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The Territory of the Little People - Storm Clouds Approaching

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  The Territory of the Little People - Storm Clouds Approaching The atmosphere over Pine Creek churns before it breaks. The sky stops being a distant ceiling, and tears open into a fevered, gestural vortex, churning in fierce ribbons of cadmium gold, raw ember, and bruised ink. Here, in the suffocating stillness of the build-up, the heat plays violent tricks on my inner eye. As the squall gathers, the twisting ironwoods and fractured ridges don't feel empty; they crawl with the uncanny belief of the Little People, low-slung, watchful phantoms spun from wire, red dust, and dry static, waiting out the road's fragility. Every jagged branch and swirling filament of cloud becomes a face, an arm, a sinister presence breathing inside the rising storm, drawing the traveller deeper into the delirium of the interior. Be Creative and Innovative with Knowledge John Bennett - AKA JJFBbennett , is an independent artist. You can view and subscribe to my work via  Blogger , YouTube , Fl...
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Celeste Seek Shelter Now

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Ordinarily, death seems out of reach
Never considering whether you are within reach
Protected by a ton of metal and plastic, by policy, law, and mother
So why do I want to watch
In awe in shock in the realization that you are soon to be dead

Knowing and  watching and doing nothing about it
The spectacle  that is breaking news

The adult I never thought I would be
Right here right now, wallowing within nihilist questioning
Questioning self
Is this the real?
Is this how I should feel?
Watching you die





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