All dreams are worth chasing. Something big, what follows is generations of art, in this case photography. In the grand adventure that is life there is no shortage of beauty or adventure. If their is a rose growing in the crack of the side walk or a coyote in the dessert you will find it here. Prints Available.
Were not Broken Down Were just Broke
On this journey
I burst out of the trolley bottled water in tow
By the time I took to running I saw the spotlight on her back
There was thunderstorm and lighting and the bull was on our ass
The yard crew shouted strangers as blue lights flashed
So we found ourselves a bush and hid till the Dawn crawled past
I might not be first but I sure wont finish last
Roots have no shelter for us we drift on the wind like the dandelion
Well have to hitch out with dogs and decks
Just like Benjamin Todd its Kinda odd
Where not lost where just Loosin again
No Matter where our travels take us The People will be with us.
Flowers for Afghanistan
My Dear Child,
for every man who says the shortest distance
between two opinions is violence and war,
there you are
caught in the firestorm,
a brother or sister in tears,
a family is torn,
Always know that though you are gone
your memory remains to sow the seeds of a better tomorrow
With hearts filled with sorrow
The fathers and mothers
Left only,
a charred corpse
The sisters and brothers
Left only.
a tarnished photograph,
We come to you, oh masters of men
the machine generations the
warriors of wealth
left with virtue stripped
We come
not with a war cry
but with a grief-stricken plea
for all the generations to come
the lost children
and those who are here
please turn off the machine
turn off the bombs
the appointed judges
the factories of suffering
prisons and police
politicians generals
to those who stand silently for the
holocaust, we the people of the world beg
return our future to our children
and know
Know this, my dear child,
Someday.
Someway the ocean of tears
will flood even the highest tower,
Our cries will
Be heard from the highest mountain,
and when,
Our tears soak
the flowers upon your graves
From the seeds of these flowers
Your revolution will bloom
