Tag: Thought

The Beast has no fears, no tears…

~ elizabethannjohnsonmurphree ~ Leave a comment

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The Beast has no fears, no tears…
The deep voice foul and inflamed cast its disgusting face toward the gentle and the brave. Some said do not listen to the lusting rage of the golden haired Beast who wants to be called King. He scorns the Justice of God; the Beast rages on day and night, it never recoils. Many minds quickly became splintered fissures, torn by the evil of this Beast; these people, their minds seized could see no guilt in the actions of the beast, nor those who encouraged his deceit.
Greed gives power to those who listen to the Beast with its insatiability to rule and those who praise its vices; they become fully surrendered to blindness. The darkness that the Beast spreads across the land called doom; it is a mockery of what the people once knew. Does no one oppose this creature from Hell? No, they soon become weary souls lost within the claws of its contamination. The Beast is spreading a life of splendor, all the while depriving many souls of truth.
This Beast is a serpent, those who follow in its path become deaf to its words, and he claims to be godlike. It dwells above human law, as people walk a dark, narrow and steep path to build his greatness, his followers will struggle in slime while the Beast spreads its rage. The air that once smelled sweet now nothing more than a stench of a murky swamp, most choking on the wrath that one must endure to please and promote the Beast who is untouchable in the highest of places looking down upon its own created filth.
The Beast has no tears or fears, damned are those who praise its glory, damned are those who wallow in its kingdom feeling the gnashing of its teeth. It is the wailing, deplorable and unceasing, that will be heard over what was once the land of greatness and plenty. Laughter can be heard within the walls of those who served him. The gentle Savior will come and the Beast will turn its head away. There will be fear and anguish, people will see the heat of his messages go cold, the beast will fall before the people, and it will have no words. It will walk into hell unhindered and descend upon the path trembling, his time over, his voice stilled by the gentle people.

 

AUTHOR’S NOTE: The Beast with golden hair wants to rule the world it is the people, all people that must open their eyes and see the filth that spews from his mouth, lies. It is not God who can save the people, it is their free will and they must save themselves.

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When will the Earths Lights go out…

~ elizabethannjohnsonmurphree ~ 1 Comment

When will the Earths Lights go out…
The earth turns in her floating world, and she is tired by the changing of time, seasons, inhabited by those who bring wraith to her. As humans we look for things will turn out in a magnificent way, we dwell on how things will unfold. Yet, as humans, we keep interfering with her growth, her peace, her beauty. She weeps, the tears fall, trickling, sprawling into the depths of hopelessness.
We, as humans stand still doing nothing to save her, if we have made the wrong choices it is the children who must pay, so why do we care? There is no gain for the earth of today, caring is left in the past, the yesterdays of our own childhood. We show no wisdom, and the great “Sayers” who say nothing, sit and let her be destroyed.
There is no victory, we will not leave her as we found her, slow dank waters will form swamps as the rivers dry up, in the woods the cedars’ will soon be like winter bones. EARTH, she will stand for many eternities, but then she will die and her light will go out.

 

©elizabethannjohnsonmurphree

AUTHOR’S NOTE: We cannot think about the “seasons” without bringing Mother Earth into the fold. She has served us well, beware she made not be here forever, be good to her.

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The Passing of Time…

~ elizabethannjohnsonmurphree ~ 2 Comments

The Passing of Time…

What can one say about growing old? The loss of shape, hiding beneath many layers of clothing, sparkle gone from one’s eyes. One is no longer beautiful in the eyes of others. The function of one’s body grows weaker, sitting in that doomed place with little human contact. The sunset-glow felt in the beginning of each day is gone. Dreams escape the demented mind, as does the ordinariness of each day.

There is certain knowledge within the fog of the mind of the aged; those long ago youthful days may flitter across the closed window of the mind. Nonetheless, the prison door never opens the walled-in prison unknown to most. It is the last stage of life, frozen within and quite, a phantom of themselves, a hollow ghost.

No longer, a figure of delight, no longer surrounded by the sweet smell of life. Like the snow-covered winter landscape, life is stilled; a shadow of one’s long ago self. Life from the womb begins a painful story, a stormy world like summer storms, winds and rain. Beauty spent and done, despite Hells rage now silenced by the passing of time. With the eyes looking pass what lies ahead, bondage no longer a threat as the mind realizes it will end in death.

