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

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

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

© Copyright 2013, Copyrighted.com

Photo Credit: 123RF

Cloudy With a Chance of Rain

Lately I have been doing a lot of work on my self talk and improving upon a damn near perfect person. Alright, I am exaggerating there, but if I don't say it, who will? Anyhoo, I digress.  I have come to realize that my personality type, INFJ, just does not support being an idle talker. I like to listen to people and analyze their thought patterns, verbage, and behaviors. I find I am quite content to just sit and listen due to the things I am able to extrapolate from people and their actions. 

I used to find myself trying to engage in conversations that I could care less about in order to appear friendly. The truth is though, that is fake.  However, this summer  I have found the rays of sunshine that peek through the clouds by finding the friend within rather than searching and then being disappointed by the friends without. I find I don't need a voluminous list of friends; only a select few who get me and are totally alright with who I am and who I am not. Do not misunderstand, I really do like people. I just prefer a deeper connection rather than superficial and base level civilities. I'd prefer to have friends rather than acquaintances. And that is what brought me through the  low hanging clouds in my mind. The type of clouds that tempt you to complain about the lack of sunshine rather than seeing them as protection from July's thick heat.

I was driving myself to find friends. Applying my own expectations on the relationships to become lasting friendships. Honestly, it just doesn't happen that way. Most won't like you for some or no reason. Some will pretend only to glean gossip to spread to their "real" friends. Others will lull you into a false sense of friendship only to one day leave you questioning what you could possibly have done wrong to garner their sudden distancing. In the end though I came to the conclusion that real friends will find me. That realization stopped the oh-shit-it's-gonna-be-a-70%-chance-of-rain-today mentality. 

Being an only child that was brought up in a home fueled by dysfunction, I found myself always searching for friends and family outside of my home base. I have carried this childish habit into my adult years and though I have realized this very thing before, this summer is the first time I have been truly accepting of the fact. And by accepting it I have changed it.  I am different and can sustain on my own without a plethora of friends and that's quite liberating. I have come to terms with the fact that if someone doesn't care for me that it's alright. I don't have to be a people pleaser. I can be a me pleaser instead. I can be my own friend. I can find solace in those who truly love me for me. I can find myself through thoughts,actions, growth, reading, and writing.

I guess the bottom line to this post is that it is unobjectionable to be exactly who are you. NO apologies and efforts re needed to change who you are today and who you are yet to become. Today, I am proud of who I am.  Though the day may be cloudy through the haze there is respite from the sun's blaze. Though it may rain the brown hue of death turns green with vitality and the joy of puddles can be found in adulthood as they once were in childhood. The external and internal scars have made me who I am and quite frankly those who don't see the real me are missing out because I am one damn fine woman. So take that with you. You too are damn fine.

~DivineChaos

© Copyright 2013, Copyrighted.com

Photo Credit: Google

The Other Side of When

Turmoil. Desperation. Life is incomplete.

That which is most desired not within reach.

Living a life in question is a depressing feat.

Turmoil, desperation; life is incomplete.

In paradise my hope resides awaiting our longed for meet.

Society and humankind, pleasure and pain they teach.

Turmoil. Desperation. Life is incomplete.

That which is most desired not within reach…

~DivineChaos

© Copyright 2013, Copyrighted.com

Photo Credit: Skullspiration

Summer's Defeat

Summer is now officially half over--according to my kiddos. Only six weeks left to do my best to cram as many fun-filled activities as I can on a budget that daily curses those who believe $8.45 an hour is overpay. The youngest, eight going on twenty-three, has explained to me in no uncertain terms that I am slacking. Apparently, I am not quite cool enough to grasp this eight year old's take on the summers of the 21st century as opposed to my summers of the oh-so-long-ago 20th century.

I won't lie, I was a bit taken back. Me, no longer cool? Unthinkable, unfathomable, quite unheard of. But alas, I have to admit that when I look at the other cooler, hipper, better paid parents I do seem quite drab. I am not in a place to head out each weekend to a new amusement park. I don't have the resources to join the local pool for a $600+ share to allow me a summer of sitting with parents who are with it. And to top it all off, anything that is in my price range seems to fall under the no-way-in-hell-am-I-doing-that-old-people-crap category. As much as I would like to, I just am not a wealthy woman when we are speaking monetarily and quite honestly, it's a bit disheartening. As a parent you wish you could whip your children off on every commercialized fantasy they see on television, but that simply is not my reality. The weight of this reality evoked a defeated sigh.

I became entrenched within a vision of me in a muumuu, red with enormous violet flowers. It, of course, had the two very deep and might I add convenient pockets to cart my glasses, false teeth, kleenex, and ill-gotten Sweet N' Low packets. My hair was thinning and a drab grey because of course I am to old to worry about my hair nor can I afford the box of Clairol to hide the grey. Not that it would matter, I wouldn't be able to read the directions because I will have forgotten where my glasses are. I'd find them an hour later though--I'm hoping.

