Photographic Impressionistic Illusionistic
Photography Without Rules
Love has no meaning
In the hands
Of selfish children
It is a word
Without foundation
Free falling
To inevitable doom
When the atomic bomb fell
We said our goodbyes
Full of holes
And lies
Watching everything burn
The flames
Ripped breath and lung
We were free diving deep
Into the abyss
Then in mid ascent
Realizing
There’s not enough
To make it
To the top
There’s simply
Not enough
Air,
Freedom, identity, self-worth
Love
This is where I go
When the world goes mad
Everyone telling me
I must choose a side now
I must pass judgment now
Every man
Is my brother
Good, or not good
I mourn my brothers
Whose lives are so broken
That they find themselves
Forcefully subdued
I mourn my brothers
That find themselves
Bestowed with power
Beyond their control
I find mourning much more pragmatic than picking, or making a side, which will ultimately yield nothing of value. It requires circumspection, introspection, and a willingness to suffer at the hand of all truths.
However, as long as I have lived, and from what I’ve witnessed, mankind simply lacks the wherewithal to make this the standard.
Seemingly, we just want vengeance, dressed up in all sorts packages. That approach will never address the core problems. When will we learn?
Photographic Impressionistic Illusionistic 