the camera man has our orbital balls,
in his sights, squeezes our brains,
flashing focuses thoughts,
messing up
freedom of choice
we receptive, recieve
all the photons jiggling,
memories tickling senses,
tooting clicking his shutter
with some pleasing colors or
loud glaring fucias and venetian blues
gaudy yellows, ebony black, snowy whites
or soft pastels and silky lines
zooming in
dooming us to camera time
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
well penned poem.interesting perspective of the camera here.