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.

Understanding Judas

 I, like many Americans am in debt, but here’s the catch. My entire life all I’ve ever known is public service and ministry. I own a business, but honestly being in a society that sees what they want to see I have to take a lot of heat. America is filled with numerous groups pushing agendas and many of these agendas have nothing to do with the greater good of the public. It’s basically a society where a number of people see themselves in huge houses they can ill afford away from those whom they are financially obligated to pay the debts that they owe to. The first question is would Judas charge interest? I ask this as a metaphor, but to be honest I’ve seen people die for the mighty dollar so I’ve been on both sides of the fence. Women and men selling themselves with no choice and in the end be worse off than they were before. Financial geniuses sitting in a packed room counting and handling IRA dollars in exchange for their kickbacks. Mega churches and educational institutions probing the brains of future scholars. Political icons trading stocks only to realize that being a political figure is the equivalent of a punching bag that in the end causes aneurisms and death threats because no one seems to see themselves in the mirror. Tomorrow I have the choice to get up and keep taking out high interest loans to serve the public or go do something else with my retirement income. Sadly, due to a flaw in society, I’ve rather enjoyed witnessing my fate with a low credit score. I’ve enjoyed talking  to customer service representatives stacking on late fees. The birthday cards are the best. They’ve shown me more love than my family and friends at times, and, “yes,” I am the victim. I’ve made friends with these institutions because as a victim I made the decision to invest in people by any means necessary. I mean the calls after you pass the grace periods are endless and the settlement offers on recorded lines really give you a sense of hope. Then there’s the bait and switch calls. They use a lot of AI to calculate your mega deal and they get a kick out of using a high loan dollar amount to draw you in. They actually add up all of your debt, convince you to jump off of a sinking ship and while on their life boat at a small fee they’ll settle your debts and kindly repair your ship. I can just imagine the conversations they have with their coworkers, but I’m not going to complain, but in a sense it seems like I literally have no choice but to take out high interest loans to finance my own ambitions because when I tried to do it the old fashioned way the banks looked at my failed marriage and bankruptcy and kindly sent me back to the pit of hell to fight my way back to financial freedom. Growing older, I’ve learned a lot from this experience. I’ve learned a lot about financial literacy and I’ve learned a lot about people and personal responsibility. I’ve also learned a lot about the mind of Judas. He may have saw no value in healing and investing in people. He also may have thought Christ himself got what he deserved for caring about the people whom Judas may have thought were poor investments. Maybe Judas didn’t believe in Christ dream or maybe he was jealous. Owning a business, I find myself at a crossroad with these two schools of thought every time I decide to open up my doors for service. I see the politician asking for my vote; I see the clergy asking for my soul; I see the customer looking for a deal and I see the banks asking for interest and I see myself out numbered trying to survive. Sadly, in the story, Christ dies a horrible death in a triumphant rise to the kingdom that he preached about; the kingdom of heaven, while Judas dies by suicide and all of Christ disciples watching, seemingly afraid to save a hero who spent his life saving others. In the end one lesson can be learned from Judas and his followers and that is that there is a long bloodline of treasures counting the change, but many of these individuals see no value in the principle as they raise the interest rates and as time passes by in the end a poor man only has one thing to look forward to and that is a meal ticket and the kingdom of heaven. Unlike Christ, Judas would probably tell him to get a job, charge him interest on everything as he rides around glistening in gold and as the poor soul dies a slow death the great Judas would probably charge him for the pills to heal him after spiking his drink at a late night get together with no money to pay for his funeral and no bail money if he goes to jail trying to save Christ on the cross. In the story we find a man who clearly understood and loved money, but eventually ends up having a conscience because he kills himself after selling out the dream. The dream of heaven on earth filled with peace and good will towards all. This story gives us two lessons to learn, one is the price of sacrifice and the other the actual value of material possessions. In the end we learn that with God, even with nothing, you’ve won because you can take nothing with you in the end.

Understanding Judas

The Good Man

As a doctor I found myself at a crossroad. 

Over my thirty year run I’d seen people come and go. I had my good days and bad days. I’d faced lawsuits and miracles but never before have I been so drained. Searching for some form of happiness I found myself in the heat of Africa trying to save a village from a lethal strain of Ebola. In all of my years of studying to find the right solution I felt my brain going numb. In the funk of night I heard a helicopter landing near my station. I thought they were bringing in medical supplies but it was for me. The other doctors noticed that I just wasn’t myself anymore. Drained in a room with patients begging for pain medicine I collapsed as they rushed me to the helicopter so I could return home. While in a deep sleep I could see my children playing outside. They were looking for me but I was out saving the world. Off in the distance I saw an image of myself alone. Always alone being called a good man, and a hero. As I awoke in a hospital gown I walked away from it all. I got me a cabin in the forest never to see another patient again.

It was the best decision of my life. Honestly, if I didn’t walk away I would have died trying to save the world.

The End

The Good Man

Purpose

Filled with mixed emotions he’d pushed himself to the limit.

He’d just lost his job, his family, and he was tired of everything.

What was the point? He’d grown to trust no one and every time his phone rang it was another strange customer or business competitor trying to end his new business venture.

This was it. Once he jumped it was over. The science was simple because once he hit the ground, splat it was over. No more Benjamin. 

All he had to do was say no. Take a break, maybe go missing for a while, but physically he was tired.

Exhausted, he took his foot off of the ledge and in a cold sweat he decided to sleep his problems away only to face another day in the morning.

If he had no purpose, at sunrise he was now determined to find one.

Purpose

Trance

It started with the musical hook.

It got worse with the commercials.

Over and over again I saw her with no clothing on.

In her natural state I needed it. 

I wanted it even when I wasn’t feeling it.

Either someone had figured something out that I didn’t know or I was going crazy.

The food, I craved it, especially at certain temperatures.

What was in that chicken?

Out numbered in a casino, the atmosphere seemed to entice me to spend money.

In church it was as though God himself was returning tomorrow.

What, or who was doing this?

The movie made me feel as if I could fly.

The drugs, the cigarettes, the beer, kept calling me and I wanted more and more.

Sitting in a room out numbered 10 to one, I stood no chance. 

It was as though the girl was coming through the screen and someone was forcing me to touch myself.

Everywhere I went, every hole I fell into led me to go in circles.

The sport, I kept playing and playing until I won.

I was clearly hypnotized.

I was in a trance with nothing to help me snap out of it but reality.