This elaborate nightmare continued and I was -jeez- I don't even want to write it but I was....fat. Not just little old lady in a green polyester suit fat, no; this was morbidly obese. I am assuming from the many mornings spent at McDonald's getting breakfast and my free senior citizen's coffee on the side. Other seniors speak to me but I continuously forget mid sentence what my point was and just wave a hand as I suck on my gums since I have forgotten to Poligrip those dentures in on this particular morning. Eventually, I regain my train of thought and interrupt everyone in the vicinity to ramble on about the kids these days and how it was when I was knee high to a cricket.

It was about this time my daughter noticed my glazed eyes and open mouth and began poking me repeatedly. I snapped out of my horrific reverie and plastered a smile across my lips for her benefit. I didn't bother to explain what I was thinking despite her nagging. I just grabbed her small hand and wandered over to the dining room table and sat her down while we looked through some local family publications and the web for a Friday night outing that was by her terms--cool. We finally found one that was acceptable and affordable which pleased me to no ends because I was once again the owner of the cool factor.

Unfortunately though, this same scenario will be repeated again, too many times before school starts back up on August 26. And each time I will feel inferior and somewhat of a failure. I am sure my outlandish visions will be replayed, only the next time will have never before seen, extended, director's cut scenes included. I will do my best to once more soothe the savage beast that is a summer child without comparing myself to other parents. However, I am a comparer; so I will most certainly compare myself to her friend's parents in my mind and dread the first week back to school when every child is chock full of exuberance and stories about their summer. And once again my defeated sigh will get lost upon the stomping footfall of a child who has yet to learn the evils of money, parenting, and the world at large,

~DivineChaos

© Copyright 2013, Copyrighted.com

Photo Credit: No Place by Chris-tel

Thank You

Just a quick thank you to those who voted for my poem, Minnows. It was chosen as the winner. I am tickled that somewhere tucked safely away in the universe are those I don't know physically but know through spoken word and prose and have chosen to befriend me and my writing in such a manner. I hope you continue to visit me often and enjoy what I pen for you but most importantly, myself.
~DivineChaos
© Copyright 2013, Copyrighted.com
Photo Credit:Google

Twisted Ears

I went into hiding to find myself

the part of me that no longer feels connected to the rest

I have laughed and cried

I have yet though to find the answer to the oh so many whys

I shall return, I always do

and perhaps I will turn a phrase or two

one thing is embedded now deep within

Vacations are merely breaks love always lies within

So upon my return please wait with a smile

I sit here pondering for this now short while

How I will take hold of your mind by bending your ear

~DivineChaos

© Copyright 2013, Copyrighted.com

Photo Credit:Melanie Delon

The Poetry Challenge - Dreary Setting - 07/07/13- The Top Three!!!

Wow. Found by this blogger, I followed back to his blog and found this poetry challenge. Totally lifted my spirits to see my poem here. And the other two poems are truly wonderful so have a look at all of the poet's pages.
~DivineChaos

Mindshift

How I ended up here is a mystery
looking over a shoulder no path is left behind

Gaze shifts forward unable to cut through the brush
swaying for a moment in the warm embrace of dusk

Body puddles into a neat mess upon the unkempt grass
mind clouded by fear's heavy grasp

Dizzying are the thoughts that kick up the winds of nightmares past
choking to breathe the heart skips a beat

Ears prick suddenly at the whisper of tiny feet
shifting to the side curled into a crescent

The fairies appear with a dim glow
fluttering overhead their dust drifting like snow

Calm now is the body in sweet repose
kept under moonbeams that light the way

For dreams and wishes to come out to play
time moves so quickly it seems

Shooing away the last vestige of dreams
stretching out the kinks eyes finally blink

Forgetting so quickly the alternate universe
to stand now again on solid ground

The fairies have left, nowhere to be found
a sigh settles upon the morning breeze

The dream world, once more,has set you free.

~DivineChaos

© Copyright 2013, Copyrighted.com

Photo Credit: Endless Waiting

 

 

 

The Trifecta

I feel ambivalent this evening. Conflicted about the trifecta of today's American news. Today presented media framing that leaves me questioning how we call ourselves free in a democratic nation when we are bound and chained by the undercurrent of hypocrisy that lies just beneath the surface of our freedom.

Malala, Trayvon, and good old Texas. I don't even want to turn on the news this weekend because 60 minutes will do nothing more than regurgitate today's headlines; only this time they will have an hour to sugar coat it in instead of three different 60 second sound bytes. It boggles my mind how we view this news without it affecting us. Maybe some of us see the news and have become indifferent. Others, perhaps, unknowingly allow the negativity to slip beneath the mantle of their disposition and carry it with them through their days. Maybe others, I hope, can weed through the muck of the news to find a positive way to spin it within their mind and lives.

For me the day began with hearing how Texas is meddling in the private affairs of a woman and her uterus. Then a quick snap to Trayvon enticing viewers with possible closing arguments. You're welcome CNN for all the Neilson ratings you received vis a vie Trayvon. Then to wrap up my morning coffee, a supposed shot of hope by announcing Malala's 16th birthday.

