Encompassing a broad range of technologies
machines to perform what would usually be
the tasks and chores for humans
concepts that form the foundations
that enable assignments and and tasks
to be performed
concepts form the very being of
artificial intelligence and it's various employment
of specific usage
it's premise was to be used as an understudy
to help the thespians study there roles
Prompt desks and musical interludes included
the robots are the intellecail property
the theather and all the actions between
robot and person are filmed and are
the intellectaul property
of the studio
all words in accordance to the theathers scritps
and music. Even the humming and signing
are all the proerty of the studio or theather
rerecodings are forbiddened unless
contracted or allowed.
Scayles and Chords are conducted
Fibonacci sequence and arithmetic sequences
are arrangement of notes in a scale to the
overall form of a composition
Collaberations between humanoid and person
are contraceed.
Music Generators
Big Roy Versatile 1080
pressure to conform
prissy Dorothy liked dresses
impractical though
burned rear on park bench
showed pink panties in the wind
she favors slacks now
Do you
Think
They noticed me?
I mean
I noticed
Them
Perfectly
Perfect
The epitome
Of beauty
Without lifting a finger
Their skin
As clear
As my delusions
Why did I
Pick
This dress?
How did I
Walk out of the house
With the smile of “I look pretty”?
They must think
This bow in my hair
Looks idiotic
Plus the
Holding my sweater
In front of me
To hide
My not
Spindly frame
Do you
Think
They noticed me?
I mean
How could I
Not notice them?
Their plates
Were never
Full
So I
Overflowed a napkin
And made sure to throw it away
Or cleaned up
My lipstick in the bathroom a few times
If I did cave in
If I left now
Do you think
They’ll notice me?
Like
Leave
And not say anything?
They definitely wouldn’t
Notice me
Then
An intellectual dresses a simple idea in the cloak of heavy and elaborate words,
Building castles from long, intricate sentences that rise toward the sky,
While the poet, with eyes deepened in the mystery of the world, opens doors to truth,
He takes the complexity of life and transforms it into a song of wind and light,
Love becomes the flight of a butterfly, and pain a late autumn rain,
In an uninterrupted flow of thoughts, where words dance freely,
Poetry does not fear simplicity, for within it lies the depth of the world,
Touching hearts through a metaphor that shines brighter than a speech.
In the silence of the night, the verses find their echo in the souls of those who listen,
The poet embraces mystery, turning it into a palpable truth,
While the intellectual sometimes gets lost in the maze of complicated reasoning,
Yet in both flows the same desire to understand the universe around,
To find hidden beauty in details, meaning in every flicker of time.
Words, be they heavy or light, always seek their place in open hearts,
Where truth can be whispered or shouted in mountain echoes,
And thus, in the simplicity of verse, we find ourselves, without limits.
Henry was not a good painter at all
Until he channeled his Grandmother Gall
She made him dress in an imaginative way
Wearing her clothes and a hairbow gray
Henry’s paintings were suddenly very good
He began wearing Grandma’s sweatshirt and hood
So much better! His spirit guide said, guiding his hand.
He painted great but was the laugh of the land.
For people in a small town rarely get away
With dressing in drag for an hour, let alone a day
But Henry was dressing in gowns and aprons too
For his paintings were now selling as fast as his brushes flew.
Dusty little towns
West of the Great Divide
Where great-grandchildren of cowboys
On ranches still reside.
Small western museums
With local antiquities inside;
Native American artifacts,
Some horse tack for a cowboy's ride.
There among the fancy
Are two dresses hemmed above the knee,
20's Jazz Age fashion
Worn far from the speak-easy.
Caused a bit of an uproar,
As they danced on the sawdust floor.
Who were these rebel cowgirls,
These flappers from western lore?
Your looks to carry your first impression:
Your dresses ! Onlookers to appreciate.
It is said ‘ Choose food on own decision,
but select dresses on choice of associates.’
Your looks to lie on eyes of beholder.
Dress must fit well and also to look nice.
To tailor or give ready made order,
priority : how you look, not the price.
Several dresses, my closet to hold
uniforms, traditional, or casual
for summer, rainy season or the cold,
fashionable, formal, occasional.
I choose dress to look smart and elegant.
suitable, if made for an occasion.
Selection of dress ! Very important.
Dress to advertise my first impression.
I wear all types of dresses : typical
Bengali and North or South Indian
Assamese, also morning walk special.
Even feel free in some dresses : Western.
India - born, me specific Bengalee.
USA : my second home more or less.
I feel comfort in Jeans-Top, in Saree.
Long skirt -blouse : my most favourite dress .
She dresses spicy with ruffles and satin so bright.
We know she’s here, because the air gets light.
The chiffon on her sleeves are the palest tan.
She dances in high boots, with cutouts that can.
Who is her dressmaker the plain women ask.
She designs herself says her Great Uncle Flask.
He is not always reliable, and a braggart so…
We have no idea if this is the truth, as you know.
Mama allowed her daughter freedom to dress her way
Noncustodial dad who rarely came by wanted to have his say
She dresses too provocatively, he said, but they chased him away
He had never contributed anything to her, by the way
Wondering how fairies obtain dresses?
It's because they have fairy seamstresses
Sewing with pine needles and spidery
Gathered from spiders fine web filigree.
Pretty petals for fabric, leaves for shoes
Smelling of sweet fragrant floral perfume
Flowers to adorn their flowing tresses
Crystal star droplets sown into dresses.
Gossamer to turn into fairy wings
So fairies may fly in sky, revelling
Sprinkles of fairy dust, a wand for luck
When all dressed up, so pretty fairies look.
When you find fairies in a fairy glade
Recall how their lustrous outfits are made.
The irises,
In van goghs,
Dreamy canvas,
Sway,
Like lovely ladies,
In purple gypsy dresses,
To a still lilys sonata,
As the roses and sunflowers,
Sigh in vivid chorus,
And hues
Reynaldo Casison
My mother was a perfectionist.
A seamstress who made all of our clothes
She would look at a dress in a window
Run home and make it but prettier.
I did not have a store-bought dress until I married.
It cost $19.99 and I was askance!
How dare they ask that much!
My husband had to send me back to buy it.
I still have my own teeth,
My hearing's mostly unaided,
I still dream about girls
In white dresses with sashes,
But sometimes I feel
Out of sync and frustrated
When I wake up alone
And the fantasy crashes.
I didn't mind growing up,
But growing old's overrated.
Lamplight waves stretch across the river
as the snowfall casts its glassy arms across
the shimmering river.
Wreaths hung on lampposts exude cheer to passers-by
as Sol bows his head for a moment of pre-twilight
silence in this idyllic place.
Fireside chats reverberate from among the
snow-laden rooftops and the soft whispers of
falling stars cast their whispers to the early
winter winds, beneath sunset skies.
Golden light spreads its' yellow haze to brighten
a lonely snowman's evening; even the dog delights in
this Rockwellian scene of hope at Christmastime.
It's a night of peace for new beginnings
yet to come.
She is young, and it is twenty twenty two
I was not expecting her to dress like a Bohemian
Not realizing it is the style, as I am older and not stylish now
She is my granddaughter, and is musical
Another surprise since I cannot clap on rhythm
She is darling in her bell bottoms and her fringed vest
She would have fit in nicely on the Sonny and Cher show
She could slide into 1971 with ease, no one would notice her
She picks up the guitar and takes me back fifty years
I love this “new” old look.
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