Grace M. Ballentine (American, 1881-1978), Morning Mist, ca. 1948. Gelatin silver print. Smithsonian American Art Museum. Thank you arsvitaest.
(via beingblog)
#XXLFRESHMAN #47GOONZ
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What I’ve been working on #abstract #art
Ya boy 4,310 ft in the sky
#kingrememberedintime Tour
Conviction
Standing atop the judding peaks of the mountains of existence/
yes these unsurpassable ever so moving heights of infinite life/
in any form or type bounded by the constrictions of time/
but if I told you forever is for forever that would surely be a lie/
see my heart is filled with the sadness of conviction that could make a thousand hearts cry/
if I told you forever is forever it would have to be the truth/
but I cannot stand here and tell you why the sky outside is blue/
well, maybe I can but that’s way beside from you/ and me and well, everybody/
see I only exist to convey nothing but these visions from this clear crystal glass/
and at times I might look away and repeat decisions of the past/
but another look at history tells us its these things we look past/
I only seek to bring you truth in its most truest form/
and provide the comfort of a sunset even in the bluest storms/
or for that matter the reddest/
but I’m sure for evermore that you understand I mean a tempest/
and that the philosophical feel of my approach is relentless/
when compared to the appeal of my convictions/ yes that’s the word/ conviction/
I am a man of my convictions/
please/
take me as I am with no confliction/
-Jose A. Ortiz Jr.
NEW SONG “DVR” Jose Ortiz Ft. Jorge Arango Check it out ! Show love & Support !
I still feel that poetry is not medicine — it’s an X-ray. It helps you see the wound and understand it. We all feel alienated because of this continuous violence in the world. We feel alone, but we feel also together. So we resort to poetry as a possibility for survival.
—Dunya Mikhail (via awritersruminations)
i'm off into the great perhaps: the dreamers
The inability to initiate anything runs in the family. We’re masters of continuity, protectors of empty traditions. The characteristics of each generation trickle down to us: the mad one, the thief, the poet, and the drunk. We are all Sisyphus, doomed to a cyclical fate, weighed down by the…
