Tag Archives: poetry

Where the trees are more important than the sidewalks.
Look what a tree can do in a lifetime.
There is something inside all of us that tells us we are empty, infinitely alone. Who wouldn’t want to relate to that effect with drugs and alcohol. The eternal that we can’t control, that there isn’t a remedy. Even our biology says so.

You must surrender, from the fall, from the attempt, surrender into that hole and accept the facing army of doubt. Along those lines of hopelessness lies. Hold like a shield, a sword and a compass the belief that nothing else can be. But Jesus.

There is a simple confidence with a heart in Jesus where the constant need to prove love is replaced with assurance that Love is alive.

I want to leave a legacy not that I am remembered but that I along with the individual entrepreneurs that make up Detroit, are starting during a time of the unknown, in this city, that all who continue to live know. During the false sense of security felt after the height of the recession and placed another and began as many had begun before. This space, where the culture of photography is embraced and grown.

Friend Mary,
Thou wouldst welcome upon
these pages, the momentoes of thy friend’s
momentoes, the perusal of which will bring to
remembrance, in after years, the pleasures of bye
gone days, and how pleasing will be the
thought, that many who have placed there
tokens of respect, upon these pages, were friends
indeed, but first pause, and consider
who are thy friends, and let none be
received as such, until they have truly
proved themselves worthy, and well deserve
the name.
To Miss Mary A. Millis

From her friend
M. A. James

Oswego, Oct 29, 1838

This is from the journal’s owner, Mary, to all her friends who will write over the next 30 years.


Gladly I’d twine a wreath for thee
From friendships fair unfading tree
And bid it bloom unceasingly

To slain thy hours of loneliness

but where shall this rare plant be found.
does it eve grow, on the earthly ground
or only grace some heavenly mound

amid those lovers of happiness

It sometimes blooms neath suns bright skies
But when misfortune blasts arise
Quickly the sunshine friendship dies
and leaves but dull formality

Some bird of origin divine
I’ll seek to form this wreath of thine
plucked from the withering bond of time
to bloom for thee eternally

nor i alone this wreath will twine
but all thy friends who trace a line

in this nespitle (?) of thine
shall form this wreath for thee

this album then a wreath for thee
and every name a flower shall be
a pure bright gem of constancy
sacred to love and memory

Mary E. Harlow

Writings of a Poet, A. J. Thompson, 1838-1851

I will be publishing poems and writings from a book I purchased today. One a day. You will want to read these, i only wish you could see the penmanship.

The back story

I wish I could write like I thought when daydreaming. This morning having completed my first assignment for Time Magazine, I made my way to John K King Books in Detroit. I strolled through the old books section picking up one copy of the New Testament printed in 1670 to read. It was in Latin and leather bound with an asking price of 450. “I feel less intelligent being around all of these books” I told a woman who was surprised I had started a conversation. “Start Reading” she suggested.

My friend Amos and I walked into another room to find a elderly woman reading while standing. Above her a sign hung listing the various sections at the doorway of a room behind her; “-Sports (with a dash as it was listed above another section) -Occult (also with a dash on faded paper). “Were you looking for the sports that the Occult play? If so it is in that direction” she laughed.

Making my way to the counter without a book I saw a variety of classic photo albums from the early 1900s for 200-500 dollars. Nothing was in my price range. Upon leaving I saw this little book with 35 dollar price tag from the corner of my eye or I stood and stared at it for a few minutes, either way it did not meet my fancy for the 10 minutes I was by it for some time.   The case for why I picked up the red broken, tattered journal in a plastic sleeve was mainly because if it were new, I would purchase the same design, make and build to record what I felt needed recording ( I have filled out 9 journals in 6 years/28 countries and I still feel behind).

The Authors

Inside Page, “To Little Book and from each heart a tribute of affection bring  M.H.C.H.”

It appears this book was passed among friends, among lovers but lovers only in the emotional sense, among a Mary A. Millis and a Morris Z. James. There are roughly 100 pages all weather and age has seen. Contributing authors so far as I have read include CMP, B Phillips, and Bath and Kitts. It seems all lived in a tiny New York, or Oregonian, town of Oswego. The Main poet who has mostly written to the beauty of named Mary is A. J. Thompson.

Following a few poems about friends yields a dedication page, “This book is open for good advice, not (underscored) for flattery“.

I am yet to decide whether to write the poems in order or as I chose, The dated poems are not in chronological order.

From the Middle of the Book,

Beauty is never so lovely and attractive as when it is hidden beneath the veil of retiring modesty. The most beautiful flowes of the garden, that most attracts and harms the senses, never appears so lovely as when it is behold, sweetly preping from the midst of its curtain of green leaves, which serve to partially proect it, from the sun and elements, and render its charms doubly interesting and beautiful.

A. J. Thompson, July 13, 1841

You know each person searching after you. You know their steps because they are following in yours. Each person who is weary or downhearted, strengthen them. Step towards judgment, step towards peace. Insert title but see what a world can’t.

