RastaRicanStudio|Ellenville|New York » Photographer

Black

RastaRicanStudio — Thu, 22 Mar 2012 18:08:09 +0000

By Derrick Williams

Black

I thought it meant beautiful
And they said it’d never crack
But when I think about black
And what’s done behind my back
You wonder why I react
With hostility
Why I’m angry and distraught
Well King taught me to turn the other cheek
And most times I do
But I also love Malcolm
Who said “by any means necessary”
How can you keep playing me?
How can you keep slaying me?
Mistaking me for a hoodlum
For a gangster…or a thug
If my shirt isn’t snug
Or my jeans hang to low
Does that mean I always fit the description?
Like Chapelle said a black man between 5’9” and 7 feet
I just wanted a bite to eat
And it happened to be a little cold
This shit is getting old
How many more petitions must we sign?
Just to get day within the constitution
I’m tired of this prostitution
This institution without any restitution
You call this freedom and the American dream
I just wanted candy and some ice cream
Maybe some ice tea or chips
But you drew from the hip
Killing my dreams
And everything you said America stood for
That shit went out the back door
Black
I thought it meant beautiful
And they said it’d never crack
But when I think about black
And what’s done behind my back
You wonder why I react….Trayvon Martin

City

I Don’t Need A Man

RastaRicanStudio — Thu, 22 Mar 2012 14:00:00 +0000

I DON’T NEED A MAN BLUES
by Starlet Williams on Monday, March 19, 2012 at 8:01pm ·

I DON’T NEED A MAN BLUES GOT A LOT OF US MESSED UP

KNOWING DAMN WELL IF GIVEN THE CHANCE WE WILL SNAP A GOOD BROTHER UP

NEVER WEAK TO EXCEPT ANYTHING THAT BE SWEET WHEN SHE NEED TO BE…. HARD WHEN SHE NEEDS TO BE… YOU KNOW HOW IT IS

ON THE COOL YEARNING TO BE LOVED IS ALL SHE REALLY WANT’S …THAT SHE ALMOST SETTLED FOR THAT OTHER KIND OF BROTHER THAT’S CAUGHT UP IN HIS OWN WORLD OF MESS

LONGING FOR A MAN… BUT SOMETIMES SHOWS THE OTHER SIDE RUNNING AROUND HOLLERING I DON’T NEED A MAN TO COMPLETE ME

BUT WHAT NO ONE SEE IS THAT BEHIND THAT SMILE SHE’S REALLY LONELY INSIDE ..SHE JUST WANT’S THAT HUMAN ENTITY … SO HUNGRY FOR WHAT IT FEELS LIKE

NOT WANTING A TEMPORARY FIX …. SHE WANT’S LOVE WITH NO EXPIRATION DATE.. SHE KNOWS THAT THIS IS WHAT IT WILL TAKE

SHE’S THINKING DAY AND NIGHT WHAT MUST SHE DO.. TO SAVE HERSELF OF THE I DON’T NEED A MAN BLUES… KNOWING FULL WELL SHE WOULD SCREAM IT TO THE WORLD IF THAT MAN WAS BY HER SIDE

SHE’S NOT TORN OR IS SHE BITTER… HER WOUNDS HAVE BEEN HEALED AS SHE SITS BACK AND WAIT ON HER 9 OUT OF 10 MAN ON THE REAL

(SDW)© 3/2012
http://www.facebook.com/note.php?note_id=350398935001631

Dreams Turned To Taciturn Reflections

RastaRicanStudio — Tue, 06 Mar 2012 12:24:43 +0000

An associate wrote this to me
“you need a muse and inspiration will follow and bloom”

I thought I had one but she became camera shy.
The creative part cries out in silence but yet some can hear it.
Frustrating as I want to feed it and therefore not let it die within.
I do not want yet another corpse held down by remorse within me.
I feed it what I can and promise that every day I awake I will bring it something even if just a taste.
I feel I cannot even give away my images for those that do not want me to even have their number/email.
How can I give away a part of me to someone that does not even trust me?
My art is a child of my soul!
How can I cast them/it into hand too cold to hold another person’s art with any value but free?
Thank you for all the kind words, Kim.
I can be intense or so it seems but when I am quiet ‘they’ ask why but when I speak they do not listen.
So that is why I cry in silence and my dreams turn to taciturn reflections off a broken mirror.
RastaRican

The Editorial Calendar makes it possible to

RastaRicanStudio — Sat, 25 Feb 2012 12:47:01 +0000

The Editorial Calendar makes it possible to see all your posts and drag and drop them to manage your blog.

