Mr. Owl

 After a long night watching the moon, Mr. Owl decided to sit in his room by the fireplace and drink tea. It was fall now and the weather was cooler. He’d sat on his tree branch for hours watching the kids trick or treating playing in the freshly fallen autumn leaves. Relaxing by the fireplace he figured maybe it was time to live a simple life. His days of dreaming about flying to the moon were over. It was now time to watch the next generation do the things that he’d once dreamed of doing.

Mr. Owl

The Spider in the Sink

 I had a conversation with an older man that probably didn’t like me.

I spoke to a woman that probably hated my guts.

After the conversations I saw a spider in the sink.

Frustrated, I thought about killing the spider.

Ironically, I heard a voice in my head.

“Where are the gnats?” the voice said.

After hearing the voice, I noticed that the spider left his spot in the sink. He or she got rid of the gnats for me.

Throughout the entire situation the spider said nothing, it just did what it was made to do, so I let him live.

He or she did me a favor.

The Spider in the sink.

The Scent of a Woman

In a combat zone I lost one of my five senses and I spent fourteen years alone. I lost my sense of smell and I hadn’t been in the presence of a female for 14 long years. 

It was a cold night, bitterness filled my drafty room as the furnace kicked on. Looking through my second floor window I noticed my neighbors arguing, soon after I heard my doorbell ring. It was her.

“Why are you here?” I said, noticing something strange happening to my nose.

I could smell her but nothing else.

“I’ve been watching you do your yard,” she said.

At this moment I’d become speechless as she began to take her clothes off.

This was my neighbor and I knew something was wrong so I did the right thing and I backed away.

“I want to feel good,” she said, rubbing up against me. At this moment I couldn’t help but notice her husband out of the corner of my eye. 

As he grabbed her they continued arguing on my property so I kindly told them to go and closed the door.

Standing on the other side of the door I felt my heart beating fast. It was like being put next to a magnet, the attraction was there but I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t allow myself to be forced upon by another man’s wife. My thoughts were racing. My body wanted what she had to offer but morally it would have destroyed me. Tempted, I came to understand the laws of attraction, I used the built up energy to finish building my shed only to be haunted by the scent of a woman. I survived one battle, but how many more were coming before I fell deep into temptation.

The Scent of a Woman

The 5 Year Loan

 I’d just reached retirement. It was January 28th 2014 and I sat in a room and looked at the same fly on the wall for three days trying to figure out what to do with all of my time. I had to have read just about every book in the apartment. I went to the YMCA for an entire year non stop. Every relationship ended the same way. “Hello, why do you keep calling me? Get a life!” I got call after call from people needing to borrow something, then that’s when it happened. I got an offer in the mail telling me that my approval odds were great. It was time to take out a 5 year loan. The process was smooth, I applied, got approved and the money went straight into my bank account. I found something new to get into. I had every loan sharking company on speed dial so I decided this was how I would spend my retirement. I’d become a high interest loan magnet destined to become a financial expert just by filing for bankruptcy, taking financial classes and surrounding myself with people who loved to talk about the markets. I’d racked up a total of 15 credit cards and I’d maxed them all out. I learned about gold and silver, then at year 14 of retirement that’s when it hit me. The system was rigged. You owned nothing and even if you did someone was in line to take it. If you lost your home, someone would end up buying it for much cheaper at an auction than what you paid for it and if you tried to do things your way that’s when the law and regulations came in. So to conclude, it’s been twelve years and I’m still paying on a five year loan. The truth is that once word gets out that you have a deposit coming into your bank the offers are endless and they won’t stop until they have all of your assets as collateral. You may think you have a choice but the truth is, you don’t. The more you try to control your own decisions the more you go under. The money was not made to hoard it’s printed out to spend.

Good luck.

Headed into Halloween, I’ve come to believe that the smell of money creates blood thirsty vampires looking to suck it up until you’re broke.

The End.

Goodbye Youngstown Black Monday

Tuneup bombs.

Mob rule and violence.

Steel Mills gone.

Corrupt public officials.

What’s left is a city of people filled with segments of the past to hard to overcome.

The Valley surviving on a river of Mahoning water that flows to this day.

Invisible heroes and money under the table.

Many residents plagued by poverty with those born and raised fleeing to the suburbs.

Not too much left to kill as everyone joins hands for nonviolence week with old timers who still have visions of what Youngstown used to be.

Today you see people coming together in a still divided and tribal way. 

Some generations have returned to pick up the pieces left for those brave enough to fight for a place to call home.

In a new town riddled with unusual decisions and many residents still in poverty a sense of hope is what’s keeping those in the ice castle together.

Today, with many ethnicities and cultures, the clouds of steel smoke have lifted but is still in the blood of those who survived generations after Black Monday.

There is hope because the old will never forget Black Monday. The fight now is left for the “young” in Youngstown to win.

Writing overdose

 Hmmm.. what can I make up today? I could write about politics or sports, maybe angels, gods or demons. I could write about conspiracies, drug addicts or rapist. I could write about criminals, doctors, dancers or teachers. I can write about good and bad, sex or Nuns. I could even write about problems or maybe victories and defeats. The topic about life or death seems cool. Today I had a thought about falling in love with a female who lost her legs. What an amazing love story. I loved her for her and she loved me for me. What a story to write about. I’ll even add a turtle searching for his shell in the story.

Writing overdose.

The Artist

 Today I finished my masterpiece. It was a picture of me hanging from a tree if you held the picture one way and carrying the tree if you held the picture the other way.

I rather enjoyed this piece. I painted it in a hotel room alone getting ready to be stoned to death for being a good person. The world will go on without me. I was the first artist at least on record to fit his paintings on a ticket stub. I’ve enjoyed my run here on planet earth. I’ve enjoyed being left for dead alone to paint and draw for myself, but most of all, I enjoyed the paintings that I’ve left behind. I leave them as a gift for you all. Sadly, the first painting of me being crucified was burned, but they’ve finally caught me again and this time I’m being sentenced to death. All I’ve ever wanted to do was save souls. They got everything they could out of my little mind now they’re ready to stone me to death for doing what I love to do. Goodbye chair, where I wrote my first piece. Goodbye museums, where I spent time showing exhibitions with my mother and sister. Goodbye world, I’ll see you at resurrection lane. 

Goodbye.

The first stone struck me straight in my third eye for an instant death on earth but a rebirth into another life.

Goodbye, and Hello new world.