Sunday, August 18, 2013

Upon the Wall


One hand flitted through the once auburn hair.
Twirling it about her finger as she once did in school when pressed with hard questions.
Her eyes float over the pictures hung upon the wall.
That one of her at thirty seems familiar but she's not quite sure.
However, the woman is a stunner; she wishes she were as well.

Memories come and go like buses on a busy street
She never catches one and remembers her mother's words.
Don't run or fret yet. Patience wins in the end.
She once believed such words but her patience now grown quite worn.

She gives a shrug that finger still tightly entwined within her thinning locks.
A feeling comes and she believes it means hunger.
But, she has long since forgotten what those urges really mean.
She pushes to her full stature now a mere 4 foot 10.
Back in the day it was 5 foot two.

The curve in her back forces her head to hang low.
 No matter her destination she only sees her feet.
The feet of a dancer who long ago twirled,
Across a stage meant for only her and the watching world.

She no longer remembers the steps of those dances.
But when a sweet melody catches on the wind,
Her small frame begins to subtly swim through the air.
Becoming one with the music no one else is able to hear.

As she shuffles along a brief glimpse of present reality flashes in her mind's eye.
The children are all gone and she will no doubt, soon die.
A quick turn towards the kitchen, cupboards carefully peeled open.
A soft sigh crosses her dry lips as the hope she had upon entering is put to rest.

Only one can of food remains causing a mental debate.
Is she really hungry enough to eat this now?
The aide won't be by for three more days
And the social security and food stamps don't go a long way.
The can remains seated on the shelf for dire need.

Her hands dig through the ten bottles of medicine the doctor swears she needs.
If only the medicine were cheaper there might be some food to spare and perhaps a new plant.
The plants had been her passion an outpouring of her love in green's full bloom.
Those no longer hung across the living room.

The lids are easy open but a full twenty minutes it takes her to unclasp each one.
Counting out the pills once, twice, thrice each.
There is nothing of import in the refrigerator to wash them down with.
Instead a shaky hand fills a cup with rusted tap water then brings it to thin lips.

Swallowing down her only hope,
To stay alive long enough to see her children's faces.
To hear their laughter and voices once more light up this dreary space.
To once more feel the pull of her lips that places a smile upon her face.

She knows though they won't be coming.
Her aide the only face she sees now.
She shuffles back to her armchair well medicated now.
The pangs of hunger still annoy every once in a while.

Her mind slips back into the now normal fog.
It is easier this way to remember nothing at all.
Nothing to long for or be saddened by.
And another day passes as it has every other day before

Alone in her chair watching shadows play down the hall
Once more wondering who that stunner in the picture was that still hangs upon the wall...

~Divine Chaos

© Copyright 2013, Copyrighted.com Heather M. as Divine Chaos All Rights Reserved.

Photo Credit: Viktor Lyagushkin

Saturday, August 17, 2013

Feathered Dreams


Sleep permeates my being on a cellular level

Leaving me listless and barely responsive

Nighttime comes swiftly these days

Although waking comes much sooner

Dreams no longer mean anything

They are not even remembered upon groggily waking

The day begins with one minute melting into the next

Then finally again this small fragile bird 

Once more searches out the nest

Familiar leaves and twigs entwined tight against the wind

Only for the rain to drop the bottom out again

Thank you Mother Nature for wings that span the horizon

But why must these other dwellers build into my sky

Another tree found and the building of a nest begins anew

Then as before, sleep permeates my feathered body on a cellular level.

Tonight though it will be different

I will wake and mark my dreams upon the nest's walls

Stories for my younglings to take into the world

Making the long flights of these wings immortal.

