Un-Discardable

  I wrote "Un-Discardable" in about 40 minutes then proceeded to spend the next two years diligently photographing all of the faces for it, almost 500 faces in fact. These are all people who entered my sphere in one way or another; family, friends, co-workers, acquaintances, people newly met, people in bars or wandering in nature, in the U.S. or from my trip to Peru. Also, far away and online friends as well and if you pay attention, you just might see a few famous faces mixed in. My favorite photos were of homeless folks whilst walking the streets of downtown San Francisco. I traded a full pack of cigarettes for each photo and gained some valuable insight and perspective in doing so. Friends expressed concern about the sketchy nature of hanging out with homeless people, but I felt quite safe doing so and in fact, it seemed, that they considered me way sketchier than I considered them. The whole process was quite expansive for me especially because I'm not really the type to go up to strangers for any reason let alone to photograph them. I loved the process and enjoyed all the various interactions. I hope you enjoy it as well; it's about you after all- what you were, what you are, or what you shall be.

   Un-discardable are we,

who’ve lived enough life to see,

that hard truths, hammer out soft lies.

    Like an old anchor chain,

with a patina of pain,

hard as iron our rust- a disguise.



    Un-discardable we are,

our tired eyes see far,

don’t discard old metal- heat it to smelt.

    We’ve been forged in the fire,

of every tragedy and desire,

hammered into shape- every strike we felt.



    Un-discardable we stand,

our very presence will demand,

you see in our eyes- the inevitability of age.

    Every line in our face,

marks our joys and disgrace,

we’ve danced hard upon life’s crumbling stage.



    Un-discardable with luck,

you too won’t give a fuck,

about idiosyncrasies present in all ages.

    Every trend every fad,

every political shift that makes folks mad,

cold metal forgets the hot forge of youthful rages.



    Un-discardable we’re not plastic,

we don’t melt easy we’re not spastic,

pitted and rusted we retain our use.

    An old hammer knows how to hit,

it can either build or break some shit,

with the right wielder- it can pound out past abuse.



    Un-discardable we know the score,

aimed like a rifle at every war,

molten then re-formed we’re never the same.

    Our country oiled us and bullets fed,

marching blindly wherever led,

pawns on a chessboard- someone else’s game.



    Un-discardable our training won’t die,

“GO GO GO- don’t fucking ask why!”

Our brains set loose down a hill with no brake.

    But some feel thrown away,

Veterans give up every damn day,

while governments start new wars for fucking fucks sake.



    Un-discardable forged in the fire,

from decades of walking the wire,

but it’s through our suffering that the world can heal.

    Look us in the fucking face,

we will always cut to the chase,

if you ask about reality, we’ll keep it real.



    Un-discardable yet some have been lost,

in the foundry of life there’s a cost,

some of us are on the streets or in the grave.

    But for those who have learned the switch,

and have made their own mind their bitch,

we forget ourselves and look for others to whom we can save.



    Un-discardable it’s youth we are from,

we are just YOU but in years to come,

but as they say youth is wasted on the young.

    But it cannot be different, and we see,

youthful innocence perpetuates glee,

those tones change from the cracks in your bell being rung.



    Un-discardable we hold the line,

between technology and tradition and it’s fine,

but I wish I could bestow on all- a childhood without a phone.

    Life- it wants to unfold,

you can keep up or your ass will feel old,

keep the mind flexible, but your own roots you must own.



    Discardable we are not,

we strike while the iron is hot,

the blacksmiths hammer becomes a sickle all to soon.

    The estuary of humanity is wide,

a generational change in the tide,

we are the setting orange sun making way for the moon.



    Un-discardable X, Y or Z,

generations are a flood don’t you see?

Then the water recedes and in the fertile soil there’s growth.

    And as we know life wants to rain,

and rust both anvil and chain,

we weld together links of DNA, an evolutionary oath



    Un-discardable let the bellows blow!

We have experiential alloys to show!

A unique memory of our steel you shall inherit.

    Our mistakes will be sculpted in brass,

don’t make the same errors dumbass,

or we’ll bestow the bronze helmet of woe and make you wear it.



    Un-discardable we’re all carbon, see?

Great pressure makes a diamond of thee,

from carbon and iron is born the strength of steel.

    And though made of metals we may be,

in our tarnished hearts we are free,

for in age, we soften into copper and become real.



    Un-discardable- who throws away gold?

Forever young in a body that’s old,

ineffable consciousness awakens in the end.

    We must look past our thought to what’s behind,

all of that corrosion and tarnish of mind,

use the grinding wheel of awareness that aspiration will lend.



    Un-discardable we’re all made of quarks,

but we hammer at each other making sparks,

shiny new metal doesn’t think it’ll ever rust.

    We all oxidize- accept that shit,

round metal through a square hole won’t fit,

you can laminate all your lies- they’ll still bust.



    Un-discardable don’t you see?

The beauty of the patina we call me,

if you can’t appreciate rust- your heads in your ass.

    But here’s a fucking hint,

shiny metal will lose its glint,

best to figure it the fuck out now and quit the sass.



    From being discarded we ran,

we now stand still because we can,

galvanizing our suffering for the world.

    With a stoic glint of mirth,

we must polish our own self-worth,

life is an alloy of opposites all swirled.



    Un-discardable not just the old,

but anyone who’s gone hard and cold,

the strongest metals can be re-shaped, just watch and see.

    A lifetime of thinking has wrought,

a brittle iron mind of thought,

let it rust away and thus you can finally just Be.



    Un-discardable I could go on,

preaching to you from this rust called Shawn,

but it’s best that youth do things of the young.

    Because every generation that decays,

tries to coat the young with their glaze,

this is just a generational song that I have sung.



    Young metal- be grateful to be shiny,

old iron can get rather whiny,

but only if it holds onto its glittering past.

    Don’t waste a second lamenting temporal scars,

the gift of rust is all of ours,

Change is the only constant, and it moves fast.



    If we’re honest we will see,

behind rusty thoughts is an undivided me,

look past your patina it’s awareness you must regard.

    And before death comes to claim your dust,

peer through that obscuring thought rust,

you are molecules of lucidity- an effulgent shard.



    The discards of a generation,

all worthy of veneration,

from supernova cauldrons all were poured and cooled.

    Whether shiny and new or old,

all end up within times fold,

forged to think we’re separate, we’ve been fooled.



    Young and old alike,

all flow behind the same dike,

will you behave yourself or push beyond the bank.

    Youth rebels the old relax,

but here are the fucking facts,

the only thing we need escape is our own think tank.



    So to the discards and those who are new,

if you’re seeking the one thing true,

all you have to do is give up your fucking lies.

    Existence’s hammer of time will yield,

sparks of your creation in a wakeful field,

the armor wrought for you is the cosmic blacksmith in disguise.



    Un discardable young and old,

all forged within the cosmic fold,

nature keeps pounding until her blade is sharp.

    We’re all one thing- no shit,

do not lament the hammers hit,

be eternal or an Angel with a fucking harp.



    In death- Discardable we are,

but our DNA sparks fly far,

setting ablaze new meat with old eyes.

    The foundry of life- stranger than you think,

so, remember when you’re on the brink,

your energy is never destroyed- so be wise.



    You have heard this generational tale,

now off you go succeed or fail,

Here’s a secret- you really can’t do it wrong.

    No metal is made of one thing,

listen to the cosmic hammer sing,

every clank sparks a “you”- an experiential song.