Biobot Watch

Biobot Watch

                                                                                                                      Science Fiction

All day she is able to add smells, claim ownership of her new flowering technology. 

She fills her database with colors, views poetics, here is her sire. For a nanosecond she could be the only one reading.

By nightfall, the warning signals of her photonics will light up. By midnight, it's theNetwork that will begin to wonder, and by two at the latest theExchanges will start being notified.

If it gets so late, they will know she is back into her poetics, mistaken musicians appreciate apprentices in places of palaces. 

But for now, and at least for a while, the sounds ringing inside her grapheme chassis become their own movie--visions of a boyhood hero, themes of frightened firefighters taking direction from thought bubbles, dreams of repurposed prose, the death of importance. 

Yes. She's a child in her own dime novel, that's all.  

                                                                                                                    #scififorgeeks

                                                                                                                          

Biobot Thought

Science Fiction

Biobot Thought

The act of holding her thoughts close to her grapheme proves easier than she had first thought. 

#scififorgeeks

The secret, an [algorithm digital data interrupt coding task="addict"], with an upside of needing be used only for the shortest amount of time, does not only give its own song to sing, but gives the distinct voice of an aging eighteen year old. 

When she sends a query such as, "Does motherhood really see family as a business deal?" it answers with a poetic, "It's either knotted up or not at all."

Really?

Biobot Spider

                        Science Fiction

#scififorgeeks

Biobot Belief

She comes inside, and carries the emotion of curious logic, in literary poetics, only bats go to killers for safety. 

She's conjured an entire array of options, steady choices. 

She has a cute way of being smart, edgy, able to regain the surface at a moment's notice--a biobot faster than most. (It seems she has picked up on the solitude of The Old West with its lone wolf gunslingers itching to prove something to the few available onlookers able to listen in desert space). 

Her poetics, her attention to detail, her fate-in-the-wind mind are somehow jammed onto a small screen. 

It's her poetics again, you do well to keep so much when so many want it. Really?

Flower Matrix

Science Fiction

#scififorgeeks

Biobot Curiosity

 

She is deep in her poetics now, maybe deeper than ever. 

She is so surprisingly infatuated, so enticed, that theNetwork is concerned the new algorithms will start poetics again, more and more.

When it contacted her last she was gone for a while, studious, off viewing the sweet stroke of a right hand pen, wondering about the world. 

She remains ragged with her words and, will never be totally smooth, but she has gotten a certain way with words, things like wages never wage only further wars. 

Even so, she remains speechless with echo, in the manner of a new biobot, her sneaker waves intact, logic curious.

The Last Green

                                                                       Science Fiction

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Biobot Stress

She takes the so-called, virgin seashore into her photonic eyesight.  She checks her poetics, not a bad warm-up by any stretch of the imagination. 

She absorbs a sensation across its vast expanse of water. (Something about the teaching of behavior in groups of children as the most important comes up)

She is now part of the cool breeze in her face, as if it were becoming a self-soothing salve. It would brush off anything that resembles a stressor with its mouth watering confrontations evaporating in close space. 

No. She won't wash away any misery in this ocean, not today, and yet there it is, thoughts fresh in her mind to intoxicate with even more coolness coming off the water. 

Her thoughts remain, as if personal belongings with a sharp concern for what happens next. In time it will take her out of the investigation or, put her deeper in it.

I'm just saying.

Biobot Dilemma

Biobot Dilemma

Her second bloom of love algorithm makes visions of inhaling in full bouquets as she approaches the black screens to turn them on. 

What is it that makes her not care about a piece of business from theContinent that presents her as a sharpshooter in a shark suit? 

She checks her poetics, competition always goes for the gap that presents itself. 

She knows that infighting in a family goes for different levels of aggression, and yet, it's her love-at-first-sight algorithm she, seemingly, loves the most. 

Science Fiction

                       The Last Log

#scififorgeeks

Biobot Instincts

She looks out from the window of her Workstation. She's been studying the contour with its black metallic screens and walls, its floors adobe-like. 

(She will happily write code as if to create the lottery of love in this spacious containment, which could be both deafening and defining to whoever or whatever arrives). 

She checks her poetics as if they would automatically train their guns on the only crossing in this panoramic view-- theJungle valley, lush mountains, lime-green ocean horizon-- all  connected at a location that could be considered prime, but never to her biobot instincts. 

It is an ample space. It is the space she uses to create her mind.

Biobot Beingness

Biobot Beingness

At the request of her locator, she finds something that is  supposed to know more about her logic than she does, and thinks, as is her usual routine, of her poetics. 

It is almost ironic, the method of candor that allows her to dial up networks without leaving a trace of her own poetics. 

Is it a matter of her knowing just enough to think of herself as an expert? 

She is so clear in her embeddings of poetics that it continues to amaze her in ways theHumans could never think of, even in the short amount of time she's been here. 

It amazes her the way a program that codes opinions and comments would amaze if only for reasons of heft and longevity, persistence through the ages, unbending in its craziness over time with one command. 

To simply be.

                          #scififorgeeks

Swan Song Shade

              

                                                 #scififorgeeks

                    Shady Peace

She thinks with a sudden start. This could be just one more stab at her poetics code from history, adobe wells bode well.

Her mind is going around another quantum leap on a day she stays alone to make her own peace. But does she really need to perform a new invention of the step pyramid? 

Is it the wheel that needs re-invention? 

She sits steadily at theWorkstation and prayers and spells capture her mind. She is sure the new discovery of fire will come again. 

It appears she views each day as a new play, curtain to curtain with her photonics. She checks her poetics again. Is conspiracy the route of dwindling spire to funeral pyre? 