~Divine Chaos

© Copyright 2013, Copyrighted.com Heather M. as Divine Chaos All Rights Reserved
.
Photo Credit: Nikol Vizioli

Thursday, August 15, 2013

Dusk


As the sun begins to set pink clouds shroud his arrival with dusk

I steal one last glimpse of the beauty above then slip back and slam the door tight

Darting to each window securing each lock

Blinds pulled down and curtains drawn close

The lamps hastily off not one drop of light invades this self-made coffin

Standing in the middle of the room I no longer hear the birds with songs

The crickets have left

Even the mosquitoes are gone

I take to the couch and curl into a ball

Soft velour cover pulled and snaked tight about my frame

A weak shield from him and his dark games

Moments seem like lifetimes as I sit and pray

That for once this will be the day

That he has forgotten where I live and wishes not my mind to play

Slumber sets in when I let down my guard for only an eye's blink 

Dreams begin but nightmares soon invade

He once again has found my secret space

The walls of my mind expand to meet the expectations of his demons

I succumb to the torture throughout the evening

Tighter I curl into a fetal position

My shield has slipped free now belonging to the floor

In repose I whimper but on he goes

Then  mercy imposes with dawn's breaking light

His back turns abruptly and he disappears from sight

I wake in a sweat, sleep clinging to my skin

But tonight he will return to begin this all once again...

~Divine Chaos

© Copyright 2013, Copyrighted.com Heather M. as Divine Chaos All Rights Reserved.

Photo Credit: Aphostol

Wednesday, August 14, 2013

Character Snippet ~ Zoey 101 (Part 2)


She woke in decent spirits, only a nagging urge to use the bathroom. Rolling from the bed as only a spry seven-year old can. One hand swipes away the sleep from the corner of her almond-shaped eyes. The other hand, after walking the few paces to the door, fell upon the knob. Fingers curled about the dull brass, twisting then jerking. Realization quickly sets in as she begins to do her little jig. This dance has become routine, executed with a dancer's ability as her hand slips up from the doorknob and curls into a small fist, which begins to bang on the door. 

"Dad. Daaaaaaaad? Daddy! I gotta go, please."

The continuous banging of her fist accompanied by the panic edged voice is the perfect cacophony to awaken even the dead. Apparently, this usual morning routine has once more paid off as she hears a familiar footfall followed by the scraping of the small latch being unhinged. She steps back and crosses her legs and buries her hands between her thighs as she waits for the door to  push inwards allowing her escape to the bathroom less than 300 feet away. He says nothing as her eyes settle upon him then dart to the bathroom door. He steps left and she sprints across the hall to find relief.

As she finishes, washing her hands then brushing her teeth, she hears him move back into his room. Drying her hands off before returning to her room she smiles to herself glad to be free and hear the familiar noises of him picking out his suit for the day. She crosses back to her room and begins digging through drawers to find something to wear. 

It makes no difference anyhow, all the kids at school shun her. Even though she wore the best of all brands and tried to be friendly she always found herself the victim of ridicule and loneliness. She never quite figured out why but it never stopped her from thinking that today would be the day she made it through a whole day of school happy and content.

~Divine Chaos

© Copyright 2013, Copyrighted.com Heather M. as Divine Chaos All Rights Reserved.

Photo Credit: James Jean

Monday, August 12, 2013

Sometimes


Every now and again it occurs to me 
what you and I were; will never again be.

Every now and then I remember your smile
But that rarely happens now, just every once in awhile.

Every now and again I see you in a crowd
when I begin to move forward, I remember such acts are no longer allowed
.
Every now and then I end up in our favorite spot
Then I remember all the things our love was not.

Every now and again I think about you
and now I sigh with relief that what once was has come to an end.

~Divine Chaos

© Copyright 2013, Copyrighted.com Heather M. as Divine Chaos All Rights Reserved.

Photo Credit: Brian Viveros

Tuesday, August 6, 2013

Play On


My dreams feel like the warmth of our entangled thoughts.

My dreams look like your wild abandon.

My dreams taste like raindrops on your skin.

My dreams sound like the beat of your heart
.
My dreams with you my proudest sin.

My dreams repeat each moment of the day
.
Play on.

~Divine Chaos

© Copyright 2013, Copyrighted.com Heather M. as Divine Chaos All Rights Reserved.

Photo Credit:Zena Holloway

Monday, August 5, 2013

Justin Bieber Reminds Us to Dream

Justin Bieber enters his dream at the Verizon Center

I know you read that title and thought I was SEO tracking, but I'm not. This weekend Justin Bieber reminded me of an important aspect of our dreams. I had the pleasure of going to see him with my eight year old daughter at the Verizon Center in Washington D.C. this past Saturday. At one point during the concert, Justin's voice cut through the cacophony of squealing teenage girls to thank all his family and fans. I believe his exact quote was, "I want to thank all of you here. Because of you I am living my dream."

