Archive for the ‘Capturing the Word’ Category

Churches Are Businesses, So Tax Them   1 comment

George Carlin — Source: The Milwaukee Independent

“I don’t know how you feel, but I’m pretty sick of church people. You know what they ought to do with churches? Tax them. If holy people are so interested in politics, government, and public policy, let them pay the price of admission like everybody else. The Catholic Church alone could wipe out the national debt if all you did was tax their real estate.”

— George Carlin

Expectations: Tomorrow Is Not Promised   Leave a comment

Photo-Artistry by kenne

Expectations

Who are you,
you who share
my very existence
with your expectations,
sometimes calling them
traditions,
placing more value
on the worth
of your expectations,
unwilling to understand
neither the what
nor the why
of my very being.

Who am I,
I who share
your very existence
with my expectations,
sometimes calling them
logical
placing more value
on the worth of my expectations,
unwilling to understand
neither the what
nor the why
of your very being.

Who are we,
we who share
a finite existence
with our expectations,
sometimes calling them
unconditional
placing more value
on the worth of our expectations
unwilling to understand
neither the what
nor the why
of a finite being.

Who are they,
they who share
our very existence
with their expectations,
sometimes calling them
laws
placing more value
on the worth of their expectations
unwilling to understand
neither the what
nor the why
of our very being.

Who are We
We who share
an infinite existence
with our expectations,
sometimes calling them
spiritual
placing more value
on the worth of all expectations
willing to understand
both the what
and the why
of a universal being.

— kenne

(. . . He celebrates and spurns
His driftwood eighty-first wind turned age;
Herons spire and spear.*)

*Dylam Thomas, “Poem On His Birthday”

 

Garcia Lorca — Gacela of the Dark Death   Leave a comment

August 19th, 1936 — Federico García Lorca dies. Andalusian poet/dramatist/artist. Murdered by Franco’s fascists.
Accused of subversive activity, however evidence today suggests that it was a hate crime in response to his homosexuality.
His writings remained censored until Franco died in 1975. Despite this, Lorca became one of the
most widely read writers in the world.

Gacela of the Dark Death

I want to sleep the dream of the apples,
to withdraw from the tumult of cemeteries,
I want to sleep the dream of that child
who wanted to cut his heart on the high seas?
I don’t want to hear again that the dead do not lose their blood,
that the putrid mouth goes on asking for water.
I don’t want to learn of the tortures of the grass,
nor of the moon with a serpent’s mouth
that labors before dawn.
I want to sleep awhile,
awhile, a minute, a century;
but all must know that i have not died;
that there is a stable of gold in my lips;
that i am the small friend of the West wing;
that i am the intense shadow of my tears.
Cover me at dawn with a veil.
because dawn will throw fistfuls of ants at me.
and wet with hard water my shoes
so that the pincers of the scorpion slide.
For i want to sleep the dream of the apples,
to learn a lament that will cleanse me of the earth;
for i want to live with that dark child
who wanted to cut his heart on the high seas.

— Federico Garcia Lorca

Creosote Seed Pod   2 comments

Creosote Seed Pod — Image by kenne

If the blue sky is a fantasy,
what will become of innocence?
What will become of the heart
if Love has no arrows?

And if death is death,
what will become of poets?
and things in a cocoon
which no one remembers?
Oh sun of hopes!
Clear water! New moon!
Dull souls of stones!
Today I sense in my heart
a vague tremor of stars
and all roses are
as white as my sorrow.

— from Autumn Song by Federico García Lorca

Hutch’s Pool Panorama   Leave a comment

Hutch’s Pool — Two Images Merged in Photoshop by kenne (11/18/11)

Image by Phil Bentley as I Was Photographing Around Hutch’s Pool (11/13/15)

“A man who dares to waste one hour of time
has not discovered the value of life.”

― Charles Darwin,

Tribute to Victims of COVID-19   Leave a comment

“. . . and once more saw the stars.”

— from Inferno by Dante Alighieri

 

 

Memorial image created from the names of COVID-19 victims for #WeGrieveTogether.
— Image: Elizabeth Perez

Nais Metalmark   2 comments

Nais Metalmark Butterfly — Image by kenne

There are several species of small butterflies with an orange-brown base color, marked with black,
white and brighter orange. The metalmarks such as this one also have some metallic-looking specks
that are visible with changing light angle.

