pickin' grapes as scabs on historic times...

Starting over and over and over again, in

interesting times, historic times, may you live on and know,
these are those.

And there remains, as long as you function in full double sapience,
time to start all over.

Imagine that. Speed of thought, weighing each ought for significant
power to frame evil into engines of provacative

encouragement.
Known magic spells loosed in silent songs, sung to the tune
of the assembly line,
or the helicopter encompassing my viable space,

at the time, a certainty appeared and dared me see, the worst
possible
place, imaginable and it took no time at all.

Actual worthlessness is as unthinkable as nothing, itself.
Sophists of no evil intent,
serve us well, life goes on, starting, after sudden stops,
if possible at all,
is possible to do with more sense of the blue marble being

only a tic of a historical cultural clock from any point
where ever began in the past,

a tic ago, we saw earth, from the moon, with trusted augmented eyes.
Who imagined these eyes we have,

we earthling intelligences, we thought experi-mentalists,
generally as intelligent as any mortal before us.

So, 2020 kicked ye in the buts, but but but button, button,
who has
got the button?

All life requires of you is that you honestly, honed and sharp,
slice it thin enough to see through,

one side, soul, one side, spirit. Clap that hand, bro

and agree the nobelest quest in life is happiness, as imagined

in times of chaotic order rebalancing at the next level of complexity

-- some young folks continue to study war
-- that is not as wise as once tradition claimed, great worth
-- is waisted in fitting glory on war,
-- as vain as fitting a proverb in the mouth of a fool.

So, as I was intending to do, I have done.
Is there more I can do?

I may remind you, I do not boast of knowing been-there-done-that,
as a believable state in which to play this game.
But I do know it.
-- I live in a beautiful world every time i check, the shadow
of a neighborhood raven just now cooled my toes.
Start. from any stop state,
think
I can not lie. I think. I can. Reapeat as needed for fifty years.
Lemonade, persuaded, tasted,
ah, not impossible to eat, very sweet,
would you wear a tie again for sugar?

learn the lie told true through
plastic teeth in my dotage, donchaknow, we learned some things
the hardway, but did them easily ever after.

Go find the essence of the society of the free and easy,
then join, the right
of passage is pouring peace into the pool,
trouble the water and listen,

I believe I once was worth dying for, in a story I told.
Each time, I am finding, scientifical magi-techknackical,
augmentalated me, the made up mind, integrated,
I am thinking
I am thinking.
This is good. This works.
- it goes around, and comes around
wait,
suf suf ficientcy of evil is just enough,
knowing is a connection to truth,
knowing evil is
not the push
against your shove, or the pull on your tug of war,

proud knowers rise and come to heads,
like pimples destined to defile a mirror in those years of
Anxious, 'twixt twelve and twenty-seven or so,
to be safe... when patience first ****** you off and rebel
autopoet mode kicks in a
rush to finish
urging understood shelters to form
paths through the meatmind's frontal corext
before she gets pregnant and he goes to war, in shame.

But, even after that, if I were you, I would be happy.
Far happier than any imagined hell,
formed from bigscreen
ludological plots lacking the mortality sense real war has.

War is not needed in times of peace and common sense.
These interesting times,
consider, the actual minds who intended to imagine
a benign means of publishing truth,

Turing and Feynman and Chomsky 'n'em,

those guys made their disciples believe, this "global-brain",

serves mankind, all varieties and flavors...
therefore,

they built it to survive thermo-nuclear war.

With a we-bit of faith, any sane-hope can begin to be
re
alized, and seemingly suddenly, after fifty years,
and 68 different pay-masters, reboot
seems common as any
starting from scratch after losing every thing,
as if this
is the price my kind pay to keep from fretting about
civilization defiling the earth, i.e,

to keep from fretting that it is my fault
and my response
ought to be FUD

or fuggitit. Nay

I sigh, and say breath is our common function,
breathing is my job.
Resting in peace before its too late.