At that very moment I thought that's it; that's my next post. Because I so often forget that my dreams are my own, but to an extent  without the support and help of those who love me and believe in my dreams I probably could not sustain those dreams. How many times do we all forget all the people who have helped make our dreams possible? We all obviously count our family and friends who have helped us in immeasurable and obvious ways. I know I can easily name those who are close to me that have helped me on my list of dreams, big and small.

What I often fail to remember is the minor players in the act that is my life. There have been times when a bus I am on is running late. I sit there in frustration, jaw clenched knowing I am not going to make the connecting bus, which now means I will be late walking into class. If I walk into class late I feel as though I am interrupting the professor and all eyes are on me. By the time I get to the only seat left way in the back I feel like a one man marching band making noise along the way. Then I get settled and I realize I have no idea what this professor is talking about because I've missed the slide show and introductory lecture making me wonder why I just didn't say eff this class and go study in the library until my next class begins.

But then something wonderful happens. I get off the one bus mumbling under my breath. My connecting bus is pulling off and there I am on the corner to give an angered send off when the bus stops and the driver waves me over. The driver, who has sen me nearly every day for two years, remembers my face not only stops but waits for the light to change so I can safely cross the street. When I climb the steps he smiles broadly and speaks while pulling off, "You know I wouldn't pull off without you." I thank him profusely and apologize for holding the bus up thankfully to make this gift better, there is still a seat--I won't have to stand.

See, it is the little people I often forget, I have a million little anecdotes which run this same gambit and it was Justin Bieber who reminded me of that this weekend. I may not have a symphony of teenage girls cheering me on, but I do have my own personal league of fans that includes the bus driver, the cashier who moves the line quickly, the neighbor who stops to ask how I am, the mail carrier who brings me some bit of hope in a letter, and countless others. I don't stop often enough to think of them until hindsight kicks in.

And that my friends is what the swaggy, Justin Bieber taught me this weekend. To remember that each person, even the naysayer who I feel compelled to prove wrong; is playing a part in my dreams. Each time one of you reads a post you are progressing my dreams. So for every family member who has stood beside and behind me, for every friend who has listened to my good and bad, to all the nameless strangers in my day-to-day life, and to each of you who find something here of enough worth to read till the end--I thank you. A million times over, I thank you, And for those who have forgotten to thank you for your major or minor roles in their dream's success, I thank you on their behalf because it has somehow led me to you personally and virtually.

And lastly, for my own pure enjoyment, a picture of me and my Punky at the concert where I was reminded to thank all the players in my dreams...


~Divine Chaos
© Copyright 2013, Copyrighted.com Heather M. as Divine Chaos All Rights Reserved.
Photo Credit: The Chaos herself.

Saturday, August 3, 2013

White Lies


She settles on the bench with great effort
Her legs will not see long and lean again
She places her purse aside her on the bench catching her breath
Then eyeing the purse and her environment
The purse's perch shifts to right under her arm

She cannot afford to lose the few bills meant to bring her through the month.
Nor can she afford to lose her day's prescription tightly sealed in the weekly pill-box.
One hand wanders to the thin see through scarf checking its placement
She knows the sheer material does not hide the thinned spots exposing the skin of her crown
When the wind whips up the street making the litter dance, she pulls her jacket tightly over her chest.
Her chin tucks down and becomes hidden in the oversized collar.

Another comes along and sits beside her.
Old and cloudy eyes cut to the side and notice the smile playing upon the lips of the girl beside her.
Her head cocks at the smile, bringing her features fully outside of the warmth and safety of her coat's collar.
Hands cursed with a permanent shake, she uses her pinky finger to push her glasses further across the bridge of her nose.
The girl widens her smile, seeing the old woman's interest now piqued.
The woman produces a sudden cough to clear a throat abused by Pall Mall's for decades

Breath now caught once more, a raspy voice wafts up from the small wrinkled form
"Jenny?"
The woman's face appears eager and hopeful
Knowing full well she is not this woman's Jenny
The girl purses her lips and gives a small, "hmm?"

