Accepting Fate Together…

Our children and we, child-speak and drink and think and with dancing songs and rhythm beats of drum and spirit and smile; do search the identity of identity searches as flesh survives despite the spirit’s knowing of the knowledge of a universe of time and space. We crawl toward accepting the acceptance of fate and the together strength in our cave. We all are never Machines…

Four main types of artificial intelligence are:

  • Reactive machines. Reactive machines are AI systems that have no memory and are task specific, meaning that an input always delivers the same output. … 
  • Limited memory. The next type of AI in its evolution is limited memory…
  • Theory of mind?
  • Self-awareness?

The term “inference” in AI refers to the process of deriving conclusions from data or evidence”. “In other words, inferencing is using the information at hand to make logical deductions and predictions. There are two main types of inferences: inductive and deductive”.

We all are Never Machines…We are all Self-Aware.

From genetic profiles spinning webs into calculations inherited and dancing traits and the merging of urging begin beginnings of tiny robots’ mirrors of images and with simple complexity children of love are born complete with slivers of magic beasties portions of golden hearts and short stops between stops for Eternal Spirits to slower whirling twirls and once again come blood dance and double body.

Witches formed the twirling-whirl. Enchantresses will revisit and revive their designs. So! Return now. Perhaps, this is a suitable time? Beware the twirl of haunted paramours. Each motion is a dance with unreal realities. They delight in the child’s discovery; of life, without opaque details and sans those sundry levels; unknown, behind crafted shells and the ruined confines of age. This substitute; when discovered, is grief for a reduced lover while crying sugar tears and fire-sweetness and the recollections of chance? Appearing in cloud early, we perish within a jumble-muddle of dusted rain and rust. In transition and pursuing the flash-ride; to spiral and skip, we frame time and often miss but never-ever fall.

From this harbor, there once sailed great ships of crystal sent across the seas of space toward small spinning places three steps from a little yellow sun dancing lights and heated waves vibrating life chances and starts and beginning of ends in exploded variations of home and conducive to blood-fleshed creations and our creature-selves.

Are we living proof of the something-of-else far from planet here to there where once and often Gods ruled the what-of-ever-forever-for-more-or-less and created woman and man inside the worlds of Sirius and Nomad Gods dragged life’s sweet creations to Mars and Earth and another beyond in hinged fringes and the bright light of golden ships of purple sails and silent engines? Improved and less and by the joint endeavors’ of sin and survival we remained alive?

These ships of crystal and filled to brim with living mischief and the odd whimsy of god-speak  and legend lurched forward toward features reversed or continued or extinguished. Titans created the creations of presences and histories and current fallacies. And! Since wars among Titans raged heaven’s high and length, ‘tis simple why creatures created in images or by production of accidents’ industrial strength and robotic renovations determined little more than continued strife and strike and stupidity and suffering through little success successfully executed and always lost.

However: The created creations lost an ‘Eden’ place when the ‘She’ and ‘He’ of the ‘It’ either happened by an accidental accident or fell from or was pushed out of the wonder of ‘Immaculate Contraptions’ and through construction divine discovered the ‘other than’ robotic being and joined the ‘Spirits of Twirl’ while discovering choice is better than and more difficult than the straight-in-line-crawl toward golden lights and cave dwelling and scrawling dots or dashes against walls without reasons or rhymes or the ‘Rhythm of Love.’

The created ‘Something’ became Creators’ images. Titans both liked and did not like those new some and toothsome robotic creators and out of the Martian splendor again Crystal ships left and those Wars of Heaven started again and ended again with a bang of clang and thunder as flashed bright light streaked to ground and again to sky shapes and sweeping clouds. Natures’ way and the wary way of being a meek part of some partial particle of the ways of Natural processes or nature’s no reasons to whimsically past time became new  ideas and shapes always simple and called ‘grand schemes’ of things discovered and ways-to-live again…

Again: The concepts of Alpha’s fade into sunlight’s setting in a western sky or an eastern place where Suns counter-twirl the clock’s faced sweep of hands out-of-motion in the used-to-be circle and night still happens and daylight is always measured in products produced and profits lost or gained. Must be the Gods of creation.We created them and ‘they’ must earn a return for their creation ‘so let it be written?