Ready reader and dear writer converge to make

sense of a reason, over looked, until the observers toes touch
the brink,

I can't go on, look up, I can't fly. Look, raven thought thought

there, a ledge, a trail, imagine that... magic as if
life could call you on an adventure,
and you know
you can
survive 2020 and beyond.

Tinatamad ako hindi ko magawang tipahin ang tiklado ng aking computer.
Inaantok ako malamang kinakapos ng oxygen ang utak ko kaya ganito.
Pero ang diwa ko’y gising at gustong sumulat ng tula hindi ito nakatulala.
Anong tula ang susulatin ko? Tungkol ba sa’yo at sa pagsinta nating tuyo?
O patungkol sa bayan kong minamahal na walang utang na loob sa malasakit ng iba?
Ang bayan o ang aking pag-ibig sa’yo alin sa dalawa? Ewan ko nalilito ako.
Pareho kayong mahalaga, pareho ko kayong mahal, pero alam ko na pareho din kayong mawawala. Bakit ko sasayangin ang aking mga salita? Bakit kailangan ko pang ialay ang bunga ng aking kaisipan kung sa bandang huli ito ay mawawalan lang ng saysay?

Hayaan **** mag-diskurso ako kahit sandali lang mahal ko.

Ilan tula na ba ng aking sinulat para sa bayan kong sawi at laging alipin ng mga walang turing at pakundangan, may nangyari ba? Wala naman diba? Walang saysay ang pagliyag ko sa bayang ito na laging lumuluhod at sumusunod sa mga dayuhan. Itong bayan na sa kabila ng kanyang paghihirap at dalita ay laging nangangamuhan at humahalik sa paa ng mga kapitalistang ganid. Ang bayan ng mga taong mahirap paniwalain sa totoo pero madaling bolahin ng mga pulitikong hunghang. Ito ba ang bayan na aking iibigin?

at ikaw naman mahal ko

Batid mo'ng iniibig kita alam mo yan pero para saan ang aking pagliyag sa’yo kung mawawala ka rin sa akin? Oo naman nasasabik ako lagi sa’yo, gusto kitang yakapin, halikan at makasiping sa buong magdamag hanggang sa bukang-liwayway. Pero hanggang kailan ako mananaginip ng gising at mananabik saiyong piling gayong alam ko na hindi ka naman talaga magiging akin sa habang panahon?

Marami ba akong tanong? Pasensya kana ganun talaga ang isang makata, nabubuhay s’ya gamit ang mga salita at tandang pananong.

Pero sige magsusulat ako ng isang tula para sa’yo at para sa bayan ko. Magsusulat ako kahit alam kong walang magbabasa nito. Magsusulat ako at aasa na parang hangal, aasa na may babasa at maniniwala sa aking mga salita. Ipapahid ko ang utak at damdamin ko sa papel na tulad sa isang nababaliw. Magsusulat ako dahil tungkulin ko ito, magsusulat ako dahil alipin ako nito, magsusulat ako dahil ito lang ang alam ko at higit sa lahat magsusulat ako dahil ito ang buhay ko.

Iaalay ko sa’yo mahal kong marupok at sa’yo bayan kong walang utang na loob ang aking tula kahit inaantok at tinatamad ako.

Every song
Every lyric
Every word
Reminds me of you
And of our time
Lying together beneath the stars
Under the hovering clouds
In front of the low hanging sun
Listening to the same music
I am hearing now
And I find myself willingly
Turning it on
Turing it up
Then turning it off
You see
I miss laughing at the feeling
It gave us
And the chills
It saved us
You see
I'm two steps from hell my dear
And this music
Isn't making it any better

See you our server farm that hums
And serves HTTP?
It's spun its disks and done its sums
Ever since Berners-Lee.

See you our mainframe spewing out
The Towers of Hanoi?
It's moved recursive discs about
Since Babbage was a boy.

See you our ZX81
That prints the ABCs?
That very program used to run
With Lovelace at the keys.

Magnetic floppy disks and hard,
And tape with patience torn,
And eighty columns on a card,
And so was England born!