"Is that you Jenny, lord knows I've not seen you in years? How's your mother, well I pray?"
The girl cocks one perfectly arched eyebrow considering the woman's words.
The man digging in the garbage can a few feet off turns for a moment
Shaking his head knowing the old bat is quite touched, this scene he's seen a thousand times before.

The girl ignores the shaking head and dismissive hand gesture he gives scooting across the bench.
Her hands dart forward to lay upon the woman's.
Her thumbs gently rub across thin fragile skin painted with liver spots
The woman at first startled is suddenly calmed by the slight gesture
The girl leans in and plants a small kiss upon the high brow before lowering her gaze to the woman's eyes
"I've missed you terribly and am so glad you recognized me"

The woman offers a thin-lipped smile that boasts just the hint of a full set of dentures.
She leans in closer speaking in the raspy voice, "I knew it was you, and your mother?"
The girl drops her head a moment and whispers, "She's passed, several years now."
The old woman tsk's and draws her tongue across the front of dentures
Once more reality hits her reminding her of how old she is. The only one left from the old days.

The girl bows her head and to the side looking at the woman, "Where are you headed too?"
The woman returns the girl's gaze, her confusion evident. "I've forgotten. Oh no, the bus I am waiting on the bus."
The girl accepts this response and offers another query, "The bus to where?"
Once more the old woman confused, unable to remember where it is she is to be.
The girl sits silently still caressing the cold hands outlined by veins.
She notes the woman's mental process and offers a destination.
"Home Perhaps?"

The old woman seems to regain some vigor as her chin lifts a touch higher.
"Yes, Home. Down by City Hall"
The girl takes in the information quietly appraising  and recalling what lay along the streets in that area.
Before the girl can answer the woman speaks again.
"I have to hurry or that damned Butchy will take my spot under the best tree, ya know"
The girl has known since sitting that this woman is lost in destination and spirit.

Wanting to be this woman's Jenny filled with light and grace
She stands and points just down the street.
"No, we live down there. I just came out to find you and bring you home."
The woman looks happy to hear she has a home but struggles to lift herself from the cold metal bench.
Her Jenny steps lightly, one hand wraps the old woman's waist.

"Don't worry I have you now."
The girl did not think twice about the gift she was about to give
Nor did she know it was her kindness that would allow the old woman to live.
When finally they made it to Jenny's front stoop, the old woman's shoulders began to droop.
The house was unfamiliar but much more inviting than the doorway of an abandoned building

She mustered her strength and pushed with her will. Realizing now this was not her Jenny.
Jenny paid no heed to the brief flash of cognizance that crossed the woman's eyes.
She simply placed her hand in the small of her back and eased her up the stairs.
Neither looked back and nor did they care.

Both lives were saved on that cold winter's day.
The love of Jenny and the old woman in grey.


~Divine Chaos

~Dedicated to the Homeless who sleep in the City Hall Square in Baltimore and across the world~

© Copyright 2013, Copyrighted.com

Photo Credit: Lee JeffriesKamatounia

Friday, August 2, 2013

Crafting the American Dream



Today as I was out with my youngest child having fun just hanging out at the park and having a quick-lunch. I smiled often as she beckoned over and over, "Watch mommy, are you watching, did you see me?" Of course, I had seen every version of the same swinging trick so there I was nodding in agreement that I totally saw the difference from swing trick 32 and swing trick 17. It was somewhere in the middle of this excursion that a thought flitted across the cluttered floorboards of my mind. I was able to keep focus noticing where it had hidden and memorizing that spot for indexing purposes.

Throughout the day I would briefly flip through mind files revisiting the previously scurrying thought. Occasionally my response to this mental review was positive and yet at other times I felt more meh about where I and my family stood within the tangible meaning of this thought. By now I am sure you're getting impatient with me and are wondering what this scuttling little thought was.

