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Photography,
Photo journalistic,
Everyday, realistic.

Commercial, architecture, landscape, artistic,
Industrial, fashion, ethnographic, pornographic.

Big Brother, fallace, stealer of souls, vouyer.
News seller, instant gratifier, man pleaser, woman abuser.

Barthes, Sontag, Cindy Sherman,
Virginia Woolf, Warhol. Weegie, Francesca Woodman,
Leibovitz, Adams, Arbus, Tina Modotti,
Nan, Evans, Hoffer and even the Paparazzi.

Cheap *****, digital manipulator, image poser,
Center fold, coupons, Jackie O and Marilyn Monroe.
Where did they go:

Lifeless paper product, painter's picture mess,
C-type, digital archival,
Sepia, black and white, hard drive retrival.

Image addict,
Image taker,
Image maker,
image seller,
image buyer.

Newspaper, magazine, graphics and ads,
TV, dreams, even the trash.

Billboards, subways, phones and buses:

Utopia:
Surreal, crop, stretched and air brushes.

Modern ideal.
Surface manipulator.
Brain conditioner.
Consent manufacturer.

Oh Photography,
I got you in my eye.
A few thousand dollars,
A BFA, A critical scholar.

Or maybe a nerd,
Just boys with toys.
Telephoto genitals, with motor drive action.
Studio lights, umbrella traction.

Oh Photography,
You proprietor of obscene.
Detailed, de-sensitized.
Court ordered, jury analyzed.

Click, image, copy, edit, paste, print or post.
Myfacespace, twitter, flicker,
An internet media overdose.

Pry, spy, your friend's friend's acquaintances.
Parties, picnics, reunions and shows.
Visits, vacation, style, shoes and clothes.


Pics, photos, images, jpegs and giffs.
Snap shot, portrait, panoramic, Kodak kiss.

Exacerbate:
Divorce, break-ups, jealousy, envy, love and fears.
Devour and captivate society for years.

Slaves to Western and Capitalist desires,
Destruction of Earth with psychological, monetary empires.
Jeremy Betts Feb 2018
{Political}

Just look around you and you'll notice that every day there's another suucker born
Another mother fuucker trying to pick around the thorn
But there'll never be breath blown through the victory horn and there won't be one to worn
Cause the new norm is news meant to deform not to inform
Leaving only torn fragments of real mixed with lies, a new truth is born
And it's one that defies the meaning of truth so it's armor for our thoughts and soul that must be worn

Cause it's forced upon every sense, attached to ignorance, illegal for an opinion to be drawn
It's a new dawn where rational thinking is gone, new laws signed in crayon
And it doesn't matter what paawn gets passed the baton when an election comes along
Cause it was years ago that this corruption spawn with a freedom slogan button on
And it's the divide that's grown from a line to a deep chasm of a wide canyon
That'll be our legacy, the legend we pass on till we feel defeat and meet the same demise that fell upon Krypton

It's crazy how we as a society love to single out one to staple blame on, makes it simple
But every man that's held an oval as his office might as well have been a floating carcass, dead in the water from the get go
Don't just agree cause I said so, that's half the problem yo, go do your own research bro
And know that they fear intelligence so go gather up a couple library's full
And don't jump in half cockeed like you only got one teesticle
Give it your all, fuuck being humble, we keep this shiit up we're all in fuuckin trouble
So burst this bubble, let it trasnform to rubble, forget being subtle
It's time to break huddle and be a factor in this much needed rebuttal
Screamed in the face paced on this ancient government scandal

But fuuck it. I'm only one person and not the one to change it cause I'm not perfect
But my imperfectly perfect plan sits perched in dust, never to be touched like it's deadly sick
Like a dripping diick, you pretend you don't have it 'til the graphic turns horrific
Then they say it's fake news but you're looking at the problem, starring derectly at it
But it's me that's ignorant and insignificant? I see it different you one percenter priick

I have a thought, just a notion, top of my head, tell me what you think
How long can we survive on the brink? On a doomed vessel destined to sink?
Holding the knowledge of where the boat is weak
Have known about the leak but putting off repairs till a metaphorical next week
We can see the old, rusty chain of command, it's obvious who's the weakest link
But if we the people aren't in sync (bye bye bye) we're all gonna drown in the drink
The spiked flavor-aid is laid out just waiting for evil to speak then give a sly wink
The nod to give the go-ahead once we're in to deep, swerling round the bottom of the sink