Two Masters? It is hard to narrow all that I serve to less than 9 so please Lord lessen me the 8 but with mercy and grace.

Alone I find you, my head toward heaven

looking towards others are the needs you prompt me to bare in burden.

If my voice may be heard across the world, will you carry it a message of yours alone.

Jesus is the truth. Paul was in the jail and God shook the bounderies and the jail opened. After the jailor came into the cell realizition the jail was opened he was thinking of suicide. When he saw Paul he got down on his knees and asked Paul, “What must I do to be saved?”

The Jailor, a free man, ran into a jail to talk to a Jesus filled man and asked what must I do to be saved. When God does miracles like opening up the jail cells of our lives, it is often, most often for those around us he is talked to bring them closer to him.

Jesus stepped out of heaven for your personally. He is the only one in all religions who say, “I am the Truth” and he continues, “the way and the life”. If you believe in Jesus you will be saved.

Look at what Jesus taught. How does that experience affect you? We are kind because he is kind, but that is not enough. Look at the Word and the Wonder. Look at the miracles Jesus has performed.

WE have a savior that just doesn’t live, but lives in us. WE have to tell the story. It is the gospel. From Gen 1 to Rev 22. The Gospel of Jesus Christ is true. Mark 2:6 “What is this wisdom that has been given that he even does miracles!”

Take the passage John 14:6 and compare it to any other religion. You will not find it anywhere else.

Picture 1

Chicas Praying For Healing, Real Church, Hamtramck

When I was 21 I could not convey my idealism or dreams in one 5 minute sitting. I was told I did not know what I want. In response I told everything I wanted but not in a Christmas list manner but in an idealistic matter. Everything could happen and my words could be the push factor for the happening.

At 23 I could not convey to a New York Times editor what I wanted to do as a photographer in less that 5 minutes. It was 2 am in a barn in New York. Words upon words and many dreamed filled metaphors brought out not a single tangilbe dream of mine. Explanations that never ended only compounded to find some other realm to talk about.

Now 6 years later, I find that my idealism exits stronger than before yet I use less words because my search is more refined. More faith meets the greater questions that exist. The stakes are higher with larger budgets and bills. I have become patient knowing in a confident sense that I am young and have much to learn.

Wait and be patient, everyone who is younger, Your purpose will come. It is ok not to know but waist not in the reality that you are young but with ambition and contentment, await eagerly the dreams you have in your heart only to be brought by God and your mind will be blown.

My 6th trip to Asia, 2nd time to China, 19 days from now.

I was exploring an abandoned building last night and came across this group of people from the suburbs who were tipping had spent 3 months trying to push this truck off the 4th story of the packard plant for the fun of it. Not sure what the photos are worth, but wanted to send them along in case. I have more, just wanted to send you two for now. I have been doing a story the scrappers and urban spelunkers for the past 2 years. Crazy city.Picture 8

Detroit you have been so good to me,

now the hands of tribes wipe clean the thoughts and pride of thee.

Let my broken bones rejoice,

Foreigners pay the price of a our nations choice.

Let my broken bones rejoice,

One day all will price out sins calm collective noise.

Justice, hear old melodies, built then deconstructed

by old photography, held by new with their valor interrupted.

My industry points only to me echoed by a name far away hollered

by the publics dollar hung now around presidents emerged collar.

And what are we to consider, that rides on angels wings? Our loved one or the trouble of distant gun? Adopting worried cares complete with burdens and stares disciples need never filled.  Haste isn’t laid down when brides are won. And angels come at the distant gun. What is range if the sniper looks and sees both target and enemy the same? Why disprove non fiction by argument and verse when all you need is at your hand, until it’s gone. A scientist will say their stone is a fact until Obama or another stone brings something to distract.

God is God for as long as man can remember. Planet Pluto was pronounced dead last September, what is to disprove but truth that man has made? For we are so smart now! We know that we know less about things smart people know they know nothing about! Us In the middle of financial shade, so close as friends to the capital giving light and blame! If your argument is, “Raised you were which is why you are”, then why did planet pluto die? I was raised to know Jesus and the 9 planets. 7 or 8 left, i am not sure. Three years of paleontology gave me a deeper love for the study of.

Pluto; KIA by a science board which is out to prove.

Compound intelligence gives us only technology. Science proves we know little, there is a lot to know, and what we do know gives us a glimpse at the intricacies of God design.

Late is the only time to write. People expect early and forget after which causes the surprise.

Next Year in Christian Science Monitor and a pulpit near you; Da Vinci is found out to be the father of an ape, which he adopted, in a scandal, by finding a code (with some kind of fallen priest) about modern day hatred between whomever wants to hate and whomever else wants to hate. In the next issue, “What does proving prove?” and, “Dodgeball gives you cancer!”

An immediate fierce cannon of questioning shrapnel billows and busts as consequences are fondled following that oh small still quiet voice breathing over a whisper, encouraging as it guides, the small quiet voice that says, “Wait”.

I would suggest not to miss it twice.