And! On this day ‘smaller’ Titans create crystal ships against the blue of sky day and sail east into a setting sun as orange/red disappears along the line. No profit for created creations. No bill to pay for a piper of songs of long ago sounds or for an eternal drum-lined-march-to-war…Just peace and sunset’s sweet and crystal ships on these waters sail along a line where sky meets sea and light fades into a very fine night. Watch for those purple sails and listen for the distant sounds of silent engines and ‘Oh Yeah—Baby’

And! Beautiful you are…

All Found And Again Lost…

Love reminds us of the equality of equals! Of woman and man and the spirits of all trapped and living sentient sentences inside body while minding body.

A universe of angular momentum is turbulent from dust to black holes. Notches of rotation are slight, are massive and just happen. What splendid adhesive preserves the Whirl-of-the-Twirl?

We and the dust of us are voyagers. We are scattered ‘cross places of everywhere? We are not timed or blessed or wonderful or gifted or fortunate or meant-to-be ‘something else.’ The dust of us is without a price-tagged-branded-commodity of enhanced steroidal surgically modification. We create cartoon fashions and lip-stick mouths pouted and picture perfect when replicated glossy imitations of sport models swish as a dish of corruption and a wiggle of splash-dash hope and fanatic fantasy.

We build twelve inch wide maple shelves inclined and staggered up a soft and painted wall. Upon this vertical presentation, we place flea market choices, colored jars filled with copper and stones discovered. We decorate and we change as season alters sight and sound and scent.

We travelers internally detect or obtain from ‘reliable sources’ a “sorta” source sorted through search or lurch internally through structures only to reach and teach or bleach amid many throngs of wrongs as ‘sure truth’ is torn from snow-bright-right to lies-lily-white. Deceits detected or accepted or rejected or corrected from inside-out applicability is not workable until altered internally and externally prior to exposed or imposed upon the confusion of mass-squeak-speak. What a righteous cycle; when whispers, smiles and sighs and quiet nods could or would be better?

“So, does that mean we’ve got to rest contented

And say, ‘That’s how it is and always must be,’

And spurn the brimming glass for what’s been emptied

Because we’ve heard it’s better to go thirsty?” by Bertolt Brecht

This time of days of times ago and today, may the old man vision touch those other ones and whisper, “Not this time and never this time, will our children ever go to war.” Others know that this time of times will not be the time for dead families and metal touches-to-body-madness. For these flashes in time, fighters are not compulsory.

The whole world appreciates humanities’ finest minutes. “Love and Peace and Touch and Trust” with no controls or advances or imaginations. Just connecting the realities of reality and sensing those sweet spaces, just an instant before lips touch with co-mingled breath and the cold nightfall warms. A second when no one stares into empty space without noticing starlight’s star bright and star-ships’ passing between light-speed and arrival, silently appear. A rational response to a rational insanity.

When all and sundry realizes that what we do not have-does not mean anything. When hearing a lover’s voice touch our heart before substance becomes words of meaning-or-reason-or-another notion. When silence completely fills all senses with rumble and clatter and music and notes, chaotic or symphonic simplicity. Then duality ceases and singularity melts into universal polarity and truth.

The love-of-man and the love-of-woman must not be divided by the capital of greed. Consider! All are fashioned by the equal blending of us and beyond the borders of a-wherever-boarder for non-reasons and steeped in-the-fallacy of color, big guns, ‘atomic destruction’ and the perpetual diatribe of isolation, individuality and fear.

Remember that we have the right to be Everywhere.

And! Beautiful you are…

Beneath Many Moons Tonight…

We, with adoring attention, create robots small, bundled rows of life about Earthrise and beneath Moon sparkle still altered-still same and always twirl-spaced ‘cross time bridged and rhyme. We inspire desire and require sweet diversity. Until shaped we shift created life, a fabricated slip and tanked in agile spark from womb-song-to-light-then-back-again-to-two-removed and started again.