But there's more of us then them so I say we push back
Take the power that we hold off the rack, grow a pair of metaphorical baalls in a metaphorical nuut sack and attack
Put on Hatebreed as the soundtrack and dish out some payback
This is a call to all who can't just lay back like seats in a Maybach and watch the train skip off track
You don't need an almanac to predict this fact, the shiit storm is here, lead by a maniac
And if we don't take our country back then it's our fault, not theirs, that the future seems bleak and black
Let that neat little fact sink in and fill the crack like plaque stacked from years of no contact
Then get back to me when you see clearly that the peace tready that was eagerly signed so freely is actually a death contact

You can't dispute that once you've read the small print on the back of this sinister, sell your soul type contract
Gotta realize we've given to much slack but we do hold the rains, we must pull back
But mustn't hold back, can't afford to hoard the ball and record a sac
It's already fourth down and forever, standing in our own in zone taking the snap
A hail Mary is our only hope, but it might be crazy enough to be the key to the exact play we need to get the lead back
We lose this game and that's it, no respawn, no next season to fall back on, blap, extinction just like that
But fuuck that shiit Jack, I'll fight till my last breath escapes me, I ain't going out like that
Can't give up with my back turned to a population under attack
Cowering in a ransacked bomb shelter resembling the shrieking shack
Can't do it, no matter our differences no one deserves that
But I'm going to need all the help I can get to keep this flaming wreckage off the tarmac

So please, as soon as the Kodak filters been lifted and you see the mess that we've been gifted
You'll come join the million other kindred spirits that have enlisted
No longer tainted by politicians political poison, no longer frightened
Instead, an ability to sift through the ******* has been heightened
No blinders, just enlightened, a vision readjusted, a true path brightened
Natural senses sharpened like a tack then augmented, now you look frightened
All ready to attack and take our lives back, combat tested
And mother approved, well connected, you've been vetted
And we've all come to the conclusion that it's time this reign of terror ended
Way past time for this regime to be upended
Quickly removed and  permanently suspended
Only then can we drop the act, no longer a need to pretend we're not wounded
Only then can we be on the mend and begin the healin'

©2018
Itaas na ang bandera at iwagayway
Iharap pababa sa mga naglulupasay

Dito magsisimula
Ang pagkuha ng retrato
Dito magsisimula
Ang pagkuha ng “selfie”

Sa pagtunog ng isang “click”
Ay makukuha ang atensyon mo,
Maaaliw ka,
Mabibighani’t mapapatingin
At tila pag kumukuha ka ng retrato
Ay ikaw ang pinakamaganda
Sa naglalakihang lente na nasa screen

Sa pagtunog ng isang “click”
Ay mapapangiti ka
Photogenic daw, ika nga
At sa pagkatapos lagi ng mga ito
Ay mawawala nalang bigla
Na tila nagsusuot ka ng antipas
Tuwing nakangiti nagpapakuha ng retrato

Sa pagtunog ng isang “click”
Ay mag aayos ka
Magpapagwapo’t magpapaganda
At tila isa itong contest
At kailangan ikaw ang pinakamaganda
At sa pagkatapos nito
Ay titignan mo kung nadaig mo ba sila

Ngunit bakit ikaw na hindi naman kumukuha ng retrato
Ay tila nagiging isang kodak o kamera

Na sa tuwing tumitingin ako sayo ay tila makukuhanan ako ng retrato
Na tuwing nakikita kita, wala mang click, ay titingin ako sa mga mata mo na tila lente ng kamera

Sa paglapit mo saakin
Ay makukuha mo ang atensyon ko,
Maaaliw ako, mabibighani’t mapapatingin
At tila pag kasama kita
Ay wala akong mahiling
Kundi ang patigilin ang oras
Para manatili sa piling mo

Ngunit bakit kapag nasa iyo ang atensyon ko
Ikaw ay nakatingin naman sa iba
Hindi ang pagiging nandito ko ang tumatakbo
Sa munting isip mo, kundi siya

Sa paglapit mo saakin
Ay mag aayos akong bigla
Magpapagwapo o magpapaganda
At tila isa itong contest  
Na kailangan madaig ko siya
Pero parang hindi ko kaya

Dahil kahit kailan hindi ko madadaig siya
At kahit na gaano mo pa ako lapitan
Siya parin ang magiging malapit dahil sa kariktan
At ako ay maiiwan sa alon ng pag-iisa

Sa paglapit mo saakin
Ay mapapangiti ako
Lalabas ang mga ngipin
Na tila nasa isang patalastas ako ng colgate
Ngingiti
At ngingiti lang

Ngunit sa likod ng mga ngiting ito
Ang tinatago ko ay luha

Mga luha na hindi ko ninanais na makita mo
Sanhi ng simula mo ‘kong paasahin

Mga luha na pinili kong itago mula sa’yo
Dahil alam ko rin naman na hindi mo ito papansinin