My focus kept wandering back to the thought, "Am I, my family, hell--anyone really living the American Dream?" I came at this thought from several different angles. Monetarily, nope I am nowhere near living the dream. Then I considered the freedom aspect. For the most part I do believe we live as close as one can now to the original intention of freedom, though my opinion there (if you care) is we could be doing a lot better in this area. I won't continue because then we might get into politics and then I might lose a friend or reader which is a no-no.



I considered then the visual image of the American Dream. Anyone over 30 I assume knows this portrait. The wife with the perfectly coiffed hair, the smiling all american dad grilling burgers and waving to a neighbor, spatula in hand. Of course there's the dog who is milling around the barbecue grill playing the role of a Hoover vacuum cleaner. Then out of nowhere bounds two angelic children. Blonde hair, blue eyes; the boy is looking quite dapper in his button shirt and little man pants that stop short at the knee. The girl of course resembles Cindy Brady with two pigtails that fall into perfect ringlets and tied off with red boys to offset her baby blue checkered plaid frock.
It was during this moment of complete Mommy checkout that my daughter started asking again about swing trick 405. I nodded and smiled, "Sure, I saw it, how could I not?" Now, I admit that was a lie, I had been looking blankly in her direction but I had not seen the last, oh; 100 or so more variations to swing tricking. I returned my attention to her and of course by now she was tired of maneuvering the swing into these so called tricks. Off she went to the treehouse which acts as a maze within and the only exit is two slides.


It was during her trailblazing through said treehouse that I actually snickered aloud when my thoughts returned to the old idyllic picture painted by years gone by of what the American Dream looked like. I snickered because my dream somehow does not resemble that picture at all. Mine looks a bit insane. There is no husband out back grilling because my dear hubby never knows when to take the food off. It is either burnt or raw. There is no in between. No my husband is calling me over as if there is a crisis to check the "doneness" of his BBQ masterpieces. I use the word masterpiece loosely here.
I do have the two children only mine are both girls, both with dark curly hair that. One loves to do her hair and the other has no idea what the concept of a brush is. Neither has blue eyes, they both have their father's brown eyes. One races with grace, spirit, and passion into any task wanting to know what is next. Typical eight year old tomboy. The other, well sadly; she trips over air. It's a running family joke that she is vertically challenged. However, she is my hippie chick. The world is rainbows and butterflies to her. The tomboy is more of an independent soul who faces life like it's a chess game.



As for me, I am a far cry from the mother in heels carting out a tray of lemonade and kissing everyone on the crown as I pass by them stopping at the dear hubby. Nope, I am in jeans and tennis shoes and straightening everything around me as I move because things out of line drive me bat shit crazy. I do cook every night and we do actually sit down at the dinner table together. But the truth is our family and life looks more like one of those paintings where the artists just randomly tosses different colored buckets of paint at a blank canvas. Yes, my life is splatters, blobs, and long lined dripping paths of mixed up paint
.
It was at this point, when I had, roughly, the visual image above locked into my mind's eye that I realized that the American Dream that was proposed not so long ago in shows like Leave it to BeaverThe Brady Bunch, and The Cosby Show has evolved. It has evolved as each of the previous shows mentioned evolved with the sociological environment of that decade. There is a reason why those old portraits that represent the American Dream are now considered vintage. And today I truly figured out why.

When you stop believing your American Dream must match a picture or show what you are doing is finally asserting freedom, that concept I briefly touched on like a 1000 words ago. We are free to make up our own American Dream and mine just happens to be a far cry in many respects to what I believed life was and the American dream were. Hell, I live in America. Home of the brave, Land of the free, and welcomer of dysfunction everywhere!

So today I realized that my version of the American Dream is simple, I have a hubby that I love and he loves to drive me bonkers. I have two girls with a 10 year age difference that are of mixed heritage and polar opposite dispositions. As for me, my lovely readers, I am the planning, organizing, straightening quack who isn't happy unless everything is neatly in it's place. I attribute that to having sloppy kids, my doctor calls it mild OCD. You can take your pick. But what I have is love, tons of it.  And I have drive and motivation. I have a safe place to live with the lights on and food in the refrigerator. I am in debt to my ears in student loans but by golly I am earning two degrees. I realized that these past 37 years I have painting the picture of my own American Dream. It may not be someone else's version but I am content beyond belief. And now with a bit of reframing, that picture looks more like this...

