Picture Perfect
Life...with Pictures...
Its how we feel the struggles of our late brothers,
Its how we take measures of ourselves and others.
With our eyes burning - seeing is not just believing, its learning,
Its turning the pages n wondering the thoughts we're solemnly earning.
The more pain we see the more generous our world becomes,
Imagine being a refugee amd seeing a point of view through guns.
The world can be a painful place, look deep into a haven waste
both scraping plate yet ones needs only to believe in saving grace..
A picture is worth a thousand words, I’m sure you heard it before,
But what if it could make people feel pain free of poverty n war?
What if pictures had the power to devour racism n stereotypes?
Make you feel the injustice of someone’s life…
.. make a deadbeat feel happiness the of coming home to a wife?
I leave it to scientist to dissect what a picture does to the brain,
But it’s on the photographer to make you feel the laughter or pain.
Tons choose to advertise yet not thinking of the consequential frame,
knowing that once exposed ur a sole purpose for someone elses' gain.
You cant put the importance of pictures through time up on a chart,
There is a direct line from photographs to the eye straight to your heart.
They have power to make you laugh, smile n sometimes weep,
It’s the excitement of finding images that can touch us deep.
The details and what not search beneath my rumblin’ rage,
My thoughts of vanilla pages, cage an infatuation with me for days.
Cross paths of - happiness and pain….
I cross the pain to over power happiness in a clutched fist with chains.
These subtle images mean a hidden message just to get you,
Feeling joyous and some times like an African native refuge.
What if these pictures we so harshly speak of,
Were the reason for the world to turn…..
….and for the facts to be covered up?
Or is it the reason for tears to be falling,
The change of seasons within the years or fear to be calling?
Maybe both but who knows just be yourself,
Time waits for the ones who return the favor so lend some help.
I sit on this dusty couch, slouched, heart rigid and shit,
Ear drums tired of the melody that comes from a screaming bitch.
Sometimes I wish to twist the neck off and split,
that’s just a thought….
…. same metaphor as a picture with a little twist in it.
When I get exposed, drunk and belligerent,
I take photos and do some crazy posses cause I don’t give a shit.
.
.
.
What a shame it is… for what I speak to be true,
so here is a picture of yesterday...
... was bored and didn't know what to do.
a really old verse just thought id share it