The WordPress Editorial Calendar Screen Cast from Zack Grossbart on Vimeo.

Blend Modes and Adjustment Layer Mask

RastaRicanStudio — Fri, 24 Feb 2012 18:03:34 +0000

When my Soul was wandering in an endless catacomb

RastaRicanStudio — Sun, 19 Feb 2012 11:43:40 +0000

I take comfort in your words and also look forward to being next to you.
When my Soul was wandering in an endless catacomb under timber still smoldering from the wreckage of a place I once called home.
You reached in and offered me hand without a glance of the broken man.
You saw my spirit without seeing my face.
Rough hewn timbers laden with lies and yet you reach in and removed them with Love and understanding.
Sometimes I kept my head bowed in prayer and others in despair as tears jumped off my face as I felt less than waste.
Slowly I turned to the voice and craned my head to the Light in your eyes and the blue sky above my storm.
Yet having nothing than words and a deep spirit you guided me on a sea of Hope to Island that is our own.
Holding you close in my arms with your head canted that lower lip in my mouth as I gently pull on it.
I see the pulsing blood/Love that sustains our bodies and Spirits with every heartbeat.

Shattered windshields to my soul

RastaRicanStudio — Fri, 17 Feb 2012 12:50:09 +0000

So I sit here frustrated wanting to do something or commit some sin to stop the tears that flow from my eyes on this day before the Sunrise.
Fifty-one years ago today I was born on an island and to some extent am still on island.
So much easier to hold and kiss away someone’s tears then to do that for oneself.
Standing yet fallen
Smoke wafting from the wreckage of my life
Shattered windshields to my soul
Dreams fractured and hurt making their way to the dirt.
Lips cracked and mummified nary a clue to when they were full and awaited a lover’s first kiss or two.
Eyes closed in introspection and a fun house mirror looks back in reflection.
In the darkness I read my life as if it was in Braille but my feelings foretell every detail.
Tears seep from eyes in lieu fire that would come from a volcano.
Violence and destruction would only perpetuated what some expect.
I have asked Him many a time while am I still here?
I have kissed death a few times and was almost seduced while in bed but you pulled me out.
You pulled from that dark bed and into the light of yet another day.
I do not know what work you have for me but everyday I awake and thank Thee for another day.

RastaRican

I watch the minutes fall off the clock like drops of rain into the ocean.

RastaRicanStudio — Tue, 14 Feb 2012 11:42:40 +0000

I watch the minutes fall off the clock like drops of rain into the ocean. I know where each falls but cannot see where it went.
When I was with you my despair you would wrest from my soul.
When we took strolls I had no idea our time together had been foretold.
I was your dry dock and you were my vessel.
What I would give to hold her but her prescient thoughts brought the end.
Another miraculous sunset except I stand on this rock alone watching someone else go home.

RastaRican

Keeping thoughts flowing and knowledge growing

RastaRicanStudio — Tue, 17 Jan 2012 09:39:27 +0000

Laying low but not on the down low.
Keeping thoughts flowing and knowledge growing.
Having a time trying to fellowship with ‘trifling’ people.
So spending time alone and yet keeping His light to right though even though no one is left.
Taking this ship on lifetime cruise and I cannot afford to lose my way.
Though the grave seems like as a good a place to rest but I have work to do.
For a long as there is life there is decay.
Lets lower our heads and pray for the morals that have fallen on a bed of disrespect.
A moment of silence for the expectations that lay on the floor.
I am asked often why I am not in church.
Because my soul does not rest and my nerves vibrate.
The only time they speak to me is to judge about one Sunday but not to say how are you today.
I smile and deflect for the darkest of all space is behind this face.
My words fermenting in the corners of my mind waiting for one more insipid pious word from them and I’ll wipe that look of your face so fast you will need intercessory prayers just to stand up.
They bring ‘others’ to speak and spew and expect me to sit there like a fool.
I wait but the weight is too much and like a leaf in Autumn I fall by the wayside.
Sometimes on stony ground until the winds of change move me or just the stain of who I was remains on the concrete.

Fotoshop

RastaRicanStudio — Wed, 11 Jan 2012 10:11:09 +0000

I thought I would share with my photographer friends.