I can’t stop thinking about women

I’m straight, I love women. All shapes sizes and colors. God made me this way. Even when I’m upset with them the nasty thoughts won’t stop. Older women, legal women. When Timmy broke the 50 shades of gray disk in my face I looked at him as if he were crazy. This female director had enough guts to write an entire film about sex. If King Solomon had 700 wives why can’t I? If Muslims want a heaven filled with virgins why can’t I. Who wants to sit and worship some fake image of God all day when the Bible tells me to be fruitful and multiply. Ever since my divorce I’ve dreamed about just about every kind of female I can think of and if it’s wrong, then I don’t want to be right, the slave owners got all of the pleasure they could dream of and they were oppressing people. I go nuts thinking about just a full day until I can’t go any longer. Democratic women, republican women, independent women and even the squad. All of them in one room legally not like Epstein. All of us mutually agreeing to repopulate the planet to stop all of the wars and just keep exercising until we go numb then get up and go again until the darn thing falls off. As a child I watched one of my sister’s cats pound the lights out of another female cat and since it’s Mother’s Day, I proudly went to my mom and told her about it and we laughed. She said, “Son, when you grow up that’s how I’ll get a grand baby.” Welfare girls are having sex, rich people, religious people, handicap people, poor people, devil worshippers, old people, young people, pop stars are going to jail for doing the nasty. Every one is having sex except me. I’m the only one sitting in a room all day alone dreaming about every form of pleasure I can think of. It’s sad, even lesbians are laughing at me and I voted, I’m a good citizen. If people get upset with me for telling the truth then take a walk in my shoes for a change. Running a small business all day watching everyone do what every the hell they feel. Looking in the mirror, I realize that the truth is that past relationships and the system have possibly made me afraid. The system has turned me into a caged king with no queen. STDs, a ruthless baby’s mother image haunting me like many other men. A system that brings free thinkers like me to their knees just for being a man. I guess that’s why we have to die. Maybe there is a place called heaven where you can live with millions of virgins who treat you the way you’re supposed to be treated. An eternal orgasm. A place that gives you the real love and pleasures that God made us to have. A place where you can fulfill all of your fantasies without jealousy or conflict. A mansion filled with passion and no pain; peace and no war. Happy Mother’s Day moms this one is for you. Even though I’m not pleased with my past relationships, including my marriage, I admit that I can’t stop thinking about women. I go out and see them dress up for no reason and then I go to my little box until the image of them fades away then I go to my next task. I’m a man, God made me this way.

I can’t stop thinking about women.

The Art of Loneliness

This is a lovely picture of being alone in a room. The brush strokes are colorful—filled with memories of a past life with friends and loved ones faded with every stroke. A model image with just you. Every primary color dripping from the brush reflects an image of you reaching out to no one. The contacts in your phone are filled with silent replies. No returned calls. Empty messages. The room is quiet and off in the corner there’s an image of a book. A book that you often read to pass the time. Over on the couch is the spot where you used to play with your wife and family, a house filled with kids. On the wall is a picture of relatives that have passed on. You then pick up your old camera only to realize that most stars die in a room alone in a world still enjoying their work and many never make it to the curtain call. At the end of my work, I kindly take my brush and dip it into black paint. In the end even the small stars fade to black only to have visions of an auditorium filled with people while you sit back stage waiting on your cue with old memories of her, sadly, never to manifest. I’m an artist that believes in happy endings so I’ll paint the image of her waiting for me on the other side of the black hole and as we kiss the bad dream of loneliness creates a new sun with amazing colorful flowers. Our dream of  love comes true.

The Art of Loneliness

Hard Work

 Scraping mice waste off of dirty boxes I could feel my finger nails scratching against the old cardboard. Bending down to stack the remaining crates my back muscles started contracting so I started using more of a knee bending motion for relief. Earlier in the day I’d cleaned three cars as the funk of sweat in the sun started to set in. This was what hard work felt like. I’d been outside all day and while looking in the mirror I couldn’t help but notice how my goggles were indented into my facial muscles. Feeling exhausted I knew I had to have walked up those steps over 50 times but I had to keep pushing myself. I had to keep working. I knew I had to get my news program done even though I only had a few subscribers. Sadly, I lost one subscriber, but I’d come to accept the fact that not too many people care to stay informed anymore so I kept taking notes and kept reporting. All of this work and I still didn’t have any excess money to buy food. Gas prices had reached $4.19 a gallon. Highly qualified to do even skilled labor I worked every job I could find, on the roof, in the kitchen and even cleaning waste. People started to believe that I was taking steroids because I’d worked so hard. Grueling eight mile runs in the park, muscle cramps, laps in the pool and gut throbbing push-ups and sit-up reps. I worked so hard that I dreamed of more work while sleeping. This was my life, I came out of my mother’s womb constructing a bridge into the free world.

Hard Work

Empty Mansions

 He pushed it to the max, but his crew was happy on a fixed income. They left him in a room by himself while he struggled and choked snakes. This is all while the streets watched. People were as cold hearted as they were in Noah’s day as the young God stood silent watching his mansion get foreclosed on. I guess it was back to church with the sheep. Sadly, they all lost their hunger. They took pleasure in wasting all of their money on weed, alcohol and drugs while he worked himself to death for nothing but a thrill. Sleeping in a studio he visualized himself behind bars as the pool he once swam in stood empty, no activity. The many rooms that he and his business partners used to party in were now all silent, video cameras off. Now enemy of the state for no apparent reason, no wife, no home, just the property of the Bank of England. The truth is that he had no backup, as his mind reflected on what was left, a tear fell from his eye. Mom was gone, auntie was strung out on drugs along with cousin Lou. The product of a broken system he saw his real father, the drug dealer who came around on his terms. The man who he swore not to become. As they emptied out his garage there was the image of truth, enemies that showed no mercy and a luxury car riddled with bullets of jealousy. Laying on the sidewalk he began to run laps around the block of his home only to see his uncle trying to buy it at a sheriff’s sale with no intention of leasing it to him. Spinning around in fantasies he began to walk away from the town that raised him, he walked and walked until he found a friend that gave him a drink of water. It’s hard for a prophet to be a prophet in his hometown. He tried and now he had nothing left, looking his new friend in the eyes he said thank you, that’s all he could give back in return. The country had over a million people and only one of them gave him a drink and she lived in a hotel.