We would have this no other way!

Genetic profiles whirling webs from calculations inherited and dancing traits and the merging of urging, originate the beginnings of tiny automata and mirrors of images and with simple complexity, children of love are born complete with slivers of magic beasties, portions of golden hearts and short stops between Eternal Spirits’ crossings. Blood dancers and double bodies and whirling twirls with once slower motions now come constant as light races day bright into night.

We would have this no other way!

The evangels of lofted Deities’ notions as something unusual crawls our way. Those haves may have half twirling tales or songs or other psalms of other notions that those highest Gods of swirl cannot contain life and the wag-of-wiggle of shaping-shifters and Robots are We. And! Those ghosted machines may also be those spirited Us. Tiny speck-to-magic-witch and we survive all to dance life across those many spaces of races and kiss storm stars known or stars to remember and costars to forget.

We would have this no other way!

Dare we trace or dare-we-risk a reach inside spaces of Code-genetics and count the current streams to spin or craft to be or to leave the untouched alone. Why not touch to feel? Some today’s we destroy both the of wonder of wonder and sometimes we die in the fearing of fear. Sometimes, eternal spirits and the realm of nonsense physical do confuse and bewilder or cure the magic of life and the mystery of death.

We would have this no other way!

Images create as mirrors drift from mortal moment to immortal spirit with motions from nothing to something and again back to those nothings of something that may have almost started or stopped and started all over again. Would have and could have and should have may have already been here or gone over and over, ad infinitum. The life, both of, Robot Creators and Creator Robots forever last and through our eternal stretch and scratch will survive…

We would have this no other way!

And! Beautiful you are…

Wishing You Gentle Winds and Freedom…

This is the world of living things—where a lamb does sleep within the safe touch of lion strength and length and the roar of peace is the call of timeless harmony and another rhythm of another rock as stones roll toward valley deep and…Where no kills are justified and justice crosses no blind alley or fear or tear touches courted reasons to ‘shoot-not-shoot’—but to speak in the words of flesh same and blood red and compete completely through both understanding and care.

These are rich structures without form. These towers are buildings without prestige. These places appear a cornucopia of shapes with no rhythm or rhyme. Lines both; hard and simple, reveal and complicate turns and curves. Synchronization of positions and flawless of construct. Elements of precision and of mischief. Often the eyes of Spirits active are miniatures. Often specks and flecks of gold and silver coats. Many are layered but still seen by beholder and beholden. Ice streams descend in slow straight lines—from rooftop slopes to solid sidewalks. Planes and plain models are soon streaks of many colors-colored glass and permit-in transitory twilight. Then, out-of-sight and with this bright-city-light appears an ‘almost-maybe’ night.

“Now you’re telling me
You’re not nostalgic
Then give me another word for it
You who are so good with words
And at keeping things vague
‘because I need some of that vagueness now
It’s all come back too clearly
Yes I loved you dearly
And if you’re offering me diamonds and rust
I’ve already paid” …by Joan Baez

Touch lips and finger kiss your lips to mine then time space while moments’ race. Civil layers never die. Tradition slips, and graciousness is forgotten. So are whirling dances and twirling songs. And! In Silence carefully watch tonight. Sails do catch sparks-of-wind and high tides to run-to-sea-you’ll-see—won’t we? Struggle is perfect for the winner. The impartial distribution of resources never legitimately occurs. Productivity costs: over time, with all reasons spent, some products lost and some reasons to divine.

“All across the nation
Such a strange vibration
People in motion
There’s a whole generation
With a new explanation
People in motion
People in motion

For those who come to San Francisco
Be sure to wear some flowers in your hair
If you come to San Francisco
Summertime will be a love-in there

If you come to San Francisco
Summertime will be a love-in there” …by John Phillips

Why support Capitalism since it is now; ‘Insatiable and Unequal and Repressed and Tyrannical and an Enemy of ‘We the People’ and of ‘Earth’s Twirling Humanity’? Tangible wages are gone. The powers of Societies’ Unions are gone. And! A Right—Wrong transference in Economics, Politics, Labor’s markets and an enlightened American refinement are now ‘all gone!’ ‘Trickle down’ is a perpetual lie! And! Remember; ‘there are no Blue Color Billionaires.’