Hindi ka naman kodak na itinataas ko
Ngunit bakit pakiramdam ko ay nakatingin ka saakin pababa
Habang ako’y nasasaktan at nagluluksa

At sa pagtapos ko ng piyesang ito
Ang tanging hiling ko lamang ay
Mga retrato na maaaring itabi
Dahil nag uumapaw na ang mga mata kong gusto nang matuyo

Itaas na ang bandera at iwagayway
Iharap pababa sa mga naglulupasay

Dito magtatapos
Ang pagkuha ng retrato
Dito magtatapos
Ang pagkuha ng “selfie”
This  poem is meant to be spoken
Dark n Beautiful Jun 2015
Death leaves a heartache no one can heal,
Love leaves a memory no one can steal. ~ Author Unknown
~~~~~~~~~~~
It rain heavily on the river in Kerala the next morning
I think it was a sign of things to come,
I remember our walks by the water

The warmth of the sun as it dampen your hair
this brought out your winsome boyish smile
as you playfully tossed a small pebble into the water
It became an instant Kodak moment for years to come:
We were so in love with nature that summer

I remember every moment how we held each other hands
Your loving touch, your kiss, your blue eyes
So trustworthy was I: Your lies were accumulating.
and my foolish heart was pumping harder and harder

Like a gallon of water in the desert heat: you made me fell in love with you
your love for me was like a battlefield and I were the unexpected enemy

I am still very fond of my captor, I smile from ear to ear- each time it rain heavily in Kerala
If you know your enemies and know yourself then you are on top of things:

Until death leaves a headache no one can heal: Quote:
And love no matter what: leaves lasting memories.
Jude kyrie Sep 2015
Lost in the aftermath of heartache.
Changes I did not ask for or want.
You are just a part of the change now.
I still  had pictures of us on the walls.
Held in with colored thumbtacks.
We were drinking flutes of champagne.
At a café by the Seine in Paris.
They are all pictures taken with Kodak film
from a lost long ago time.
But I kept them.
Even after you left me,
I still kept them.
Sometimes,
I pull out an old Vinyl album
Sinatra sings our song,
“The summer wind.”
I dance as though
you are close in my arms.
Yes I am drinking again
why the hell not.
One morning I was lay
at the bottom of the stairs.
A bottle of whisky
spilled all around me.
Our friends found me
They tore down
all my old pictures of us,
and ripped them into pieces.
I had been told you were remarried
to someone other than me.
I threw the torn pictures
into my fireplace.
And lit them using my whisky
as an accelerant.
It should have taught me a life lesson.
That holding onto the past is unhealthy.
But instead I burnt my hands
putting the fire out.
I was not ready
to let them burn to ashes.
Not quite now.
Not just yet.
bucky Sep 2014
she told me that this is what it was like to be a firestorm,and i believed her.youre not golden sweetheart,
none of us are.we're not meant to look nice.
this is for our eyes only.dont look me in the eyes
and pretend that you dont know what i mean
take me to the cathedral pour holy water over my shivering shaking bones
build a baby grand out of my corpse,honey,its the only one ive got.
dont pretend you dont feel it too
and even if ill never be as romantic as you,at least ill try
at least i wont leave you here
gasoline on pavement,dying the only way you know how
they told me i could be anything i wanted so i turned myself into a gun,
hollow like your stomach when all youve had to eat the past three days is stale ******* bread.
dont look at me like that.
i know all of your secrets and youre the one still forgetting about my jaw,the one you broke.
i see it in your eyes.we both know how this ends
but I wont pull the trigger on heartbreak hills
not until theres more whiskey than broomsticks beating us ******
cigarette **** wrists against a concrete wall,you always were one for a metaphor werent you?
jesus,babe you look so beautiful in this light.would you let me take your picture with the old kodak we pretend doesnt exist?
im sorry if this is forward of me,but i think id like it if you dug bruises
into my throat
loving the only way you know how,and this isnt the kind of love you see in movies
cause its not really love when neither of you can stop chainsmoking for a ******* second
to look at the way the sun glints off hair at just the right time.
maybe if i had sinners hips youd kiss me,just the way i like
too much,all at once.this,you say,
this is what its like to be a firestorm.
we tell people we're just close friends,like in the way real people are close friends,
we tell people that the bruises on both our mouths are just from the red wine,silly,isnt it obvious?
the train station is too crowded.im fidgety
and the woman in the dress sitting next to me is reading a newspaper article about string theory
i wonder if it tells her about the way i sewed my mouth shut one winter
