Remembering Air Force Won

Remembering Air Force Won

Teleprompter on the fritz?
No problem! After all, you’re a president
with a very, very large brain.

Just ad lib. Name the army after George Washington.
Praise revolutionary patriots for taking over the airports.
After all, it’s only history.

And you’re (re)creating it every day.

Trump blames teleprompter for Revolutionary War ‘airports’ flub

President Trump cites China’s respect for his ‘very, very large brain’

American Tradition?

American Tradition?

Relocation of native populations.

Reservations.

Relocation in times of war.

Internment.

Relocation of detainees.

Presidential orders bordering on inhumanity.

Concentration camps.

There is nothing time honored about any of this.

Internment of undesirables, from Native Americans to Japanese Americans, was wrong, but that doesn’t mean the tradition doesn’t continue in the United States, as seen in the continued incarceration of detainees, particularly children at the US southern border, under conditions that are unacceptable and, more importantly, inhumane.

Image source: © Michael de Adder (Facebook)

 

Castle of Illusion ~ blackout poem

Castle of Illusion

Land and sites engaged the illusion,
made perfect the wholeness, hiding
hollowness. Empty windows watched,
the Ego isolated within, disturbed.
Cairn of ancestors, bitter wind,
vacant feel part of its landscape,
our own psyche apart from it.

This blackout poem is based on a post, Hunting the Unicorn: Shells and Fruits,
written by Sue Vincent and posted at The Silent Eye.  I encourage you to read it.
The image is an edited/layered version of  two of Sue’s photos.
~~ Thank you to Sue for her inspiration and for graciously accepting my offering. ~~

Shades of Gray ~ #writephoto

 

Shades of Gray

Let me in. Don’t let me in.
Door after door, opening,
leading ever deeper.
Questions within questions.
The light in your eyes
telling me to enter,
yet offering no answers.

Shadows, hints, that tell nothing,
yet say everything about you.
All of this leading nowhere.
Nothing, but the next,
and the next, each time
leaving little to hold onto
but shades of gray.

This is my response to Thursday Photo Prompt: Open #writephoto
at Sue Vincent’s Daily Echo, with her photo.

 

writephoto