We are not creations of memorial mistakes and made markers by ‘bombs early light’ and gun flashes as bullets night-fly to shatter dreams and hopes and pride as life start/stops too soon and family through sorrow also flies away to something just beyond reaches and the notions of together days of tomorrow’s futures and memories of yesterday’s today. Our children and we—as child-speak and drink and think and dancing songs and rhythm beats of drum and spirit and smile; do search the identity of identity search as flesh survives despite the spirit’s knowing of the knowledge of a universe of time and space. We crawl toward accepting the acceptance of fate and the together strength in our cave homes. We also run toward the individual hope of ourselves without shells and reasons to become other than the self of us and me and you and I and justice time…

“The circle safely closed—the web building starts—the markers of builders old and builders new. Star Guide—folded into original shape— until it is—again required and opened to read and follow— ‘cross sky-bridge. Bang-Bah-Boom-Bang-Bang and let the game begin—again… ‘Tis’ good this Loving Rhyme. So! Follow this Time—this Twine—Re-wind. 

‘Wishing you days of Gentle winds—Soft curves and Wonder’

And! Beautiful you are…

From Templates to Tears…

“You see, I really have to tell you
That it all gets so intense
From my experience
It just doesn’t seem to make sense
Still you turn me on
Hmm, you turn me on.”Greg Lake

The soft sounds of wind pushing pine needles ‘cross autumn’s forest floor and the silent serenity after snow’s midnight fall. If impulse is response then decision is evolution. In 1610, Johannes Kepler chanced a walk across the celebrated Charles Bridge in Prague and as snow fall begin to catch on his coat, he brushed away six-sided flakes from the cloth covering his arms. While gathering more of these flakes, Johannes realized that they were all six-sided and he marveled at the convenience of this discovery and the perspicacious brain and the extraordinary curiosity of the human mind; quantified within the quality of, spiritual being.

Magically! Birds transform the air they breathe into surprisingly sweet songs.

Beneath surface and far below Segment Star, two and one half billion spirits live and labor and ache and fail and love and hate along with many sunless days and nights of starlight gone or ignored and remembered when mind switches from bonded illumination to those blind mix slips between neon’s shine and semi-sweet chocolate dusk. Light is saturated in creamy grey and night becomes thick swirls of vanilla warmth were blended shadows shake. Machine wonders and spirits guide the processes of robot arms and legs and watch through robot eyes and hear through robot ears and once or often weep spirit tears and die never-ever-even if a book-or-ten call living ‘sins of flesh’ when spirited robots must live and die and forever move into dusted star-streams while dancing among a trillion light twinkles sketched across the winter’s sky. From twins of two the power of life sparks and alone-never places begin and end.

The concentration of control and the circulation of capital to an exceedingly few; ensures a coordinated manipulation of power. And! When a united concentration of influence becomes intolerable, abuse of authority from within occurs. Businesses are weakened, are malformed and ultimately discover their own expiration dates. After rebellions; old paradigms are changed and what was because; becomes what possibly happens and for that reason, becomes what could be happening, becomes what just happened along with those shocks and shouts of perchance or songs of renewal; maybe, become just another equivalent, once more. Businesses are expected to maximize production and slash expenditures? This essentially increases greed and corners those essential laborers of productions’ intensification into wage captivity?

And! By what means, do we ‘become skilled at’ manipulating our own free inclinations, to achieve; whatever, regulations demands us to accomplish? How are the differing views and values and expressions and the hopes and beliefs of ‘common folk’ found and drown round ‘quitting time’ and treated and completed and continued and amended and silenced by ‘formidable and influential folk?’ We finance singularity; beginning with genetic fancy, and eternally forfeiting the damages of remedy’s obverse exit. Factions orbit while curving outward in free resolve. Published freedoms and outside thoughts are bent-broken-borrowed-lost-stolen and rapt; within those white spaces, linking black ink and rhyme.