(or maybe that was you.whatever.its the same ******* thing anyway,isnt it,you say.stop ******* smiling at me like that.you know its not funny)
i wonder if she knows that the needle does not have to be very sharp to pierce the skin.
lesson one:stop pretending that youre the dragon.
lesson two:god.god.god youre ******* annoying.cant you keep your ******* mouth shut?i told you not to tell anyone,you ******* *******.if you show up outside my house again ill **** you.
dont leave someone voicemails after they leave you for the subway station. they will not reply.
this is normal.
you called me a narcissistic ***** and i think you were right but at least i think im worth something,right?at least i havent given up on my collarbones,thrown
them away like they're ******* trash.but what i mean to say is,
at least im not like you.at least i dont have a scar on my upper lip.
stop telling me that the ******* is a ******* metaphor,
this isnt a novel and im not a vampire
and last time i checked your eyes were brown,not black.youre not a monster so stop trying to be one.
the woman sitting next to me on the airplane wont stop reciting bible verses but i dont feel any more holy than i did three hours ago.
this isnt a ******* contest.you cant compete with someone to be the most ****** up,god whats wrong with you
havent you read about cain and abel
this will end the only way it possibly can
stop hanging grave markers on walls,cant you see the marks on your fingers
this isnt a ballad for a dead man and i dont mean to be condescending
but i like the way you kiss people,ten days after the time of death
and maybe ive left you too many voicemails at three in the morning
and maybe i stained your pillowcase with whiskey and secrets
but listen up,honey,you need me more than i need you
dont lie to me,you know its true
youre lying down at the bottom of the gymnasium swimming pool
and somehow youve managed to find comfort in it
dear reader:im sorry.im sorry about the mixtapes,okay,you were never supposed to find them and-and ****,ive messed everything up.bye.see you soon,
i guess.
i am feel uncomfortable when we are not about me?
Stephan Jul 2016
.

I don’t recognize my footprints anymore,
flashcubes and Kodak moments
distort my sight, blinding so  
I barely recognize my name,
as if anyone might call
on the gusts of barren life which hit me full force

Lost in a silent thought  
bouncing from shutter to shutter
blistering paint and chipping sorrows
outside the windows, smeared in tears
now resting on dampened sills
reflecting negative images, as I stare

Photographic headlines swing on wire fences
twisted around overexposed dreams,
rusting in the rain, falling piece by tiny piece
until words read like fragmented sentences
in amber speckles on the walk,  
asking me to believe

A three legged cat begs for a mouse,
yet the only thing held in this trap is me,
a rat in poetic clothing
as Tripod claws at my leathered skin
trying to erase the scars, captured in the lens
which mocks me – say cheese
A flashcube was an attachment used on a Kodak instamatic camera to create four consectutive flashes for photography. I'll tell you what an instamatic is next time. : )
And, the cat's name is Tripod because he only has three legs, duh. :)
Waverly Nov 2011
"Have you talked to dad,
since you've been at school?"

"Nope."

"Are you coming home
for thanksgiving?"

"I don't know."

Josephina
breathes in a crackle
over the phone.

New York,
a cacophony
in the background.

A background of cold,
and
people talking
while walking
while hailing a yellowcab with a left
and slow-rolling heads locked
onto the phones in their right.

These people enter taxis,
not knowing if they're ever
going to reach home,
or the airport,
or union square,
just going
on the promise
that they won't become
road-****.

I can't feel it in my yellow apartment.

If anything,
my yellowcab
idles.

Through the receiver

A squad car
rings nervously,
then
after a lungful
of garbage-smelling air,
it becomes a full blare.

A pause
of
noise
always ensues,
just for a second,
the entire corner
becomes a silent silo
of human beings.

"How's new york?"

"you know,
dad called me
and asked about
how to get on a diet,
can you believe that?"

Yes,
I can
dad is a fat ****,
a pink, white belly
of a man. And a few
sandbags for chins.

"That's good."

"So I'm not going to see you?"

"Probably not."

"Well, you should call dad,
talk to him,
he loves
you."

Some conversations,
acheive nothing.

The same
tired, dead things
get run over.

Road-****.

Josephina believes she is the spatula
that will bring back
pancake squirrels
and
pancake relationships.

As much as you don't know
about me and dad's relationship,
I can give you a kodak moment.

A snapshot,

of a hovering man,
pointing at his son's neck,
searching for the misplaced vertebrae,
the lack
of fear for the world
--"the right kind of fear,
the fear a man
should have
of himself"--
and a son,
hunched,