Follow The Narrow Trail   Leave a comment

Ned's Nature Walk -- 01-1-09-13Follow the Narrow Trail (The Tucson Mountains) — Image by kenne

No Name Trails

My trails don’t always have a name.
They are the ones on which I roam
Gathering new views to capture
Sharing with others who read books
And write poems on the earth and sky.

— kenne

 

Early Morning In Alamos, Sonora   2 comments

Alamos Street (1 of 1)-HDR blogEarly Morning Street Sence In Alamos, Sonora — HDR Image by kenne

Alamos, Sonora
7 a.m caught
the eye of
a lone dog
standing
at the door
patient 
Mexican dog
not one to
chase bikes
laying against
the sidewalk.

only a few
high clouds
add contrast
against the 
blue sky
behind me
a truck
rattles by
carts pushed
toward the
plaza
no one
sleeping
on benches 
like in America.

some Mexicans
sitting on the
church steps
born destined
to work in the
cathedral of toil
looking old at 21
a woman leaves
morning mess
still believing in
the Guadalupe lady
painted on velvet —
I shell paint
a velvet Elvis.

— kenne

 

50 Years Ago June 5, 1968, A Great American Was Assassinated   3 comments

50 Years Ago June 5, 1968 BULLETIN (AP)
(LOS ANGELES) – AN ASSAILANT – APPARENTLY STANDING AT POINT-BLANK RANGE GUNNED DOWN NEW YORK SENATOR ROBERT KENNEDY AND FOUR OR FIVE OTHER PERSONS EARLY TODAY IN LOS ANGELES.  KENNEDY HAD JUST CLAIMED VICTORY IN THE CALIFORNIA DEMOCRATIC PRESIDENTIAL RACE OVER SENATOR EUGENE MCCARTHY.  HE WAS STANDING IN AN ANTI-ROOM OF THE AMBASSADOR HOTEL WHEN THE GUNMAN CUT LOOSE WITH A VOLLEY OF SHOTS.  KENNEDY WAS SHOT IN THE HEAD – ALTHOUGH FIRST REPORTS SAID HE WAS SHOT IN THE HIP.

This is the actual copy from an AP Teletype machine just to the right of the one I was working in the STRACOM tech control room, Sukiran, Okinawa, 4:35 PM J.S.T., June 5, 1968.  Like many, I had been following the primary closer and was shocked by what I was reading.  A few hours later, the following came over the AP Teletype:

AP38
BULLETIN
LOS ANGELES – SENATOR KENNEDY DEAD. . .

AP38
MORE BULLETIN
AN AIDE OF THE NEW YORK SENATOR ANNOUNCED AT 5 A-M (EDT)
THAT KENNEDY DIED AT 1:40 A-M (PACIFIC TIME).
HE WAS 42 YEARS OLD.
WITH KENNEDY AT THE TIME OF HIS DEATH WAS HIS WIFE, ETHEL AND OTHER MEMBERS OF THE FAMILY

AP40
-CORRECTION–
KENNEDY DEATH AP38 MAKE TIME OF DEATH 1:44 (NOT 1:40).

R.F.K.    “Each time a man stands up for an ideal or acts to improve the lot of others. Or strikes out against injustice, he sends forth a tiny ripple of hope.”

“Whatever people may say and whatever history may write about Bobby, and whatever history may write about Bobby, he had a genuine compassion, a real love of people, humble people, poor people – I think the word now, is underprivileged people – not in a pompous or pedantic way, but genuine.” The words of former Prime Minister Harold Macmillan (74 at the time) have appeared on television

History shows that Richard Nixon went on to be elected president and we only speculate what the last forty years would have given us if Bobby Kennedy had been elected.  Would we have chosen faith in people over fear?  Would we have required sluggish bureaucracies to respond more rapidly to social needs?  The following is shared from June 14, 1968, Time Essay:

“John W. Gardner put it best at Cornell’s commencement earlier this month when he imagined himself as a 23rd-century thinker. He had discovered, he said, that ‘20th-century institutions were caught in a savage crossfire between uncritical lovers and unloving critics.  On the one side, those who loved their institutions tended to smother them in an embrace of death, loving their rigidities more than their promise, shielding them from life-giving criticism.  On the other side, there arose a breed of critics without love, skilled in demolition but untutored in the arts by which human institutions ate nurtured and strengthened and made to flourish.  Between the two, the institutions perished.”

