some things look so good in colour, and sometimes greytones make music forever in our thirsty souls. this land rose up, millions of years ago. a glacial lake transformed from solid to cold water, and burst its banks making a sudden river, rushing roaring torrent nightmare all day long, maybe a thousand years eroding this sculpted river valley. now we are witness to the aftermath, this sculpted landscape.
the tired old man lived there long years, while the paint faded and the roof rotted. then he moved on, he needed help, and tried a realtor, but gave up after a wretched while, who took his sign, because there was no longer anyone to deal with. and the old shack began its return to mother earth.
from here it looks so different, and it seems like another world, a wonder. someone thought its name might frighten tourists. so they put a different name on the map. local people laugh about it. they know that rattlesnakes are native too. they are not overly sensitive about it. and if tourists are too scarey, a good bite might set things right!
i heard it said tree heliotrope is throughout much of oceana. so many places i have not been! toxic, they say, in large amounts. nobody would eat that much. crooked branches. who could build with such tangled wood as that? but trees like this are fine, so fine, for creating shade beneath a south pacific sun.
white coral sand, wet black lava, tropical seas, the summery sky! every day seems a wonderful dream. we eat shave ice but not much ice cream. a secret beach seems such an idea! down a private road, (we asked the young guard for access, quickly granted) we were on our way. a narrow road on white coral sand, a gift from the bowels of many parrotfish, and we are grateful. a wonderful uncrowded beach. we carried on, to welcome shade beneath hot sunny skies. in black and white, feeling, no surprise.
black is white, they want to tell me. i won't make that mistake really soon. but they count on me and you, to believe the nonsense that they spew. angry at us when we won't swallow all the muck, in which they wallow. i might like a soapbox too, to stand on and shout out what's true. black is black and white is white, may they always meet! wrong is wrong; right is right, we must be careful. darkness may swallow up the light. when we see the shadows coming close, shout danger, danger, danger! push those shadows back to dusty corners in evil minds.
Black and White #27 some things need to be black and white, not skin colour, everyone, you are my brother (sister) and i know you you are another me. this black and white i mean is good and evil. the politics of selfishness oppose kindness and fair play. horrible old men want to be dictators, to invalidate elections, and attack democracy, and seize power. evil is as evil does. i may be blunt, stating an opinion. dictators are badly behaved sewer rats. in other words: our brothers...
heading for oblivion, we race along a lonely highway. why do we smile? fools have no wings, reaching for the sun, an old broken chariot, swinging across a summer sky. we look for safety, and it still eludes us; we are so reckless. colours fade in our eyes just before darkness comes. we are left with black and white and shadows. i look south along the lake remembering my little dog, enthusiastic hiking friend when i see this photograph. i guess he saw no colour. his foolishness was limited to trusting me. we have no limit.
memory loses bright colours, before they fade away to nothing as they will... vivid tones and hues create questionable drama. memory loses bright colours, before they fade away to nothing as they will... we wonder if false drama is required to satisfy fools. memory loses bright colours, before they fade away to nothing as they will...
i met a man who could not see any colour. though i love to see colour, i didn't pity; the man with no colour was good as any. he lived his way, making this world his own. he wasn't disabled in any way. nobody knows what other senses he may have had. he wasn't talking about such things. perhaps there is no way to speak of unshared visions. we all walk alone.