 

©elizabethannjohnsonmurphree

AUTHOR’S NOTE: Aging
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Flying with Broken Wings

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Excerpt: Flying with Broken Wings

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A Journey into a Life of Bipolar, Cerebral Palsy, Depression and Schizophrenia Disorders

All Copyrights © 2017 Elizabeth Ann Johnson-Murphree

“The Demons”

[Mom] Flying with Broken Wings is the story of my daughter Charlotte, her journey from Heaven to Earth and the “unexpected” return back to Heaven when she was fifty-two-years old.

Charlotte was born on July 13, 1958, she would soon travel a path through life carrying the special circumstance of conditions that she did never denied, bipolar, cerebral palsy, and depression and schizophrenia disorders.

This is her story through my eyes, heart and mind. The many conversations agreements and disagreements with her, the outwardly life that I knew she lived, all that would be part of her life. In addition, the inter struggle that she would know. Her life, much like a rushing river, that entwined with my own and that of her family.

My memory is long and vivid…most of her demons arrived in her mid-twenties; in the beginning Charlotte was a happy child and young girl whose problems were mental and physical challenges in life, her school, yet without the demons of the mind.

When she became older, any typical day was as one in the fall of 1997; I was leaving for work and Charlotte was sitting in the middle of her bed talking in the voices of a man, woman and sometimes a little girl. She never gave these personas’ a name; however, I knew the tone of their voices, all too well.

This behavior was a red flag for me; before I went to work, I gather up all the sharp knives, everything sharp putting them in the trunk of my car. I knew what might happen when I got home.

I arrived that night standing by my car staring up at our living room windows. Yes, Charlotte lived with me for thirty-nine-years, I pretended not to see her look out the window; when suddenly the lights went out I knew that she would be in her dark bedroom. I knew when I walked in the door that, the Charlotte I knew when I went to work that day had gone away.

In her place was the persona of the man and woman with evil minds whose intent was to control her and harm me. The little girl seems to be there for Charlotte’s protection, she always talk kind and sweet, begging Charlotte to stay calm and not listen to the other voices.

The first words I would hear upon walking in the apartment was that of Charlotte’s own voice begging the man to go away, and then he would speak to her with a low menacing evil sound coming through Charlotte.

“Get up, you know what you should do”, his voice almost a low growl.

Suddenly she was standing in the kitchen, towering over me. I tried to show no emotion, I ask how her night went, my usual patter before I went into the bathroom. My own voice as calm and normal as I could make it sound. I showered, turned on the TV while she pace from kitchen to her bedroom, stopping occasionally to stare irately at me. I took my car keys and handbag into my bedroom; closed the door placing a security stick under the doorknob.

I went to bed secure that she could not get to me. I was not afraid to die; I did not want was for Charlotte to live out her life with such a heinous act hanging over her. It was then that I heard the man voice calling from the other side of my bedroom door, the man with no name.

“Better not go to sleep, I’ll cut your troth.”

The personas that developed over time were deep within Charlotte’s psyche; he and the woman could take over her thoughts and actions any time that they wanted too. I had tried to talk to him and the woman before, begging both to leave her alone; they would curse me and say they were going to kill Charlotte and me too.

The incident is only one of many that she and I would have to endure. I am in hopes that Charlotte’s story can help others who live under the same conditions to learn that living with these children is a forever changing pattern, one did not know where to go or what to do to help their child in those days, they were usually medicated to a zombie state.

That is not true of today, the twenty-first-century; there are many avenues of help for the children and their parents. I want parents to stay strong and let their children young or adult know that they are not alone!   Love them and hold onto them.

The Gilded Gate…

~ elizabethannjohnsonmurphree ~ 5 Comments

Dreaming – The Gilded Gate…

Thunder bellows from the sky, descending to valley floor, it roused me from a deep sleep; the one lying beside me does not move, they do not wake. It quickly becomes darker; the profound sounds hold angrily above the valley they bounce off the forest, trees sways in the wind. Without warning, the winds spiral upward into the thunder and lightning. The valley was like a ringed abyss. The wind continued like torment and blaspheming.

A sadness began to settle in, is this the outer certainty of hell? I questioned my faith, would my lover and I die within this doomed place, God please hear my pleading. I cried. Did I fall asleep, did I fall into a restless dream, and then an obedient voice was heard. Within this dream. I witnessed countless people, their hopelessness as they walked slowly through a gate.