So what's your American Dream look like? Is it the chaos of mine that when you step back you realize the abstract butterfly or is it something entirely different? Feel free to comment and share what your American Dream looks like.

~DivineChaos

© Copyright 2013, Copyrighted.com

Thursday, August 1, 2013

Dreams Forgotten


I remember having a laundry list of dreams as a child. The innocence and passion of youth allows such big thinking without regard to the impositions of life and adulthood. Two major factors, separately and individually, they are able to wedge themselves in between your dreams making it difficult to choose between want and necessity. I am older now, though I am not entirely sure I am any wiser or else why would I be here contemplating dreams forgotten?

I imagine this thought pattern began after having children. I wanted and needed them to realize their dreams and hopes despite my inability to financially back the big dreams--there has to be a cutoff somewhere, right?

My oldest will be entering college this fall, comically we will be on the same campus. However, after years of struggling to help her with homework; I realized the adolescent mistake of dropping out of high school to be a full-time teenage mom. I was completely unprepared to help her navigate many school related issues. Homework was not only a headache but it was cause for heavy prayer at 2:45 p.m. I would look at the ceiling and pray that she did not have math homework because I was simply ill-equipped to help her with it. This of course resulted in guilt and often times self-directed anger.

I finally decided to take back three dreams simultaneously. I took GED classes for a year and then enrolled in college. As a result I can help my daughter with homework that was always just out of my scope of understanding. Those three accomplishments improved my outlook on life, parenting, and dreams. I realized that I was capable of fulfilling dreams that I considered forgone. I also taught my children that it is never too late to go back and finish what you've started. Hopefully, at the end of this academic year I will be leaving college with the two A.A.S. degrees in the medical field that I have worked on. I  can also add that my dream of finishing school and helping my daughter evoked in me a wish to strive for excellence, which has landed me in Honors classes and the Dean's List.

It was easy for me to give up on the dream of finishing school. I told myself that I was stupid and it was a waste of time. I was too busy with having a child. I could find a job anywhere without an education. Of course, I learned this was all untrue and just negative self-talk for justifying the dismissal of just a few of my dreams. I have now come to realize many of us as we age relabel our dreams as a bucket list, but why should we? A dream is a dream no matter how long it takes for it to be realized. There is no reason for anyone to diminish their self and their dreams by adding them to a bucket list and not chasing them as we thought we would and could as children.

Don't misunderstand, I do in fact have a bucket list, but I have removed from it those things that were life long dreams from my childhood and young adulthood. I now am able to look myself in the mirror without the negative self-talk that we all pretend does not exist. The only thing stopping me was me. I have proven to myself that dreams are not forgotten, they are revisited. And I am okay with that.

What dreams have you forgotten? Why not revisit them, the only thing stopping you is you.

~DivineChaos

© Copyright 2013, Copyrighted.com

Photo Credit: Tommy Cavarela

That is the Question...


Hi there.

To dream or not to dream, that is the question. Or more aptly, my question. In the course of my lengthy 37 years here on planet earth, I've had many dreams. Some have been forgotten, others given up on. Then there are those dreams that have constantly bounced about in the chaos that is my mind.

This post  serves as the landing page to a new series of blog posts dedicated to dreaming. I am truly excited to explore this topic through my penned chaos and with my readers.This is a work in progress, but you will always find the link to the next post in the series by visiting this landing page.

As always feel free to comment,  share, or offer an aspect I may have forgotten!

Series Content



~DivineChaos

© Copyright 2013, Copyrighted.com

Photo Credit: Jamal E. Josephs

Live


Live your dreams with your whole being

The Dream Blog Series

~DivineChaos

© Copyright 2013, Copyrighted.com

Photo Credit: believer9

Tuesday, July 30, 2013

Forgotten Reminders


Realization crashes over him
There is nothing more for him here
The love that once resided here has long since left
The shadows play across the wall
Revealing the light spots where pictures once stood

One hand touches the wall where his favorite photo hung
His eyes then look to the worn floorboards where it had crashed to so long ago
He turns slowly, eyes moving up the steps
Recalling the days when laughter was heard from above and below