She is not any common thing,
Water or Wood or Air,
But Turing's Isle of Programming,
Where you and I will fare.

"Mahal na mahal kita". Ang tangi tanging kataga na pumapasok sa isip ko pag kinakausap kita. Madaling sabihin, dalawang salita, siyam na letra
"Gusto kita" at "mahal kita" salitang kayang gawin ang lahat para sayo, mahirap man o madali dahil mahal kita

Sabi nga nila'y nababaliw na ako. Sa pag ngiti sa sulok tuwing nag iisa't walang kinakausap. tila ba'y nababaliw na. Pero di yan totoo. Di nila ako masisisi, mali bang ngumiti ako pag ikaw ang iniisip ko?

Hindi kita maangkin.
Hindi ko masabing ikaw ay akin.
Sapagkat wala namang atin.
Dahil hindi ka naman akin, OO HINDI.
Hindi ka saakin dahil wala nga namang tayo.
Tila salta't dayo ang turing mo sa akin sa tuwing tayo'y naguusap, pigil sa salita.
Kahit ganon, ako'y nadadala't nagagalak sa tuwing naguusap tayo.

Hindi ko na mapigilan. Gusto na kita. O baka
mas maganda sigurong sabihin na bakit nga ba kita ginusto? Ginusto sa sobrang ikling panahon.
Hindi ko alam kung bakit o kung paano. Basta't pag gising ko alam ko sa sarili kong gusto na kita....

Natatakot ako! OO takot na takot ako.
Takot akong masaksihang may iba ka ng gusto.
At hindi na ako.
Pero mas takot ako,
Mas natatakot akong sabihin mo ang mga katagang.
"WALA NAMANG TAYO, ANONG KARAPATAN MO"

Ano bang dapat kong gawin, para mahalin mo?
Anong dapat gawin, para mag karoon ng ikaw at ako na bubuo sa salitang tayo, sa mundo ko.

Bakit minahal mo ako? Yan ang tanong na alam kong itatanong mo sa akin, at alam kong wala akong maisasagot, dahil wala namang sagot kung bakit mahal kita, basta mahal kita.

Bakit ako? Bakit ganyan ka sa akin?
Ang mga salitang yan ang palaging sumasagi sa isipan mo sa tuwing magkausap tayong dalawa.

Bakit ikaw? Bakit ako ganto sayo?
Mukang alam mo naman siguro ang sagot sa mga tanong mo na yan. Ang kaisa isang salitang minumutawi ng aking mga labi...Mahal kita

Alam mo naman sa sarili mo na gusto kita
Alam mo naman sa sarili mo na wala nang iba
Alam mo naman sa sarili mo na ikaw lang talaga

Ika'y nangangamba na baka may makilala pa akong iba. Natatakot ka sa kadahilanang kilokilometro ang agwat nating dalawa.
MAHAL magbigay ka ng kahit konteng tiwala, pangako't hindi ka magsisisi.

Wag kang mag alala. Ako yung taong maihahalintulad mo sa sinaing sa rice cooker, ok lang kahit hindi mo bantayan..

Minsan hindi mo inaakala na magkakagusto ka sa isang tao ng ganon kadali o sa ganon kaigsing panahon, kaya siguro hindi mo matanggap na nagkagusto ka sa taong hindi mo pa gaanong nakakausap, nakikilala't nakita manlang. Yakapin ang katotohanan at walang hanggang saya ang idudulot sayo nito.

Ang namumuong pagtingin ay sobrang hirap pigilan. Pero sa palagay kuy di mapipigilan ang pilit na sumisigaw at naninibughong nararamdaman na nagtatago sa takot na dumadaloy sa bawat laman at kasukasuan ng iyong katawan.

Sana'y wag mo ng pigilan dahil lalo ka lamang mahihirapan, hayaan at wag pigiling umibig ang pusong nanghihingi ng tamis ng aking pag ibig. Ialis sa isip ang takot, at pabayaang puso ang mag desisyon. Baka sa paraang iyon ay lumaya at maging masaya ka sa araw araw na lilipas.