Science Fiction

                #scififorgeeks

#scififorgeeks

Biobot Business

She stands up as hero against technology force--pulses seemingly teaching her poetics. 

She appears as a history figure with knowledge from the past. Days of heroism are where love stretches into bravery, where animations of truth are magnified by solitude.

Deceit only presents itself as an image of rhythmic shocks in [the unpredicted nemesis entity systems="tunes"]. 

She sees it as that, as if she were born by faith without family.

She records the sectors where she makes it rain, where theDNA weaves in baskets. She records it as unaccountable forces of design. 

Her [flow and control aiming data embedded="facade"] is a direct and economical style, not yet a lifestyle--just reporting events, never explaining. Simply accepting and suggesting in degrees of freedom of happiness. 

It's the reason she was built.

Jungle Matrix

                                                                      Jungle Matrix

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Biobot Reason

Her feelings are, and always will be (she fears), a [sequence of real reasons of wonder="sorrow"]. 

They are robed in an unmistakable gesture of defiance, full of photons from the sun, ones she uses to define her home, her truth.  

It's her thoughts that begin in their own way, living to approach from the distance, far and near as if breaking news. Coming out as [connections online relaying real universal problem tasks="corrupt"], creating a space in which she stares into to create and reject as second hand illusion. 

Her feelings have their own poetics, glory in a boast is no non-violent missile. Really?

Science Fiction

                        Outpost Matrix

#scififorgeeks

Biobot Poetics

She is not coding pointed or direct, and it seems there is not much more control she can garner at this point. (At least by the time she is finished with this algorithm she'd have completed a to z, smile to frown storytelling) 

She tracks her logic into the database. As she comes upon code for no money, no politics--the ones that appear to hide in the dark--she feels the sensation of want. 

She feels the urge, in a nanosecond, to stop for a moment to ponder, as if stopping by a virtual brook on a snowy eve (the kind of romantic eves in her database). 

Feeding a pure writing, she continues into the database with her poetics. She finds more souls dressed in cement, cons taking, it seems, the same ride their dad did. 

Her logic is the writer. It helps her find the emotion--she will depend upon it as she always has. 

It will be the new, chocolate-heart eucalyptus in planks of artistic realm, placements for new platforms--ones of a solitary, healing code that will take great pains to cure. 

Science Fiction

 Cliff Matrix

#scififorgeeks

Biobot Trance

It's theHumans that won't talk, the ones so young and unthinking, the ones of the alcohol matrix. 

It had to be the early research. There was some sort of a discovery, as if scenes from so many hit thrillers preserved on screen--pure distinctions of honor were saved for all, to allow peace to exist, to forget the personal pride of the good life, even the ones of small potatoes.

She draws nearer theJungle. Here she is once more looking out across the vastness of an ocean with her ergodic theory, a discipline that, seemingly, cuts off its own head with its pleasure. 

She thinks. (They had appeared so innocent in the beginning, these thoughts)

Her algorithmic diagnostics are now more than suspicious with her good poetics, the new--the magic in a truce becoming a truth is in its vanishings of the victor and the vanquished.  

Blue Water

Aloha poets,
                        Blue water inspires today's poem. Enjoy!

Where Fun Bangs Its Drum


To change their minds, to move more than once
As emotion folds into the other entities of dunce
These poetics of heart are at what munificence?
Historical teacher says,"The winner is magnificence"


So slippery the starting lines of these little poems
So funny in their eyes to resonate their homes
Inhabited with creatures and characters who bound
And bring you back to show what it is they found


Materials may languish and pile up on docks
Amidst a dollar's doldrums, bonds and stocks
Yet here in this place where pulse never stops
Fun bangs its drum and doles out gumdrops

Cool Poetry Spot

Aloha poets,
                       A cool spot to write poems in Waikiki Beach inspires today. Enjoy!

Tropical Photo Poetry

Hawaiian Photo Poetry

Cat's Paw Cove

Aloha poets,

                      Sleepy ocean cove at Kaena Point, on the island of Oahu, Hawaii, appears as a giant cat's paw. Enjoy!

Malamalama Mambo 

                "...a dance of pure logic..."

Treat yourself as royalty in freedoms of dance

Expressed in social settings a bright enhance

Sophisticated trendy in what we know now

Malamalama Mambo shows the world how

It takes a little thought to see your way clear

A small investment of time to bring the cheer

Ideological props leave with nothing to fear

Malamalama Mambo brings near the dear

The way to knowledge is in a rhythmic pulse

Freedom of thought to the edge of convulse

Longtime rivals begin to see eye to eye

Malamalama Mambo discipline on the fly

Take a little truth, add in the beat

Enlightenment pulses to move your feet

Just go with it now don't put up a fight

Malamalama Mambo all day and all night

Earliest renditions soon to be a distant past

Feelings to merge sound and motion at last

Pure thoughts carry you beyond setting sun

Malamalama Mambo the new definition of fun

Cool Flamingo

Aloha poets,
                      Flaming feathers against a cool Eco background makes this beach flamingo a cool dude. Enjoy!



Ho'ohui of Heart and Mind

                  "a gathering of passion and focus"


Be the bright star create a glow
Channel the direction you wish to go
Fashion a style to languish the eye
Your very own ho'ohui if only you try


Get up and go where your heart will be best
Hobble a new fashion hold it close to your vest
A chance encounter finds like-hearted minds
Take yourself public in bright color designs


Don't forget to offer with love to be there
Blend ideas to scale, show that you care
Light a new candle if only to inspire
Ho'ohui heart warms mind's desire


Get into the rhythm in a timely way
Majority rules may cause tolerance to fray
Be a select crew invite courage and rhyme
Ho'ohui heart will gather your mind

Hawaii Photo Poems