Silver Owl

Today I've decided to do something a bit different. This is somewhat of a short story I scrawled down a long time ago. It is meant to resemble how I visualize my insomnia. It's sort of like a strange talking animal from a fairy tale that strongly takes effects on your thoughts with questions all night long.

Restless am I as I try to ward off these tormenting thoughts. Whenever this happens, the silver owl appears in my open window.

“You are not welcome here,” I say. The owl’s pale blue eyes mock me as he swoops into my room landing on my bedpost.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” says the silver owl. “You left the window wide open, you lit the window sill with a train of candles. You have welcomed me here.” My eyebrows pinch together crookedly as I let out a sigh of frustration.

“What do you want?”

“I have another question for you,” says he. I know he won’t leave until answers are given. Until all is resolved.

“Ask away, silver owl.”

“I burn flesh

but not earth.

I feed earth

but not flesh.

I can be felt

but not touched.

I provide sight,

but I contain

no solid form.

I cannot

be seen.

What is my name?”

“Sunlight,” I respond promptly.

“What troubles me now

you soon shall see

is why good and light

are known to me.

Man has said

again and again,

‘Do as you please

for evil is none,

for good is none.’

The same man looks

to the cries

and the bloodstains

of the holocaust

and finds himself speaking

of the wretched ones

and the lives they are taking.”

My face is scarlet and I practically scream, “Why have you come to trouble me?” The owl’s eyes are like blue ceramic saucers steady and motionless.

“My friend, my friend, you cannot hide for long. No one need elucidate to you the good of the sunlight or the dark of the night.”

“Leave me in peace! I just want to sleep!” I swat at the owl and away he flies until he is one with the moonlight. Yet his words remain.

Here's today's hidden art:

The clues will only be done in photo form today. Lucky for you, this is actually pretty easy! Good luck.

Art will be hidden where I see fit. Seek it.

Reign of the White Elephant

Reign of the White Elephant

He sat in

the barren wasteland

where the kings

manufactured

a full mouth

of golden teeth,

 golden bridges,

and barricades.

Well he was

a son of

a king.

Now he was

no victim

to greed.

He never slept

beneath the weight

of the mocking sound

of all

that is wretched.

He followed the

chain of smoke

unraveling like that

of a shedding snake

 leaving its uncomfortable

dead shell on the ground

marked with tattoos

proclaiming the reign

of the white elephant.

The trigger was pulled

says the story of old

and there was peace

yet again.

How we mourn

for this loss,

for nothing

has come

without cost.

Art will be hidden where I see fit.

Seek it.

1. City bound.

2. Edgewater.

3. Follow the cat down the alley.

4. Get wrapped up in some BLANKETS.

Define its Value

Nothing

read

clearly through

the warped

glass structure

that I crafted

to contain

this earth

this season.

All I want

is

outside

my footprints

quickly fading

as

the

seaweed soaked chemicals

reduce their

carved out form.

 A new pattern

creases the sand.

It

Lines

 the inevitable

constant shifts

of wrath,

of fear,

 of peace.

Seems

the face

is worth

exactly

nine thousand

and sixty two

dollars.

But is it

really so?

Art will be hidden where I see fit.

Seek it.

1. City bound.

2. Logan square.

3. Taste what is bitter, taste what is sweet.