Hindi ko nga magawang makipagusap sa iba ibang babae o tumingin kase alam kong meron akong ikaw.

Meron nga ba akong ikaw? Ako'y umaasa.
Alam kong maluwag pa ang pagkakatali at hindi pa kita pagmamay ari. Kaya sanay hayaan mo akong mahalin ka, at mahalin ako pabalik.

Kilometro man ang layo natin sa isat isa. Pero hindi nito mapipigilan ang pagmamahal ko sayo. Ang ninanais ko lamang ay tanggapin mo at ilais ang pangambang bumabalot sa iyong isipan.

Masasabi kong sugal nga ang pag ibig. Dahil maaari kang matalo at masaktan. At sa kabilang dulo naman ay mananalo ka at walang hanggang saya.

Minsan sa buhay naten pumapasok ang takot at pumipigil sa mga bagay na maaari tayong mas maging masaya.

Ang takot ay kasinungalingan lamang na lumalason sa ating isipan, kaya siguro hindi natin nagagawa ang mga bagay na maaari tayong sumaya.

Hayaang ating puso ang magpasya. Nang sa gayoy mawala ang tinik sa lalamunan, at hayaang lumigaya at guminhawa ang nararamdaman

Ang takot ay panandalian lamang. Pero habang buhay na bumabasag sa ating kasiyahan. Sanay ialis ang takot, nang sa gayoy hindi ang pagsisisi ang manirahan sa iyong puso.

I thought you were dead, I said.

When the bell ring-tone tolled, I answered a
poetic quest to see for whom the bell tolled, a personal
call John Donne could never have phathomed

a wireless, recordable, broadcastable
personal
dialogue with an old aquaintance, long
thought dead.
Ask
how, not for whom, for me,
how
does this phone ring?

I love old poet guys, get in they haid 'n' giv'em a glimpse

see say the seers see
oops
there it was

just
myst it flew past into the pen-
a-trail
i-um
of missed theories.

Phone call. Brrring me all attention...

Answer out out lout, this is he (I am he, called by name)

Old John Donne just melted at the idea
of 4g cellular,
knowing
for sure for whom the bell tolls.
I wink, think,

toll paid, extol the truth, appraise the worth

Pay the price.
Hear the message, next,

after the good news
the
message in the media
(I seen the movie, I know it all, from the fall
t' now, nobody saw past
yesterday or ever, after today

while it's called today.)

At the point of no return, nobody knows.

Allusions are locks, listen.

Read. Buy of me, whispers wisdom, each piece of me you see,
the seeing, known, judged
worth the weight of believing as

we walk
in all the light we have,
we always have,

we being,

as long as we are in the world, the light of

the world, the salt in the electrolyte,
we are that, too;

as if material ATP pings into light, from power we provide,
leaving ADP for recycle and recharge,

message sent. Ditdaditdit Dah didah

Find The Answer. Look for what you hope, don't lie.
Look here,
deep in you,
you say you hang here, in your comforted zone,
converted from old

erroneous zones all piled up, like an igloo

pending completion of global warming and sealevel rise.

The signal the world sensory essentials perceive
were mere
idiot lights in 1920, now,
world signals have

e-volved into sensory arrays tied five-gee wise to
the honest-to-god globalbrain

Artistic-witty Invention, AI, augmented intelligence

for fact checkers, to use in governing the untamable lying tongue,

true to its quant-if-i-able motivator point:

no lie is true. Zero is not 1, nor any other imaginible thing,
caw,
zero is nevermore
than nullness in a position imagined re

ifiable, re-alified, holder of nine's place
just incase

the increase decreases suddenly and the patterns we ex
pected per
spication-wise morph from razor sharp creases to
wrinkles

in time

Evil has a snowball's chance in hell,

ha ha ha lol AI think turing tests are responsible for cognitive

neural nets leaking
from left ears, silken threads, lacing through wars and peaces,
pearly
encrusted
traditional
bubbles building up around