small hands in fists,
a heavy haul of muscles
pulled into a dark brow
right over black eyes.

This picture
will suffice.
there's too much to this poem. Sorry if it loses you in places.
kaycog  Feb 2017
kodak
kaycog Feb 2017
I want to see the color of your tomorrow
devour the taste of your daylight
in the 3pm glowing gold
of waning afternoon hours
I want your days
the springtime on your calendar
during early mornings
of kodak moments
worth retelling
I want your lunch breaks
to last for decades
never surrendering to the second shift
I want your sunsets to be infinite
for the sun to play hide and seek
with an ever hidden moon
where stars will never be seen
and darkness will never come
I want your first half
the promising twelve of twenty four
meaningful sections of time
that only go on
but I want that time to linger
like the trail of silver
silk worms leave behind
when its over
Searich  Jan 2012
Sandcastles
Searich Jan 2012
Looking at my album,
Of a picture taken,
Long ago built,
Sandcastles,
Made from child dreams,
Of sand and water,
On a shore play day,
Using hand shovel and bucket,
Scooping sand,
Mixing with water,
Hands molding,
A child’s fort takes place,
With dreams of fierce battles,
Slowly afternoon tide comes in,
Washing against castle walls,
Reclaiming its precious sand,
Waves invade,
Hand prints disappear,
Molded mounds fall,
Those castle forms disappear,
Soon they become just a memory,
Forever caught,
In a Kodak moment,
Have you ever made a sandcastle?
Jude kyrie Sep 2015
A Kodak Moment


*Echoes of you reverberate
In our now silent house.
Minutes crawl like hours
since I lost you.

Your pipe and book
still sitting by your chair.
Our old wedding album
Is open in front of me.

It was so long ago...so very long ago.
Yet the years ran by us like a deer.
I hold your old sweater to my breast
Reaching for you as I always did.

I thread the old celluloid film
onto the wheels of  the ancient projector.
It flickers and whirs
As you are resurrected once more
Splendid and handsome
in your wedding tux.
I stand beside you
Your young bride in white.
You say to God
I do.
Repeating out loud
my old nuptual vow
I whisper softly
I do... too honey.
Kitty Kroger Aug 2016
What a relief to set aside
my mechanical pencil
and write with you,
O Ballpoint Pen
found at the bottom of my pen box.

On your side is engraved
“Samy’s Camera.”
Did I walk out with you by accident?
or was it on purpose,
beguiled by your sleek, cool body
as you nestled into my hand
and I clasped you tight
likw my boyfriend in a steamy nightclub
dancing slow to Moon River.

Was I writing a check for
a roll of Kodak film,
ASA 400?
Or was it more recent?
Purchasing a digital mini-camera
to carry in my purse?
Before cellphones took selfies so flawlessly
that I tucked my Sony
into the dresser drawer
behind my underwear.
It lies abandoned
soon to be joined by all my
mechanical pencils.

You, my Pen, are my reliable companion
who will record lists for me:
To Do lists
Shopping lists
Birthday lists
Laundry lists.
You will record why my lover
doesn't want me anymore, but
I will tear up that scrap of paper
as soon as the ink has dried like blood,
that heartless man,
unworthy of the ink I waste on him.

O beautiful Pen,
sleek as the fur on a cat,
smooth as a gin and tonic,
solid as his hand on my breast.
for merely.

I hereby relinquish my mechanical pencil,
whose lead keeps shattering.
But you, dear Ballpoint Pen, I can press hard.
And how much more beautiful
with you
are the curves of my words.
Sora May 2013
I am from blades,
from Monster and Kodiak.
I am from the twilight skies on my rooftop.
Angled, Dangerous.
echoing low noftes bellow in the valley where I lay in pieces.
I am from the petals of the Oriental Cherries,
the eroded shoreline
that once safe sanctuary turned
to the eye of the hurricane

I'm from locking myself away from the arguements and
decorating my sister's grave with withered roses,
from Danielle and Grant.
I'm from the rip tides of grief and regret that follows my father,
and the lonesome, aged embrace of my brother,
from everything happens for a reason and
just keep fighting and maybe we'll be alright.
I'm from scorched dreams
And they've kept me afloat long enough
for me to locate and touch down in the shallows.

I'm from Irish, obvioulsy more then tipsy grandparents,
maple syrup rolls and Kool-Aid packets.
From the unfortunate instability of my brother's mountain bike
the speckled, flexed "glass" skin that holds my grandmothers spirit.

Tangled amongst the stinging nettles
Searing away all my past regrets
My background shocks my ground
Raising my cracked, frayed spirits to my spot that's atop the rooftop,
Getting lost in the city of constellations
I come from uncertain outcomes and fatally close calls.
School assignment inspired by a song and memories.
Thanks to my best friend, it's only a close call, not the end.

— The End —