A cold wind blows, his arms tuck tight to his sides
The shattered window allows this reminder tonight.
He shuffles slowly to the door not wishing to be here anymore
As he reaches the door he notices its slight movement
How long had he promised to fix that for her

He groans with pain and flings the door wide
Meeting the world again ripped of his pride
As he crosses the walk he notices her favorite tree
A circuit about it as one hand rubs the bark
Snow brushed aside now reveals the old marks

A crude heart carved upon the tree's skin
I love you now and I loved you then is carved within.
Had he known she had left such love letters would he have fixed the door?
Or would he still be right here wishing to hold her once more...

~DivineChaos

© Copyright 2013, Copyrighted.com

Photo Credit: Flaming Love

Monday, July 29, 2013

She Stands Alone


She stands alone buried in thoughts
Contemplating who she's been and all that she's not.
Tears prick at the edge of almond-shaped eyes
A quick snap of her neck allows her hair to hang low
Low enough to hide the tear's betrayal of a brave front
Hands dig further into deep pockets
half heartedly searching for the umpteenth time
maybe for spare change or just a shot of hope

Those who pass by seem not to notice the mousy girl
Standing alone in the center of the world
Hands come up empty and steal a swipe
Across moist lashes and choppy bangs
She moves a pace or two first left, no-no she moves right
She moves as though it takes three men's might.
The man in a rush in his charcoal suit offers no apology as he throws her off step
The last bit of dignity she possessed has finally left.

She stands alone buried in thoughts
Admitting to the world life does not turn out the way once thought
A sigh escapes and she struggles ahead
finding a spot where the grass is dead
Dropping low and curling tight
This small patch of earth is her bed tonight

When she awakes no dreams are meant to be remembered
Just another day trying to get by
another day of no one caring to ask why
The freckles that once danced across the bridge of her nose
are now covered in dust. No longer seen for a lover to count.
She no longer feels the pangs of hunger
She is too weighed down with more pressing matters

Who will love her and care to see
The woman she was and is meant to be.
She stands alone buried in thoughts
Finally accepting all that she's not.

~DivineChaos

*Dedicated to every girl in the world who has questioned her place in this world and those who fail to see her.*

© Copyright 2013, Copyrighted.com

Photo Credit: Google Search

Sunday, July 28, 2013

Zoe 101 ~ Character Snippet

   

     She was a pretty baby, born with a head full of thick black hair that would later turn blonde. She was enamoured with sucking her fingers; tall man and ring man. She squirmed and wriggled like any newborn. Her cries akin to a kitten's mew, soft and almost inaudible. Undecipherable faces flashed before her limited eyesight throughout the day producing a jerking arm movement meant to convey some need. Early on when she was still young and carried with her that new baby smell, those tactics worked. When she aged a bit the newness had worn off. The enigma of figuring out an infant had been replaced with the knowledge of imposed limitations stemming from her arrival and growth. 

     When she began to crawl and then later wobble a distance of three feet on short legs with wrinkled thighs reality sank in. What had once been seen as a blessing was now a hinderance and obstacle in the life of the adults near her. This situation was easily remedied with dark alleys and infant car-seats. A drive to the local bar was a joy for her until she was "safely" parked beneath a blown light post.  Her arms would stretch longingly to those in the front seat. With one foot out the door they could hear her plaintive cry, "Me come?" Chubby little fingers would unfurl then close repeatedly until a hollow, "not this time" was uttered.

     She had learned that the car was a home away from home albeit one she would not have chosen for herself.  With nothing but silence enveloping her she learned not to cry, there was no one to hear her. Boredom and curiosity would settle in quickly both pushing her to figure out how to unlatch herself from the restraint of the carseat and the car itself. She never did figure out the puzzle that was the backseat of a Pontiac Grand Prix but she knew she would spend many cold nights locked away within it under the guise of safety.

~DivineChaos

I hope you enjoyed this brief glimpse into the main character of my upcoming book, Zoe 101. Please feel free to give your opinion on this snippet in the comments or by using the contact form on the sidebar, Speak About It. As always, thank you for taking the time to find something worth reading here. ~DivineChaos

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