Content in this posting first appeared on the 40th anniversary of his death. At that time I ended the posting with this:

“Now, forty years later Joy and I are getting ready to travel to Austin to attend the Texas Democratic Party Convention at another historical time in American political history.  Hopefully, this will in time be looked back upon as a time in our nation’s history when emotion conquered reason.” 

(The items contained in this posting are from scrapbooks I kept during 1967-68.)

— kenne

Cityscape — Mixed Media   1 comment

Vancouver Skyline (1 of 1)-2 Mixed Media blogCityscape — Mixed Media — Image by kenne

I am drifting as I listen to Purple Haze,
buildings reflect up from the water below.

Remember when we first saw the cityscape,
dreamy cosmic waves of mid-summer light?

Close your eyes, you will still see your body
drifting across the sky as the clouds move

through a matrix of lines and rainbow colors.
The edges of the skyline begin to drop as

the cityscape embraces and slowly enters
the maze of puzzles in the northern sky.

— kenne

East Texas Southern Magnolia   2 comments

Southern Magnolia Art DSC_2689 blogEast Texas Southern Magnolia — Image by kenne

Magnolias in My Blood

Now, everybody knows
I love the desert southwest
it’s tall saguaros and
sky island ponderosas — 
I found a home out here. 

Still, every once in a while
I need a fusion for my
born and bred
southeast blood —
magnolia blossoms will do.

— kenne

Windy Point Girl — Photo Essay   Leave a comment

Rock Climbing Mt LemonWindy Point Vista — Images by kenne

In August 2010 I took over 83 photos a young woman and two men climbing the rock spire at Windy Point Vista along Catalina Highway. It ended up being a fun unplanned project. I put a video together using the photos and also uploaded them to my Flickr account.

https://www.flickr.com/photos/kennetu/albums/72157624822900088

kenne

Climbing the Rock Spire at Windy Point Video

Here’s a link to a 360 view at Windy Point Vista:

https://www.360cities.net/image/windy-point-vista-tucson-az

Two Hairy Faced Men, Twits Not   2 comments

lummi-island-vancover_tom-kenne_0333-b-w-blogiiTom and Kenne Turner (October 2009)– Image by Joy

We are hairy men
who may be thought of a “Twit,”
but I dare say, are not.
Why you might ask?
If you  look closely, you will not see
tasty morsels in our beards,
while Twits upon close review
will have tiny little specks
of dried-up scrambled eggs.

So says Roald Dahl,
and he should know
of all the disgusting things
found in the beard of a twit,
but, no need to hold your noses.

So, what is it these hairy men
are trying to hide?
Is it an ugly face, you ask?
No, not really,
for we are two guys
possessing good thoughts,
which shone out of our faces
like sunbeams,
so we will always look lovely.

Again, Roald Dahl, should know:
‘If a person has ugly thoughts,
it begins to show on the face.
And when that person
has ugly thoughts every day,
every week, every year,
the face gets uglier and uglier
until it gets so ugly
you can hardly bear to look at it.’

Even so, on this sand grain day
in the bent bay’s grave
I celebrate and spurn
my driftwood seventy-sixth
wind turned age.

Yet, I remain steadfast
in Shakespeare’s fifth stage
in The Seven Stages of Man,
still acquiring wisdom,
enjoying the finer things in life
and remain very attentive of my appearance,
trying to live life to its fullest,
preparing for the final stages of life.
Shall seventy-six bells sing struck.

kenne

The above illustration is by Quentin Blake in Roald Dahl’s book, The Twits. Part of this posting contains copy from The Twits and  Dylan Thomas’ Poem On His Birthday.

I can’t let this pass without again sharing Dylan Thomas’ Poem On His Birthday.

Douglas Spring Trail Panorama   Leave a comment

Douglas Springs HikeDouglas Spring Trail Panorama Image by kenne

In the moment you feel a
belonging to an ancient time,
a time not seen, yet you feel it —

the dryness of a land
parched, dying of thirst. 
Soon the trail switches back

and forth around large boulders
where lizards live in the dust
sometimes seen atop a boulder

doing their daily pushups
in the bright sunlight
soon returning to a dark place.

Stand here in the moment,
take yourself down the trail
toward the distant mountains.

The trail is narrow and dusty,
so narrow there are hikers
in front of you and behind,

not to your side, this is not 
a shoulder to shoulder march,
this is a hike in single file.

Having entered this picture
you can stay till the poem ends 
and the magic fades away.

For me, the photographer,
a part of me remains
poised in the moment.

— kenne

 

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