The dream continued on, leaving me bewildered in my darkest deepest sleep. Then rose a widening light, it filled half of the darkness, “Who Master are those that walk through the gilded gate”. My master smiles at me, it was then that the gate opens to me wide green lawns stretched as far as the eyes could see. Then marvelous spirits approached. I moved quickly trying to walk into the moving light.

I woke and the darkness fell around me, the wind had left the valley, I would live for another day.

©elizabethannjohnsonmurphree

AUTHOR’S NOTE: A Dream

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Excerpt: Poetry from Rhythm Rhyme Thoughts

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Dance

My life was not to be, it stopped, astonished, I hold to the memory as you would a child upon your lap, I grow old without growing. I most frequently return the grave. The grave will not give up my child. I am an old woman with nothing left but memories.

I have no home to go back too, no one wants me to visit, aunts, uncles all dead. No longer does anyone whisper of them. I wish the people of my youth were gathered in one place. Nevertheless, it was not to be, not for me, no mother, no father, their all in the graveyard.

The child in me is ready to go home, to change, and to stand by the road crying out “I am home”. I stand on the stump of my childhood. Life is still lost. The branches of my tree are barren, only air fills that space. The world that was my world.

I am all burned out, a flash in a century, now ash. No one notices me here on the stump by the road, the sap runs out of the trees; I too will soon do the slow dance toward my permanent home.

Copyright 2018

 

 

The Certainties of Life…

~ elizabethannjohnsonmurphree ~ 6 Comments

The Certainties of Life…

Life is an uncertain race where most people do no more than run in place, there can be happiness, sadness, and around every corner a surprise; yet hope blooms.

Life is what one must create within their allotted space, or sit on the sidelines and wait leaving their journey to fate.

Life is not all joy floating upon the winds of time; there are rights and wrongs; and unknown quandaries, setbacks, and living means moving forward.

Life quickly passes, fair and cloudy days, laughter and tears, and then the warmth of the sun subsides ones fears.

Life may mean walking in the valleys of despair until fate starts an upward climb, living with happiness, or grief; always trust the heart and mind.

Life lived in harmony with others, loving, caring and expectations met; seeds of livelihood sown, repentance locked away for God to judge; we strive and labor until we pass on.

©elizabethannjohnsonmurphree

AUTHOR’S NOTE: A poem

 
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Realm of Peace…

~ elizabethannjohnsonmurphree ~ 15 Comments

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Elizabeth Ann Johnson-Murphree

 

Realm of Peace…

In the far recesses of your mind, have you ever given thought to “Who am I”? I know that I have been a daughter, a sister, a mother, grand and great-grandmother, wife, friend and held management positions in the work force. Now, I consider myself an artist and writer. All of my identities, everything that I have been and who I am now, still I ask myself “Who am I”?

If I don’t really know who I am, how can I know if I have wasted many years searching? Much of life’s suffering is because people do not know who they are, their true self. Have I met the goals that I set for myself in my life, or did I set any? Will I ever discover my true self? In the winter of my life is it important for me to continue my search, have I truly experienced a spiritual awakening?

I am certain that we are pawns in life on some level. We care for people; family, friends and many of us live a life of boring labor/jobs. Do moments of our memories reveal beauty and grace, is chaos written into the crevices of our face? Are our lives painful as we remember, as life rewinds, unfolding, sadly were we born into a different time? In our weakness, do we hide behind the veil of truth that we are miserable, lost, waiting for an Angel to bring happiness and wealth into our lives?

Do the voices inside our heads penetrate the unhappiness that we may have suffered through bad times? Are our memories like waves beating upon the shore line and does it pass quickly, memories like the sand returning to the sea? Between the swirls of time I ask myself, “Who am I”, if I defeat the ache of disappointments will this miserable burden I carry go away? Does this anguished world possess my soul? Nonetheless, I am human and I try to look past the ruse of my own life and rise to carry myself into a peaceful realm of tomorrow.

 
©elizabethannjohnsonmurphree

 

AUTHOR’S NOTE: Who am I, what is my identity? If memories are the base line in my understanding who I am, then I must continue to search. I do know that I am a unique and complex individual who continues on a journey, and even though I must question my own thoughts, I want to continue on this unknown path into the winter of my life.
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