Tim Clark

Tim Clark is a writer, blogger, novice political activist, husband and father, from Columbus, Ohio. He has proudly written for The Ugly Writers, Street Speech, a local homeless advocacy newspaper and Lefty Pop

Where’s The Exit, I Want to Leave

the ugly writers
And the virus is heating up. Gathering momentum. It moves through life, one terrible headline at a time. The novel coronavirus worms its way into everything with every new, terrible record; the most new infections, the highest number of deaths.

Humanity and Me

the ugly writers
I’ve always been a little bit of an outsider. It was no different with them, but they didn’t care. They didn’t ask for anything except to be treated as an equal, even when they were working so much harder than almost everybody. And, I guess that was all I wanted too, to be considered a part of something. It didn’t happen very often.

Measuring Time

It is no surprise why people have been fascinated with measuring time for decades. It is the thing that gets us through the day. Maybe Bob Dylan was on to something when he warned us “the times they are a changing’.”

The Wrong End

the ugly writers
Most times gun violence happens one side cries about the wasted lives, the senseless tragedy and the other cries about the lost opportunity. If only somebody else had a gun, then the game would have changed. The rules would have been different. It is a dangerous situation, but, somehow, the argument goes, the gunman with good intentions will prevail.

Winning, Losing and Loving Both

the ugly writers
Somehow I really think I am a better person for the stupidity. Somehow it seems that if you don’t let your hair down once in a while and just give in to silliness you can never understand life. If you don’t laugh at reality, reality will laugh at you.

Apocalypse Soon?

the ugly writers
Now, we walk away from treaties. We stop honoring commitments. We are going to show the world how an arms race is won. Nobody wins an arms race.

A Christmas Bout

the ugly writers
Before I could get to the stairs Santa appeared in front of the fire place. He dropped his bag, it hit the floor with a soft thud, almost inaudible. A soft groan escaped his lips as he placed the palm of his hands on his lower back and stretched. He looked exhausted.

Time And Space and Lunch

the ugly writers
Time is not actually a constant.  It is a variable, it takes longer for some time to go by, while other time just zooms past.  Looking back that would explain a lot.

The End of an Era

the ugly writers

Resistance is a measure of the ability to oppose. But, people don’t really understand that anymore.  Complacency is the zenith of mankind, and once it has been achieved it is a long slough to move backward. Which is almost funny,…

Treat the Symptom, Ignore the Problem

treat the symptom
Nobody chooses to be homeless, sleeping under awnings hoping the rain doesn’t soak everything you own, pressed against the side of a building trying to find a little warmth or relief from the sweltering heat and humidity.

It could get worse

the ugly writers
Behind the bright, sparkling eyes, and the quick, engaging smile, though, there was a worrying concern. She understands more than most the chaos and cruelty inflicted by the whims and caprices of the government.

The Past is the Future

the ugly writers
...And the end and aim of it all is to have the war over again, the next war that draws nearer and nearer, and it will be a good deal more horrible than the last. All that is perfectly clear and simple.