Art and the philosophy of life

Posts tagged ‘Sometimes…’

Sometimes…

man in gray t-shirt and gray pants walking on gray concrete pavement

Sometimes
the artist
becomes
the art

 

Photo:  Juhø Man
Unsplash

Sometimes…

Tv, Photoshop, Image Editing, Woman

sometimes
new technology
can go a bit
too far

Sometimes…

Fantasy, Portal, Goal, Light, Girl

sometimes
going from one place
to another
is easier
than we think
once we learn
how to do it

Sometimes…

Pair, Couple, Togetherness, Together, Connectedness

sometimes
when a person is gone
FOREVER
you can still feel
HIM
next to you
and you listen
for his
VOICE
but all you ever really hear
is
SILENCE

Sometimes…a poem

Lightning, Thunder, Lightning Storm

sometimes
I feel as if we’re all simply here
riding out the
storm

Sometimes…

Anxiety, Fear, Mystic, Mystery, Ghost

sometimes
I think the veil between
worlds
and time
is elastic
closer than we think
we touch it often
without knowing it
the film between
the living and the dead
is thin
the space between past
present
and future
is also thin
it’s possible
that
with different senses
we could breakthrough
the veils
we could see into
different dimensions
worlds
and times
but we are
forbidden to cross
by our own bodies
and what they can
and can not do
we remain caged
in our specific reality
with no hope of
traveling through
time
or space
all because of a technicality

Sometimes…poem

sometimes
if
you
stand
back
far
enough
you
can
see
that
the
earth
is
just
a
game
that
runs
24
hours
a
day

you
can
watch
the
characters
and
players
scurry
fall
and
do
whatever
the
gamers
want
them
to
do
without
ever
slowing
down

that’s
all
life
is

but
in
order
to
see
that

you
have
to
stand
back
really
far

Sometimes…

sometimes
I
wonder
if
I’m
in
Jane
Austen’s
time
in
the
future
or
somewhere
in
between

 

books
take
me
places
and
then
leave
me
there
to
find
my
way
home

alone

Sometimes…

sometimes
all
I
want
to
do
is
draw
or
paint
or
read
or
eat
ice
cream
but
I
never
stop
writing
for
if
I
did
I
know
that
I
would
surely
die

 
I
wouldn’t
be
able
to
live
without
a
way
to
give
the
millions
of
ideas
in
my
head
a
place
to
go

Sometimes…

sometimes
I
miss
the
sound
of
old-fashion
typewriter
keys
tapping
on
snow
white
paper
with
carbon
paper
in
between
the
pages

 

just
sometimes

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