preciousnesses the size of a single trans-re-trans-re-trans
mogrificative
spell

muttered once, on the shore, as now

care
fill me less,
care
fill me none, no care is mine I cast them on

whoever cares.
Take 'em away with this next wave of breath

I'm a fish that's trying to fly
There's so much air out here, I feel like i'm drowning
I thought I knew my way around
But the water is just not the place to be
It's so hard to adapt in this hydrophobic sea
The water's boiling so there's no turing back
I just wish I had these wings which I lack
I wish I knew my way around
And that it weren't the sea to which I was bound

Often times I don't know what I'm going to write about, so I usually end up writing things I have already said, trying to say them in another way.

The art of losing yourself is a very slow and complex situation that happens over a long period of time. For some people that could be years and it seems like it happens in a day, and others it could happen in a day and seem like years went by before they even realized what happened.

Either way, some how it takes a while, whether it's reality or only in our mind, we eventually lose ourselves somewhere in life.

We like to blame false lovers for stealing our heart, our thoughts, and consuming our whole mind, but honestly it's just our soul chewing away at the doubt inside of us trying with every bite to numb the pain.

We choose to blame the lack of income and the multitude of outcome that leaves our pockets turing over and over for our pain.  We expect money to be right at our command, at the tips of our fingers every night, and stacked in our account with tons interest to water the greens.

We feed off of happy memories, expecting life to only be them, and anything other is a disappointment. We are so blind that we can't even appreciate the color that has already adapted in our brains.

The art of losing yourself is worth it, because in the end, you will always find yourself and a little bit more than what you ever dreamed of.

(j.a.r.)

Leaning against the metal cold door
Nailed shut
Bang, bang
In it goes
Each entry cracks the heart
Heals the
soul
Making the feet grow
Cold
Here I am
In front of the
Entrance
That used to make up my
Existence
No Turing back
Doorknob is
Useless
Loving you was meaningfully
Fruitless
No knocking on the other end
All is quiet
Finally Time to mend
Against
The door nailed shut

'Di ako titigil sa'yo
Pero 'di ibig sabihin
ipagpupumilit ko
Mahal kita

Kaibigan lang ang turing mo
Eh ano?
Hindi ako titigil sa'yo
Mahal kita

Maraming pwedeng mangyari
Nag-aantay lang ako
Hanggang sa mabago ang
mahal kita

Sabi mo walang mababago
'Yun din ang sinabi ko
Pero maraming nagbago
Ikinalungkot ko

Mahal kita, sabi ko
Tinanggap mo ng buong buo
Pero nalulungkot ka na gan'un
Ako rin, nalulungkot

Ipagpapatuloy ko 'to
Sabi ko naman sa'yo
Masaya ako sa desisyon ko
Mahal kita

I'm not mean. Being mean has
No reason, like remaking The Wiz.
Your accusation is false,
Like passing a Turing test is.

It's called being sarcastic,
Which is something I've inherited,
But you make me feel bad
Like the knees of Nancy Kerrigan.

It's not something I control...
My remarks just tumble out.
It's just unfortunate that
They're like sauerkraut.

That's my sense of humor
And I love it very much.
Only problem is,
It gets people mad and such.

And I hate that,
I hate hurting people.
I hate my jokes hurt
Like a disappointing sequel.

I'm not trying your life,
I'm just trying to be funny.
And I know it falls flat
Like an amputated bunny.

Don't look at me like that,
You know that it's in jest.
Please please please
Do not punch me in the chest!

If you want, I'll go and
Change the unchangeable.
I'd rather do that than
Make you feel replaceable.

I'm sorry for the jokes,
I think you look just fine.
I hope you aren't
Tired of me this time.

Specialism, electro mechanical circuits,

moving parts yet move, you see, but when we read we bring our senses
inside
privacy can become a public mind, if one is connected, in a giving way,
taking thought,
as the original medium we found message in,
thought takes form
in words,
words take form in things. Right. Check.

