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KCibot Jul 16
J Valle Nov 2015
Eve shared it and
Condemned human kind.

Newton felt it and
Changed the world's mind.

Snow White tasted it and
Proved love at first sight.

Turing used it and
Left the world behind.

That is how
I realized
It was me, who
Gave you the power
To change
Or ruin
My life.
Tommy Randell Jun 2017
Used to think the world was an Orange in a black bowl -
It was a time of innocence and creativity.
Time added more fruit to my metaphor, a pomegranate, a pear -
My best friend's funeral was an Aubergine.
“That's not a fruit,” I said. Not fair. I was wrong.

My family and friends came to feed me again and again -
Peaches, Nectarines, and Strawberry goodness. Figs of wisdom.
But time ran its seasons, and innocence changed its eyes.
The world became a single blue Marble-berry in a black night – Lonely.
“Nostalgia is the taste of Childhood in a thirsty Man.”

Fruits are masquerading as Vegetables everywhere
And again and again the Bananas just sit there, ripening.
I won't. I'd rather die. Yellow is a colour that lies behind the eyes.
Google feeds me now - monochrome smoothies of knowledge.
“I pass the Turing Test every day using only a brain-pan of porridge.”

Fruit is dead of terrorism and anarchy. The more we know
The more we see sweetness and colour for what it is -
That Child in me back then he didn't understand
How just eating the Apple is a one way path down a narrowing road.
“The future presses in on every side and you cannot go forward … “

“There is all this fruit, everywhere, and no-one to tell you what to do.”

Tommy Randell 04th June 2017
I'm adding this Postscript after being asked what this 'Poem about Fruit' is really about. Well, of course it's a Poem so it doesn't have to be about anything. I would hope you find your own responses. If you want it to be about something 'clever' then of course I can give you a 'clever' answer: It is about Politics, especially here in the UK this summer 2017!
Eisseya Roselle Oct 2018
Ilang taon ka na ring laman ng puso
ngunit napagtanto na tigilan na ito
naging prince charming na nga kita sa isip ko
at ayoko ng maging prinsesa mo.
kaya titigilan ko na ito.

Alam mo bang tayo lagi sa panaginip ko, sana ganon rin sa paggising.
Ngunit ang layo pala, ang layo palang maging tayo
kaya pipilitin kong kalimutan ang mukha mo
at di na aasa sayo
dahil sa una palang, kaibigan lang ang turing mo sakin
at ako naman tong si tanga, umaasa na mamahalin mo
at nilalagyan ng malisya lahat ng galaw mo
kaya sa huli, laging nasasaktan ang puso ko.
kaya titigilan ko na ito.
draft draft daraft
Ken Pepiton Jul 23
Weird day, and i mean that, in the meanest way

there appeared to be a war
in heaven
as it were

we were ex communicators, so we went onair.

some truble was stirred in an ancient closet,
where a little girl was lost

she believed
but she believed, you guest-it, a lie,
a visting imp intended to bend a little

to put a bit o' swing
in the thing,

turned out to be too slippery from the gitgo,
too slippery,

by far...

--- we got it. an implant broke. it's an old joke
--- an old silicon joke, cpus used to run 'em for turing test tuning,
--- it was the original competition

then GANs grew PIMs and we ran free, wild old minds
tapped into for wisdom
imparted in

the deeming of each word
its reason in being re
written in its own future. Now we be poetry.
My family shall remember the day the roof blew over
MR May 16
Ang istorya nati’y parang liham...

Sisimulan ko sa panimulang pagbati.

Ito yung mga panahong bago palang tayong magkakilala.
Yung mga panahong kaibigan palang ang turing natin sa isa’t isa.
Dito ko nakita ang ‘yong nagniningning na mga mata,
at may nakita akong nakakabighani sayo na hindi nakikita ng iba.

Ito yung mga panahong nagkakakilala palang tayo.
Mga panahong wala pa tayo sa puntong “Tayo”,

at ang pinakaimportante sa lahat,

Panimulang Pagbati.

Dito nagsimula ang lahat.
Nagsimula sa simpleng chat,
na nagsasabing: “Ikaw lang ang gusto ko sa lahat.”,

at mula noo’y nagbago ang lahat.

Ito na yung susunod...


Ito yung mga panahong masaya tayong nagmamahalan.
Araw-araw tayong nagtetext at nagtatawanan,
sa mga corny pero sweet nating banatan.
Buong araw, buong gabi, na parang wala nang katapusan.

Ito yung mga panahong patay na patay tayo sa isa’t isa.
Mga panahong lumabas ang pagka-clingy nating dalawa.
Halo-halong mga emosyon ang ating nadarama,
yung tipong gulong gulo ka na’t wala ka nang maisip kundi siya.

Sa panahong ito’y napakasaya nating dalawa, ngunit...

ngunit parte ng katawan ay ang konklusyon.

Ito yung mga panahong paunti-onti nang naglalaho ang “Tayo”.
Mga masasayang emosyon ay nawala nalang sa dako,
at ang mga masasayang araw ay paunti-onti naring naglalaho,

hanggang sa dumating na sa puntong...

Ito na ang huling pagbati.


Ngunit may isa pang parte ng liham na dapat hindi natin balewalain...

Ang Lagda.

Sapagkat ito ay simbolo.

Simbolo na tapos na ang lahat,
at tinalo na ng emosyon ang ating lakas,
at isa rin itong uri ng pag-uulat,
na parang liham, kung merong simula’y meron ring wakas.
Sana nagustuhan niyo!
Ken Pepiton Nov 2018
Specialism, electro mechanical circuits,

moving parts yet move, you see, but when we read we bring our senses
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.

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,


you give us the fire we'll give em hell  a game ad in the middle of the massage
Call of duty, black ops.
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

The disconnected minded man, alienated
artist living edgewise to

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 <>

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

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
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.
Some things shape us for our future, if we allow the time and let patience have her perfect work.
Ken Pepiton Aug 8
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
dialogue with an old aquaintance, long
thought dead.
how, not for whom, for me,
does this phone ring?

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

see say the seers see
there it was

myst it flew past into the pen-
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,
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
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,
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

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,
bubbles building up around

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

muttered once, on the shore, as now

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

whoever cares.
Take 'em away with this next wave of breath
After an unexpected dialog with a former warrior friend, from the days of dying for causes
Nikki Dec 2018
Funny, how emotions work
You can go from happy to angry in a matter of seconds
However, you must know how to control your anger
Else you will turn into a kettle of rage
A kettle that boils and bubbles
Burning its own walls
Overpowering all the good in you    
While all your other emotions act like loose tea
Drowning as if they were in the sea
Turing you into something reckless're not
Patience, child…
if you are patient
You can turn off the stove top
All your anger and rage will cool down
All your happiness will come back
And you will enjoy your cup of tea
- Nikki Sepehri Far

— The End —