Empty Mansions 

Leadership

 “This is my country, I’ll do things my way! Do you understand?” Rex said scolding his administration.

“But Sir, we can’t afford anymore wars, we can’t even afford our own problems. Will you listen to us? Please, just listen!” Michelle said, eager to get the Emperor’s approval.

This upset Rex. He felt as though he’d been losing course on what he was appointed for so he snapped. In a raging fit he took Michelle by her hair and threw her over the balcony. Fear now filled the hearts of his administration. 

In a shaking fit as her body laid lifeless on the front lawns of the United Land’s capital, Rex now had his administration’s attention. Fear gravitated throughout the room.

“We’ve tried everything to keep this country afloat and nothing has worked. Now we will be doing things my way. Do you understand? I tried to be nice, but violence is the only thing that the people of this nation seem to understand.”

Rex had now gone off the cuffs. He’d lost it and everyone was now afraid to face him. Reports soon surfaced that the country had elected a mad man and now that the leader of the United Lands had snapped things took a turn real quick. Not only did Rex just kill a staff member, but he’d now got his point across that he was not willing to compromise. In a fit of rage, it now appeared as if Rex had no challengers. Standing with blood on his hands he became enemy number one and only one man was brave enough to challenge him. His name was Evander and he was known for carrying a sword. Every where he went he had his sword and when asked if he would lead he said no. Once Rex heard about Evander he sent troops to kill him but Evander never stayed in one spot for too long. Now comprehending that he had enemies, Evander was now preparing to defend himself so he would only talk to local people. 

“You have to lead us Evander, you’re our only hope. Rex has lost his mind, he’s going to get us all killed,” Greta said, doing her best to convince Evander to get into politics.

“I am not made to rule a nation, I’m only made to tend my own fields,” he replied.

Shortly after his conversation, seven men had heard about where Evander was hiding out so they attacked him and killed anyone in his path. Fighting for his life, Evander now had blood on his hands. He’d killed them all with just his sword. After word got out that Evander had saved Greta the people began to gather around him and this made Rex jealous.

In a power struggle he tried to get Evander to join him but Evander refused so Rex challenged him to a one on one battle. 

“Since you won’t join me then fight me,” Rex said.

Now in a battle to the death, Evander fought hard with his sword as crowds of people gathered to watch. Evander dodged and sliced as Rex slashed at his ear. Noticing blood dripping from his left ear Evander charged Rex landing his sword in the apple of his neck. Looking eye to eye with Rex the raging emperor fell to one knee as Evander went for the kill and chopped off his head. Word spread fast as the sun emerged from a cloud in the sky about Evander’s victory. Evander was the new rightful leader of the United Lands. Taking his place at the head of the table he’d earned the respect from the people. Evander was the new hope. Evander was their new leader.

Leadership 

The Consequences of Fear

Each and every one of us have our own unique qualities. Some of us are heroes and some of us are villains in the story of life. A child that is constantly bullied hears these two voices challenging him over and over again. These are the consequences of fear. It’s like watching a diver jump off of a diving board 89 feet above the water. Each trade, and each profession has to overcome some form of fear. A pilot must overcome the fear of flying. A football player must overcome the fear of being hit. A singer must overcome the fear of an audience and a businessman must overcome the fear of losing everything. With every step one must overcome this number one obstacle, and this includes all of us. We must overcome the fear of failure. Failure is being left in a field of mud never to get up and try again.

The Consequences of Fear

The Purple Curtain Call

 I want to warn you that during the writing of this piece my thoughts saw a different side to leadership and life because I’d just watched a video about the brutality of history compared to present day.

I also had deep thoughts about the crucifixion and I put my mind in the body of an innocent man being tortured. In these thoughts, I saw myself starved being brutally beaten. Sick, on stage, acting out my entire life as though I were happy but deep inside there was more going on. I saw people living lavish lives enjoying themselves as I suffered severely. I saw them drinking, tipped over in wealth as a tear fell from my eye. My soul being ripped out daily as they basked in their riches. I’d become a king of sorrow and as my flesh died while being lifted in the air I could feel my feet burning as they set fire to my legs. The pain I could not endure. I’d become a slave to the world, dying slowly every precious moment that I saw them all basking in purple alcohol and weed. I could feel blood and sweat falling from my head with the crown of thorns seeping into my scalp. With the little consciousness left I saw black birds flying overhead as the burning sun burned at what was left of me. I’d performed this act very well as I saw my disciples do nothing. Crying out to God all I could hear was a voice in my head telling me that this is a price that I must pay for the souls of man. The pain soon became numb. What did I do God? What did I do to deserve this? As they closed the purple curtain and I gave up the ghost the show was over, the crowd was left with a burning cross and as I gave up my spirit they all stood at a crossed road and had to make a decision, but…But…BUt….BUT my soul would rise. They owned the world, but I now owned the heavens. What a performance, what a show. The crowd cheered and threw roses on stage. I gave it all. I did it for them. Love is a brutal performance that we all must play. God loved them so much that I stood in between.

The Purple Curtain Call