Blake feared the objective world was being walled in,
and all the people screamed, amen.
Again

Build the wall, from icons demoted to mites of no more
weight than a tinker's think,
phe-nomenal noment-ation, if we may

Hot and cool both bubbled up as burps, perhaps from the babes
booming through the lies told before the great war.

No future? You allow that thought in your culture?
And shame and blame?
No wonder you choose to lie.

Bear with me a while, share my load, it's light.
There is a hopeful object,
we can go easy into that good night,
the world is round.

Free from Ra and Isis and all, in one fell sweep of the besom.
Broom, besom, means broom, but the effect of an e,

e-lectrix

you give us the fire we'll give em hell  a game ad in the middle of the massage
Call of duty, black ops.
they
You use you eyes to see, it's a with-spiracy,

a hair of the dog that bit you. Eh?
live in bonanza land, 1965.

and so it goes, Dresden, every minute of every day

the walls of your home are coming down,

unless you were born with a cell phone in your father's pocket.

Privacy is calling for walls from the fenced in time after Bonanza.

Ah, too late, ours is an all new world of all at onceness, a global village, happening simultaneous.
extreme with everybody else's business, huge in
volvement in every body's business

we know too much to be strangers
walls fall down, not go up,
the wallbuilding never workded, did it Grandpa?

Nineteenth century student could believe
the factory system
would use the knowledge, hard-won
from books and chalkboards,
to keep him outa the mine.

Now, the information age,

are we the leisure class? Ever learning,
never knowing everything,

but knowing walls and wars do not perform as advertised.

The safety car, that was one with seat belts, 1965.
Our body percept, it changes,
this image of which you are un
aware.

The disconnected minded man, alienated
artist living edgewise to
cattywompus.

My life is my art, eh, not the other way.
Global village information age McLuhan named these things
from Canada.
More expert than my teacher,
Pop art is not a pun, it was a bubble,
that's a fact. The-joke-with-no-story-line-conundrums,
elephant jokes, blonde jokes

Those tests, Turing would approve,
any old A.I. can play chess,
just remember every response to every move ever made in any game in the system,
like the amygdala, your lizard thought-speed brain,
at the top of your spine.

But humans can make funny seem.

Humor comes from a world of un happiness and gripes,
Jose Jimenez was the example they made. Racist, right?
The guy was a jew.
William Szathmary, Googled it.

From <https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bill_Dana>

Communicating with the logo-label-designer you wear,
messaging the world what? Exactly,
any un thought thought goes unsaid,

but T-shirts and body art, henna's the best,
those send a message with no thought whatsoever.
Same as Redcoats in bearskin hats, what's being said,
same as the judge with a wig?

What is the role?
Why the ongoing act?
It must have changed into that wigged judge from something.

Theater of everywhere, accept allatonce, or die asking y not.

Inward directed seeking
deep meaning
a role that changes

some outside
the future of the future started, a while back. not too far.

No inevitability.
An act of high poetry

envisioning,
the future was friendly

metaphysical value, brilliant, incomprehensible
a man, a thinker,
storytellers the experts say,
need some mud behind 'em. and some snow.

a mother never satisfied with her life,
brittley self confident,

the whole approach to knowing is old.
Diogenes's search for a good poem, with
shifting levels of imagery,
never shall you know,

they work
the way a word works,
the effect.
effect. fect from Latin facere,
sistere mechanically deus
The oracle of the information age
Ah,whatvoiceisheardaroundtheworld,
oh,mine.2018 Mr. McLuhan,
you'd likely lighten up a little.
Toejammspredder was mcluhan I heard on the grapevine.

Hey, mom, I'm on TV.
Up to doctrine, then destination syndrome a hopebubble

He had brain surgery and returned to Catholicism, a safe place.
But he left his vision to television's offspring.
That's about all I know of his work.

