He was born with the mind of an artist, but, through some trick of fate, was given no means to express it. Some would say along with a small shameful part of my mind, that he is like a child, playing pretend in a world long since gone and dead, and therefore, no use for … Continue reading He Has an Artist’s Mind
Category: Author’s Life
Wake Me Up When I’m Smarter
What do I do now, Father? The die's been cast the game now bought and the red numbers higher than ever, while I, here, have no hands-on in controlling the flow of money. Blank, hard, cold cash. It hurts the lack thereof, but hurts more than I even want it at all. There is no … Continue reading Wake Me Up When I’m Smarter
I Want to Howl
I want to howl for the pain, strip down to all fours, bristle and fang, yowl like the dying for at least there's an end to that. I want to tear skin and flesh built over the years the cover the original me. The me who danced in summer rain, napped beneath swamp coolers, and … Continue reading I Want to Howl
The Responsible Party
Fill me full of dreams while an angel destroys a kitchen and burns holes in the carpet with a child's dream of a match bonfire. Say I may have luck while reprimanding the me, the mom, because the angel spilled the juice left soda on the stairs and got into, yet more matches. Say I'm … Continue reading The Responsible Party
Stuck in the Deep
What options are left in times like these? When I have sunken down so deep the sunlight cannot reach and I can't see any rising bubbles. I go right, it's still black I go left, might as well turn back, and, perhaps, I hadn't turned at all. So, do I sink or do I float? … Continue reading Stuck in the Deep
Grandpa
You have my summers, My pre-school years, And all the baby moments Still trapped behind ears. Broad fingers giving illusions That your hands are big, Fit for holding A baby. You say I was one Once. An angel. Hands to hold an angel. But I came in to hug you Now, then, not long at … Continue reading Grandpa
Wet Wings
My love, You were raised with your father's ideals but by your mother's pragmatism. When talents first bud upon your hands, you clapped for joy and squished them between your palms, making room for more, but not height for growth. My love, You spy the light on the other side with delight, for look, a … Continue reading Wet Wings
The Ten Original Thoughts
I was once told by a yoga instructor that every man only has a max of ten original thoughts, with the average being five or six. Every thought can be traced back to those originals, and outside of that we don't get any new thoughts. I've since wondered about my own thoughts and tried to … Continue reading The Ten Original Thoughts
When I’ve Reached “There”
What if I did give up? What if I just wrote my stories and put them wherever and forget about getting known or making money? What if I just gave up on making a career out of it? I hate selling things anyways, and I hate marketing even more. If people want my story, I'm … Continue reading When I’ve Reached “There”
Pee and the Best Bi-Polar Disorder
Raising a three-year-old, and children in general I suspect, is a lot like having an unmedicated bi-polar disorder. One minute you're filled to the brim with warm, fuzzy love that would throw you in front of a semi-truck for the sake of this child. The next, you're the semi-truck out to coat your grill in … Continue reading Pee and the Best Bi-Polar Disorder
Author T.S. Lowe 