=) Happiness
A Jungle of Unknown MemoriesThis poem is about an elderly man, who is curious of his past, A blank slate of blurred memories long past, but in his last months, he tries and succeeds at finding his past in a close by library, even though his past is only written by typewriters and catalogue cards, therefore the 'jungle' of memories.A Jungle of Unknown Memories
I venture in this jungle vast, To find out about my past, A jungle of photographs and memories, Moments frozen in time, Some irreparable, that's fine, But I'd like to keep them, if you please, Hand me my machete, So I can clearly see, The true chronology of me, Let my te
The Chronicles of the WildmanThe Chronicles of the WildmanThe Chronicles of the Wildman
I TREK FORWARD, In a clearing surrounded by naked pines, Whose crooked limbs are sheathed in a white blanket, I sometimes stumble, And fall to my knees, But I always find my way to my feet, My barefoot treading leaves prints in the snow, One step sangrian, one pure white, To and Fro, Back and Forth, How did I become such an abominable travesty? Indulge in my story. Born upon a day of rain and thunder, On the thirteenth of the month During the arising of a crimson sun to contrasting grey clouds, Creating a picturesque
Jakob Chrome, Pt. 1Jakob Chrome, Pt. 1Jakob Chrome, Pt. 1
Smoke plumes heavily from bricked chimneys skyward towards the stars,
Intermingling with the dying clouds, Some of it is wood that burns, some isn’t The soaked cobblestone streets lay in waste from the day, in trash, rain and blood, Neon lights flicker in the darkness to attract the passerby, Announcing the servicing women and gambling, And corrupt government workers fool around with those other than their wives,
Women or otherwise, Nothing seems to surprise the local public,
Not even the rotting body in the dumpster behind Foo-Chow Chinese, E
CatechismsThis is a world. A world purged heavily by gore, sin and corruption. To be naïve of this truth is to be foolish. But what is truth? What is Naivety? What is Foolishness? This is a festering world, true enough. That man sitting beside you on the train could be a killer, a murderer, but before you panic, who says murder is bloody? Who says it always results in humanistic death? Is there not social homicide? Social suicide? Social Stupidity thrives blatantly within this world, and those who wish to perceive it are the only ones who see it. We are all sinful in our own ways, be it subtle or broadcasted upon the 11’o clock news. WeCatechisms
Compassion
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“My hope still is to leave the world a bit better than when I got here.” -Jim Henson
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You set fire to my skin with your gaze
Bring me down to earth, and shoot me towards the sky again
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"Why do we fall down? So we can learn to get back up of course."
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"Nic naprawdę nic nie pomoze..."
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You set fire to my skin with your gaze
Bring me down to earth, and shoot me towards the sky again
i hope to not disappoint.
your support is appreciated.
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Keithlee M Spangler : Photography
submersed in music
fueled by coffee
hidden behind the lens
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