Poetry: A Short Fuse

The light shines on my deck as I start riding.

'Sprouted ramose from earth and formed real fine,

For my delight.

It leads me places on its wondrous wheels.

And like the skies and seas it fashions me

To feel all things.

Contrast to your caging, baleful, snapping screen,

The tree with wheels's no master, but a friend,

So green and Real.

To swim and feel like flowing liquid forms

A better branch, more stalwart than your wire.

You'll look deformed.

Photography: Up?

Continuing my works on our "better, advanced generation." I have taken an interest in this topic, and so you can expect to see many more poems, pictures, essays, and maybe even a short story on this subject.

For more, check out my posts "Poem: Growing" and "Criticism: Limitations and Modifications--An Argument Against Video Games."

Poem: Growing

A poem I wrote for all of our advancements on the earth. After all our hard work, will our "complicated" machines ever have either the complexity or beauty of nature?

Keep building,
But will your makings ever be
As beautiful as buds blooming
Fresh and pink on green trees?

Keep moving,
But will you ever reach when your
Houses sprout up from the ground?
Beauty where your hands aren't found.

Keep bragging,
Behold your sweat-and-tear-built structures,
Advanced in every theoretic best,
Built on never-worked-for earth.