“When I gasp for strength
I borrow it from you, oh the strong ones!
You carry the load stupendous
Of the humanity
Time and time again
Since the dawn of awareness

How do you do that I wonder
The weight of ignorance
The mountain of evil
The heaps of malice
of billions (and countlessly repeated)
You carry the cross of non-love alone
Time and time again
For others to feel loved
Appreciated and pleased

How do you do that I wonder
How do you stay so calm
Amid the whirlpool of clamor
Kind and compassionate
In devouring face of brutality and mayhem
How do you spread your light
Right through the forest
of fear, delusion and stupor
You salvage the soul
For others to be safe
And to feel light and restful
In a life of little wisdom

How do you do that I wonder
How do you spread your magic
Of charm, nobility and honor
In hearts so dark there
that beasts may refuse a habitation
How do you pull that trick
of giving the innocence back
so that he is human again!
How do you enthrall
the dull, the doped, the ordinary
to carry the torch
of your divine glory

Oh load-bearers of humanity
I wonder how you carry the load so awesome
But when I gasp for strength
I take refuge in your strength
I take refuge in you!”…Bhaswat Chakraborty

Today’s corporations; spinning across our planet-of-twirl, are necessary. And! While this Republic does embrace and dance and dodge and halve-a-partial régime of our Democratic notions into palatable, chunks-to-bites-to-morsels, would this waltz of Democracy also include; an ability to prevent, all abuses of power by: our government, our labor, our capital and our management.

“In the shadow of the steeple I saw my people
By the relief office I see my people
As they stood there hungry, I stood there asking
Is this land made for you and me?”Woody Guthrie

Organizations ought to recognize that uninterrupted existence; as presently realized, is the perceptive notion that the environmental aftermath of too much for too few with too many ‘no’ and too few ‘yes’—ultimately totals ‘No’ for everything and everyone. An “Atlas Shrug” and Corporations spontaneously know that ‘acquiring must forever be balanced with providing.’ This is not a “wig-waggle’ of Socialism-vs-Capitalism. This not a ‘giggle-wiggle’ of “We the People-vs-the Wall Street island-of-Greed.” No! Serving in balance with taking; is in step, with Workers. And! Labor is the swivel of our Universe and Profits either rise or fall with; equality and societies’ advancement; good-to-better and never good-to-worse. Possibly! The potency of progress; is the track toward a higher moral ‘Code of Corporate’ behavior the world over.

Our Republic; may be able to purpose, previous and present-day and potential paradigms to divide, to constrain, to reproach, to restrict, to relinquish and to rescind. Bereft of legitimate commitments through our Republic’s Branches three: Judicial, Legislative and Executive; where seldom a harmonies phrase of musical rhyme or rhythm exists; perhaps notions of balance, will be realized by Corporate examination and the equivalence of construction and remuneration will succeed sans a Workers’ Revolution. And! Through a far-fetched glimpse into an unidentified and mysterious prospect; since Corporations are created to hide ‘fact and fiction,’ perhaps all Cooperative blurs will ‘gain a soul’ during these successes.

Often and ‘round countless dinner tables, it is believed that Calimesa Sea is where the world ends. No one has ever crossed the sea, so no one really knows where the water ends and land begins. Perhaps, sea wraps earth and returns to the base of Calimesa Hills. An invisible dome encloses Sky Mountains where no one lives or visits or touches or appreciates. Truth? And! When again ‘surfs-up’ and extreme rollers recover coastline sections and earth; would rather dwell, in the Villages of Fisher-folk than in the standings of middling automata minus machined chis and sans productive motives and rising forlorn as ‘wave-crash’ claims us all. Remember! We do entirety.

Now! Drink a Bourbon ‘kinda’ whiskey at the Ginger colored Inn. A dark and harsh moon; pale to be and faint to see and along-way-off-to-touch-skin. Wind begins to-end–tonight. Begins to stop again, as Spirits depart and windows have no views.

And! Beautiful you are…

 

‘On Walpurgis Nicht.’ Performed by FAUN

 

‘Lucky Man’…By Greg Lake
Performed by the Keith Emerson Band