The Horror after Halloween!

Undecided ?

“No, No” Donald Trump (Click to purchase 16 x 20 poster prints)
Horror Hillary (to purchase poster prints click image)
Horror Hillary (to purchase 16x 20 poster prints click image)







Artwork by Lonny Lee


Never has election day been so scary!

Today I am going to break one of my own rules.  “Never talk politics”  I always thought that politics was beyond my realm of knowledge as a layperson.  I never strived to be one of those loquacious individuals that probably live near Capital Hill, who probably wear glasses, and watch CNN as a must-have cup of morning coffee so they can talk politics like it’s the weather.   Continue reading “The Horror after Halloween!”

A terrible case of inertia

It's a scorcher!
It’s a scorcher!


The heat is stabbing me.  If that could be such a thing. I don’t know what I am saying. I can’t put my thoughts together and if anything sounds too complicated I will just close my eyes, shake my head and turn away.  This is not a good feeling, especially when you begin to see black dots that look like little men crawling up on the sides of the buildings. Let’s pretend I didn’t just see that. I took a sip of my water bottle and moved over to the woman at the counter.

“What is a combo?” I asked the fast food attendant.  I furrowed my brows.  The woman on the other side of the counter looked at me as if I was making fun of her accent. This moment must have looked annoying to the man behind me who scowled with impatience. Now the woman attending the window looked flustered.  She probably wished she would’ve just called in sick.  A gust of heat blasted at us and I felt rather faint. Continue reading “A terrible case of inertia”

I wanted to speak but I had no voice

A potential plot idea for a bigger story. 

Sculpture from the Metropolitan Museum of Art
Sculpture from the Metropolitan Museum of Art


I had a good husband.…


After the birth of our first child, we decided it would be best for me to stay at home and take care of the household. Our son was born with a bone malformation called hip dysplasia that impeded him from walking, so he needed more care than an average child his age. The grief of my child’s ailment was a constant battle that took a toll on our family and its unity, not to mention our finances. Our insurance was a never ending labyrinth of bureaucracy that usually ended in denial or on a good day a minuscule partial payment for services. Continue reading “I wanted to speak but I had no voice”

Re-Defining True Love

A transformation of energy 

Unloved 1 Unloved 2 unloved 3 unloved4 unloved5 unloved7 unloved8

My shoes are by the door.

Leave it all outside.
Leave it all outside.

My home is my temple and just as sacred and intimate in many ways as a personal chat with God.  When I pray at temple my shoes are at the door so that I don’t bring with me whatever negativity haunts me from the outside world.  I clean my hands and feet in a  ritual to purify as much as possible the path that I have walked or the deeds that I have done. When I go home my shoes are at the door, so that it all the roads that I have walked stay behind me and I can truly make my home a pure and sacred place.

The Starving Artist

Hunger pangs.
Hunger pangs.

The love of a craft can be very empowering.  It can be very diminishing.  You can go through a manic high to a deplorable low.

The starving artist is limited by his own illness, one called poverty.  His art can be good but the cup half empty syndrome takes over when he sees himself not being able to feed himself.  He starves in many ways.  He labors arduously never to see a payday or a modicum of recognition.

“Yes, my art is good, but it will never sell,” he says to himself.

He lulls himself to sleep with these thoughts. This mantra becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy that is constantly devoted to a labor of failure.  The starving artist always works with one hand behind his back, the one he can’t see is impeding him from success.  His left hand can be just as good as his right, but the artist as open minded as he can be, fails to unrestrict himself from the dark nemesis that lies within his mind.

Grow… Evolve… Move forward, change your perspective, and don’t be a starving artist.

The Departure Part 3

I had forgotten. How much? I can’t even begin to wonder. Things in my head were running amok.
I observed the others more intently, with a different perspective than before I spoke to the pigeon. We all looked nervous, impatient and with a certain sense of resignation. Continue reading “The Departure Part 3”

The Departure Part 2

There is no time
There is no time

I waited.  I can’t describe how long I waited for because there seemed to be no day or night.  What would normally be hours or minutes, just simply didn’t count, you could tell by the broken clock at the top of the train station.  It stood still spaced out in incessant suspension.   Continue reading “The Departure Part 2”

Writing as a Habit

Nurture your creativity!

What constitutes something as a hobby?  That depends on who you are asking and how passionate they are about their hobbies.  Writing is a big mental challenge, and for those of you that are into fitness, it also is considered an exercise.  The mind is often a neglected part of the body that can get dull from an excess of information. We take our most precious organ for granted and fail to give it proper movement by encouraging independent thought or engaging those neurons.r Continue reading “Writing as a Habit”

The Departure Part 1

Street corner
Street corner

I just wanted enough to be on my way.  The sky was just clearing and most of us were all wet in one way or another.  The people passing by all wore their long faces.  Their square jawlines, sullen eyes and sunken cheekbones. It all spoke of some harshness that would not be mentioned out loud.

The birds in the sky all flew in circles.  I thought that was odd not because of their flight pattern but because of the feeling they gave me.  They seemed to fly together because they were afraid and uncertain.

The hooker on the corner, supposedly living the good life, did not have a smile.  Her bright red lipstick somehow seemed pale, even her feather fur-fru looked rather drab and gray.  She had her hand on her hip but despite her attitude of fronting, it was apparent she too suffered from the same moody virus that was in the air.

Continue reading “The Departure Part 1”