Category: photography

if it’s just about the photography experience

Puppet Master

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(Sung with Dylanesque/Irish drone)


Verse1
Somewhere this winter
In the woods of our life
We scrambled to see
Who carried the knife

Who cuts through the fog
Of discontent’s game
That blinded young fool
Who carries no name

(Chorus)
The more things change
The more they stay the same
We look to the “leaders”
To confirm our gain

We’re asked to recover
That golden fleece
Brought in by the wolves
Who promise us peace

Verse 2
In the end we found
No ending at all
Just puppet master’s strings
The dance he’ll call

‘Til days that are comin’
When freedom we see
Take the knife of discontentment
And cut ourselves free


Multiple exposure photograph “Waterside” –
Print available here: https://bluemarblephotography.smugmug.com/Photographs/More-Blackbirds-Etc-I-See-A-Pattern-here/i-f9DfcQF/A


Alternatives

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The call of spring
A mere splash of color
Descending into a single point of energy

Its power
Hidden
From the rush of responsibility

One must decide
The lens of perspective
Whether of practical means
Or the freefall
Of climbing
Outside the skin

That blinds the eyes
And reveals the river
Of order among the chaos

We must always see the forest from the trees, but sometimes we just need to get real close to the magic in tiny spaces.
Modified Helios lens

Impulse Instinct Intuition

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Looking to define our separation
We call it instinct
Voiding the sentient nature of life forms

A bird lifts from atop trees
A measured effort, without brain power
Simply gaining energy potential

We see a crow
Harnessing thermals
Rising to the clouds

Weeping elephants
Grieve over a lost calf
Refusing to leave it behind

Have you heard the clicks
At the the bow?
Dolphin playing in the undertow

Our ability to think together
Build together
Is unique, beautiful, terrifying, destructive

Should we not return to some measured instinct?
That reasonable expectation
Of action-to-consequence ratio

The earth is one.







Orange Vanilla

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It tastes like heat
Waking you up
In the uncomfortable closeness
Of summer

Patched knees on my pants
Smell of sweaty boyhood
Hands dirty and cut
Breaking bottles in the alley

We learned about fighting
When to run
And other times
There were no places to run

But that treat
So cold
Orange chemical sweetness outside
Sugary vanilla explosion inside

It was worth the walk
Four blocks to the market
A few pennies
For a few minutes

This photo reminds me of the 50/50 ice cream bars of my youth.