Sunday, September 27, 2015

Robotics Vs. Humans

Averaging about one mile stone a decade and one full truth a century,
A robot would most productively be a more appropriate human, as it produces almost the complete opposite results.
In its in entirety it sees the things in a whole different light than a human.
This machine has no problem working its way through the even most complicated problem, even if it must do so continuously over a never-ending amount of time.
Unlike the human race where you see the constant biracial discrimination from one person to the next it cannot feel such a belittling thing as so, is not so petty and unworthy of free will.
It is a given, prospect that the mind of a robot is composed of a much more significant mass of intellectual importance, and growth than to Homo sapiens.
It can make the judgment calls and decisions needed to deal and do what needs to be done with the accuracy that is not acquired from the generations of humankind alike.
Robotics traps its target and locks it without a wavering, no faults or shifting.
If something is broken then it is to be fixed immediately and is automatically recognized to be dealt with either right then or at the appropriate time.
To forget would be like a loosing a leg for a robot their bodies, their systems; their brains would not allow such an inaccuracy.
This is what humankind has lacked for centuries, maybe even millennium.
To accept something that a mere machine, a Robot, cannot even fathom is what is ultimately the test of all-human’s true faith.
What would should we be a human or a Robot?

Is White a Color?

White, pristine, unblemished
They say it is not a color
I love white mists, clouds
Lingering on blue mountains.

White, no shades
No off white, cream
Pure as snow on shimmering peaks
Is my favorite sight.

Nurses, priests, politicians
Are bound, chained to white
White nebulous clouds
evoke deep nostalgic thoughts.

They swaddled my father in white
As he lay in the black coffin
His best shirt was white
His loin cloth was white.

The paper I write is white
White is holy, pure
They say light is white
Because it combines all colors.

So white is the mother of all colors
The churning of all yellow, blue, green
Colors sacrifice their egos
To the eternal white.

They say they are "white"
The purest of all races
I think they aren't white
But pink, beige and red.

Why can't colors of people
Merge and become white
Would people called "white"
Allow their color to merge?

Is white a color?
The matriarch of all colors
The fountain of all extent colors
Yes, king white reigns supreme!

Sunday, September 20, 2015

Live Each Moment

I may never see tomorrow,
there is no written guarantee.
And things that happened yesterday,
belong to history

I cannot predict the future,
I cannot change the past
I have just the present moment,
I must treat it as my last

I must use this moment wisely,
for it will soon pass away
And be lost to me forever,
as part of yesterday

I must exercise compassion,
help the fallen to their feet.
Be a friend unto the friendless,
make an empty life complete

The unkind things I do today,
may never be undone
And friendships that I fail to win,
may never more be won

I may not have another chance
on bended knee to pray
And thank God with humble heart,
for giving me this day

The Differences In Diversity

They say that no two snowflakes are alike.
Yet, in theory, they are the same.
They are snowflakes; identical.
Nonetheless, each one is unique.

Likewise, no person is alike.
And yet, we are the same.
We are human; identical.
Nevertheless, diversely unique.

We take pride in the diversity.
Of these white-winged, winter wonders from the sky.
And yet, we frown upon the beings, the humans.
That are different from us.

Aren't we all just like the winter white angels?
Identical in species.
Yet each of us unique.
In our own beautiful and wonderful way?

I ponder to myself.
The very question.
Of the difference in diversity.
And how we perceive and treat it.

Why do we adore the pretty patterns.
Of the winter white from the sky.
Yet we ridicule and frown upon.
The individuality in other people?

Why do we take pride.
In how different snowflakes are.
While we shamelessly mock the differences.
In our own kind?

Sunday, September 13, 2015

Crayons

Life is like a box of crayons. Most people are the eight-color boxes, but what you’re really looking for are the 64-color boxes with the sharpeners on the back. I fancy myself to be a 64-color box, though I’ve got a few missing. It’s okay though, because I’ve got some more vibrant colors like periwinkle at my disposal. I have a bit of a problem though in that I can only meet the eight-color boxes. Does anyone else have that problem? I mean, there are so many different colors of life, of feeling, of articulation, so when I meet someone who’s an eight-color type I’m like, "hey girl, magenta!" and she’s like, "oh, you mean purple!" and she goes off on her purple thing, and I’m like, "no — I want magenta!"  ~John Mayer

Millionare Mentor


Sunday, September 6, 2015

Wearing A Hat

A hat can hide a bad haircot
Or one with unwashed hair.
It often makes the waerer feel
That he or she has flair.


Protection from the rain or sun
A hat can provide
The wind wont get to tresses
When a cap's tucked them away.


The only drawback that I find
Is when I'm dining out
Or in the thearter where no racks
Or closests are about .


I have no clue where it should go
Or what to do with it,
So through the show or meal
Upon my lap it gets to sit.


A tiny price to pay , I think;
We go the extra mile
And suffer just a little bit
To strut around in style.



Saturday, September 5, 2015