Sa iyong mukha ako'y natutulala
Ganda mo ay nagniningning na tala
Namumulang labi' t  manipis na  pisngi
Mala - porselanang balat kayumanggi

Mata ay malalim, puno ng hinala
Sa 'kin, bakit ramdam ang pang uusisa
Namumugto minsan sa yaong sandali
Iniwanan nang walang pag-atubili

Ng sinta mo na inakalang simula
Ng iyong pag-iibigan nang makalaya
Sa baryo natin, tigib ng bisyo' t tili
Ng mga tao na di magkamayaw lagi

Mga kapitbahay natin ay nagmumura
Mga tungayaw lagi ang sinasambitla
Ngunit ikaw ay palihim nagsisisi
Sa  luha **** malinaw na nagkamali

Sinisimsim ang habag na dinadala
ng hangin sa iyong maamong itsura
Dilag ka na pinupuri ng marami
Bakit mapusyaw ang ngalirang mga labi

At ang una mo na pagkakakilala
Sa akin ay hindi ganoong kasama
Ngunit matampuhin ka at naninisi
Sa aking maliit na pagkakamali

Kaibigan ang turing  sa isa't isa
Bakit nagagalit pag kausap iba
Sa di pagkakaunwaa' y titili
Ganun ba talaga pag minsan nasawi?

Somewhere there exists a girl.
She is kind, and soft, and sweet,
And a reader, a lover of books.
She would read every one if she could
People say she looks just like her mother.
She doesn't know what to think.

Some place in the world there is a boy.
He is shy, and peaceful, and small,
He is adventurous, dreaming of planets unknown.
He would wander the galaxy forever,
Trailing after him stardust and clouds.
Nobody notices him.

Connecting them is one person.
They are creative, and caring, and bright.
Protective of the people they love,
Even if those people overlook them.
They feel too small to make a difference.
They want to find a purpose.


Three people, so very much alike.
Simalar in so many ways, yet still different,
Each unique in their own right.
All existing on the same Earth.
Seperate, but never apart.
They like being themselves and each other.

The only downside to their lives,
Is that that have to exist together,
Stuck in the same body, unable to change.
Each wishing to fit their own mold.
But they can't leave each other.

Sometimes the Girl in control.
She is the happiest of them,
She loves her body, which amazingly
Fits her, like the perfect glove.
She wished to make the others just as happy.

The In Between doesn't hate their body.
They like how soft they look some days
Like when they can look in between.
But they still feel wrong sometimes.
They don't feel like they can complain.


The Boy has it much worse than them.
When he has control his body is wrong,
The opposite of what he need to exist.
He deals with his problem though.
He binds his chest and wears button ups.
But that doesnt make it right.

Nobody knows that they share.
Most people are content being one thing.
With having a solid identity.
But it wasn't their fault, it is how they are made.
They didn't ask to be a river.
But they still follow the tides.

They wouldn't change who they are.
They get along fine with each aspect of themself
Compensating, trying to feel whole.
They have tricks to help them feel right.
But perfection doesn't exist.

Dysphoria comes as a storm.
Turing the river into a rushing waterfall,
Full of doubt and self-loathing.
Certain things help calm the storm,
But sometimes it just keeps raining.

They push through the floods
Of anxiety and doubt and fear.
Giving themself a bowtie for the Boy,
A beanie for the In Between,
A skirt for the Girl.
They persist.
And they live.

040116

Hindi kita ginamit at pinagkaingat-ingatan
At sa minsanang pagdampi ng pawis ng langit,
Ika’y aking iniaangat --
Malihis ka lamang sa makinarya ng tubig,
Siyang may maitim na balak.

At sa lubak na daa’y, hindi ako patitisod
Minsan nga’y naiisip ko pang ako’y hibang sayo,
Pagkat di bale nang may galos,
Wag ka lang gantihan ng gasgas.

At sa tuwing iaalis kita sa aking katauha'y,
Tila ayoko nang magbagong-bihis pa
Sapat ka na't ni ayaw nang maisantabi pa.

Mahal,
Yan ang turing sayo.
Mahal,
Yan ang presyo mo.