Posts Tagged ‘fight’

Yellowstone: Coyote Headshot

Friday, May 28th, 2010

This really is a case of saving the best for last. In February I went to Yellowstone on a photography mission where I followed coyotes, river otters, bison, elk, bighorn sheep and wolves for a week in the snow. I saved my best shot as a present for one of my very best friends. So here is the grand unveiling of my best shot: the coyote headshot.

I got this close up headshot of a coyote when we were driving along the road and happened upon a coyote trotting down the middle of the road.

We slowed down as he weaved in and out of the road. It almost seemed like he was trying to make sure we didn’t pass him. During this time I had whipped out the four hundred lens and was hanging out the window trying to get a good shot of him. It was painful and pretty ridiculous looking as we stopped and went; me being jerked around the whole time yelling at the driver to stop the car. Just in time, I got my shot.

He was beautiful but I could tell he had been in some sort of fight recently because his ear was bloody and gnarled. He had some mean scars on his muzzle as well. So that’s it, that raps up my Yellowstone trip finally, with my best shot of the trip.

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Black Striped

Sunday, January 31st, 2010

Here is an old poem I wrote, I definitely like free verse much better than rhyme schemes…

Black striped nails
Fox with nine tails
All our efforts fail
Time to let our dreams sail

Black striped claws
Staring calmly into the lion’s maw
Trying not to cry with a locked jaw
Forever remember the horrors you saw

Black striped hair
Leave behind those who care
Stepping off a cliff if you dare
Walking into darkness unless you’re scared

Black striped skin
The game you play but never win
Look at your face you’re guilty as sin
This is my hell go on jump in

I am black striped
I will always have to fight
I am the darkness inside of light
I am blind but do not lack sight

This story will end here tonight
I keep on fighting using all my might
Please hold on and squeeze my hand tight
This is going to be a very long night

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Posted in Poetry |

Rebel Children

Sunday, December 13th, 2009

Look into my eyes
Please tell me what you see
Do you know who I am
Or have you seen someone
Just like me
Standing in the background
With dark solemn eyes
We are the Rebel Children
Broken yet strong
We can be found everywhere
Or nowhere at all
We are the vacant eyes
Of a forsaken god
Always watching
But who sees nothing
And does nothing
Hollow and dark
We are the stain glass windows
Peering deep into your soul
We do not pass judgment
We are the just the eyes
Of a century
How foolish for anyone
To have ever believe
We as humans
Were the images of angels
We are god’s Rebel Children
Never what we are expected
To be in the end
We fight through silence
With our angry eyes
Cast not at heaven
But into the passersbys
God didn’t make us this way
We did
We are the rampant soul
Of a stubborn child
We want only what we do not have
And hate all else
The consumers and buyers
Burning a hole in your soul
Grinding in a cigarette butt
No chance for a fire ever again
Snuff out that spark of life
Leaving you in an eternity of darkness
That you yourself created
So empty and hollow
Just trying to fill that hole
The hole you burned
With your money and lies
With your jealousy and hate
Slowly destroying your life
We are the Rebel Children
Who just don’t belong
The ones who can’t sleep at night
But can’t ever really wake up
We are everything
And nothing at all

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Posted in Poetry |

Boy Soldier

Monday, November 30th, 2009

I wrote this poem in english class today, I think I like it. Not sure where it came from though.

The razor runs over the boy’s head
He doesn’t move or flinch
Just stares ahead into oblivion
With deadlocked eyes
Into a future of unknown miseries
With eyes held firm in a choice
He had no part in making
They shave his head
Put a warm gun in his hands
And teach him how to kill
Teach him to steal a life without remorse
They say Learn fast boy
Or get ready to die young
They smack him around
Take the boy’s soft exterior
And turn it into cold hard stone
Rip out his heart and memories
Of a time when safety was a given
And love was always near
Take all that he ever knew
And throw it away
The boy soldier hefts up his gun
His lips sealed and dead eyes
He has nothing left
But the eternal fight for his soul
Everyone runs from him
Like he is a monster
Because he is a monster
One they made him into
Ripped him from his home
And gave him hate
To battle an unknown enemy
There is no escape for him
Just a bloody sentence
That he has no choice but to accept
They label him and fear all like him
And run at the sight of his gun
Run they yell
It is the boy soldier come home again
But he won’t let it continue
As he stands over the body
Of a little girl the same age as him
A bullet in her chest
Blood blooming on her white dress
Like a ruby flower blooming
A bullet he shot from his gun
The tip of the gun digs into the earth
As he falls to his knees beside her
He grips the dusty earth
As he watches the last breathes
Leave the dying angel
Look how far he has fallen
And for what, for whom
No more he swears to the dry earth
No more blood
He turns the gun around
In his rough scarred hands
Covered in dust and blood
They belong to an old man
Not a twelve-year-old boy
He put the gun to his head
And pulled the trigger
That he was taught to pull
One more time
The boy soldier fell
Next to the dead angel girl
There will be no more wars
For this tortured soul
No more rivers of blood
Just the peace he never had
But always deserved

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