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Photography
Tuesday. 7.13.04 5:18 pm
i dont really know if i want to post this on here but i suppose i will. i was reaallly in need to write and this is what came out of my ass. i was thinking about a number of things. its a half ass try at writing a poem that turned into just a random rant about sillouettes and pictures. i uno. but yeah, this is what i wrote:

Hrm. Interesting. slightly and incredibly. interesting. i didnt really articulate my want for a photographer in my life, but i dont really know how to capture it. i think i need to write a poem about it... i should. i think i will.

you watch the night and create memories
and see the trees and all there is to see
its the violet sillouetes that pull you in
its the darkness of your soul and everywhere you've been

right then and there you wish for something
to capture this most beautiful thing
a lense to open the worlds eyes
a film to capture it before it dies

but as you turn awaiting its flash


fuck. there goes my writers block again. fuck. i cant do it. not anymore. its gone. taken out for leave and unwilling to be as i wish it to. sigh. there really isnt a thing in which i can do.

the black reflects you know, the souls run up and down you know. the reflection of the death peirces everything you know. what there is to say and waht there is to do, the crimson light will block it out. worry not, tisn't a thing can harm your so useful bubble, tisn't a tear to break it, only to wash it. what it is, and what it was. the papers turning yellow now,a nd the antiquity astonishes with its ageless apperance. there isnt much but then agian, well, hence, the world is falling now but there really wasn't a world to fall now. was there, is there, can there, be such a world, such a dimension in which one feeds dies and recylces in a beauty they name life. grows, learns, ages, in a curse they name life. poets with their sensitivity, artists with their tools and talents, and people, with their eccentricity. isn't it all interesting, causing an odd affinity? i am humble now to teh steps to above i knwo now that these steps i am not to travel, there are worlds awaiting, and situations made to be. so lets see where it is to turn and where i am to go.

i was watching the night and the silloutes bore their life to me, giving a gift in which means so much to so little. they let me see what little see and what only the night may produce in a dying light. i onlny wish to capture it, in its completeness, and to thy own understanding one will never comprehend the beauty in which i was lovingly allowed to see. To capture it with paper, lenses, and false light, maybe, to share with others everything that i have seen, to give as i have been given. what one as i needs is one with the talent, one with the ablity, one who is capable. but then again there tisn't a person exists who can see as i see, who will be content as i am, watching the rain fall, seeing the trees and the skys gift to all, laying under the ground six feet to experience it all. there isnt a person exists who will. or is there?

done. i did it. not in a poem. but i dont know. does my photographer exist? or is this a blind quest. time will tell.

4 Comments.


yup, you should be bored more often.
» DarknessPrevails on 2004-07-13 08:11:13


sorry i didn't pick up. I fell asleep.
» DarknessPrevails on 2004-07-13 08:11:33


ha ha. very funny. man i was bored off of my ass, lol. i called like two people. you and david. thats getting desperate. lol. i laugh
» Recentis on 2004-07-13 08:43:54

Yes you talent :)
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» Santiago (221.9.255.117) on 2010-09-03 01:55:57

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