Let me begin with Malala. I admire this girl greatly. However, it bothers me the way the media plays her as a card to bring up the hopes of viewers which have just been shocked by the harsh reality of what is going on right here in our own country. It saddens me that Malala is remembered for a day or for a two-minute clip on the morning news. Isn't she worth more than that? Isn't her struggle and strength deserving of a remembrance every day; here and abroad? Don't get me wrong, I passionately feel her story and can see how the media has brought her story to light allowing us a glimpse into other countries and cultures. In the same respect though, they muddy her essence and fight with their reporting. We take for granted the ease with which we pick up a book and fight over standardized testing when Malala and those she stands for cannot even walk to the freedom that is education.

Then there was Texas... What can I even begin to say about the fight women are having there?  Senator Wendy Davis did an amazing thing. I applaud her conviction and dedication. Yet instead of seeing the logic of Davis' filibuster, it has been demoted to a minor speed bump. The more pressing and all together dangerous question of the day was, which women were packing tampons. I cannot say I do not see the dark humor in that because I do. It is because I do that it bothers me so much. Roe v. Wade here comes Texas with their guns blazing, hide your tampons or you're likely to be shot on sight for hiding a concealed weapon. Is anyone else seeing the absurdity of such trivialities?

And lastly, Trayvon. A light extinguished. Social media, radio, television, and streaming media all shared in the trial. A whole year has gone by and this case is still unsettled. The eyes of Justice are blind they say but somehow I doubt that. Why else would Manslaughter have been slipped in as one of three possible verdicts? My opinion, because Justice is not blind. Justice sees and knows full well which state she is standing in. Justice knows which courtroom to be in. Justice is summoned along with the defendants and jurors. Justice knows full well Zimmerman might walk on 2nd Degree Murder. Sad isn't it, to know Justice already knows what is going to pass bar and what isn't. Is that perceptive of Justice or is it true she may not be quite so blind...

And now, here at the end of my evening I sit still reeling from the harsh reality of what we do to one another. What we choose to forget and what we still allow to continue. How after millenniums or eons, whichever school you prescribe to, we still have yet to just get it right? On paper it all sounds like a cakewalk but the reality is there is a lot of invisible ink that goes unseen between the neatly spaced and typeset rows of words that intend well. Days like today make me question why we haven't learned our lesson yet. How many more days must go by before we realize how fortunate and miraculous it is to be here with one another? How much longer will we continue to toss our dreams upon the waves only to have them dashed upon the shore of reality?

I sit here still ambivalent. The only progress I've made is writing this out and determining that the only purpose in all this senselessness is to find hope. Hope that justice will prevail. Hope that we don't set ourselves back centuries. Hope that a little girl can make it to school here and abroad. Hope that our dreams and intentions are able to one day be realized. Hope that we one day learn to live with love rather than fight with hatred. Hope that the news no longer has any negative stories to report on...

~DivineChaos

© Copyright 2013, Copyrighted.com

Photo Credit: Jarek Kubicki

Love rambles

Hey there, It's me. I've been thinking....again. While muddling through the random thoughts that take up play space in my mind, I latched onto one that seemed to be seeking attention. I considered for a moment and then let my mind take flight with it. I wonder how many of us have contemplated love. I mean love in all forms not just unrequited love. How do you know it's love? Maybe what you have is just really some lukewarm, hazy rendition of what you think love ought to be. I don't know and who am I to judge outside of my own little personal bubble, right?

In my life I can say I know love in many, different forms. I am in love with my husband. My children, all quite different, I love immeasurably. Immediate family, I love indifferently. Friends, well to be honest I am not the friendy type even though I love people. I love writing in a way I cannot even describe other than to say when I am writing I am one with my thoughts, feelings, and words. I love animals too, have several in fact and love to smooch them and call them lovely self esteem building names like dandy dog and fabulous feline. I know, I can be a dork; call it part of my charm; I digress though.

I love electricity, thank you Tesla! I mean, I really am enamoured with it. How did people manage before its invention? In fact, I love it even more when there's a power outage. That second you hear every appliance whirring back to life is joyous. I feel like I just won a gold medal, like I have defeated the ghosts of centuries past who went without such luxuries. I also love warm coats on cold days, watermelon, card games, and when I catch the bus on time. I could go on, but I am sure you see where I am going with all this.

With all these different types of love how do you know it really is love? Maybe I don't even fully grasp the concept of love if I am using it in sentences to convey my feelings of a jacket on a cold day. Seems as if I am sort of making a mockery of the word, yet my spirit tells me, "Nope, you're right." If my spirit is telling me I am right then maybe my mind is over thinking this whole condition of love. Maybe the point is to understand and name the subtle variances and nuances in each degree of love. Of course, I could then start delegating out new words from Roget's Thesaurus to signify each level or aspect of love but quite honestly I don't have the want or convicton to do so.

So what I came up with in the end is that by having known the absence of love for a long measure in my life it has made me more critical and analytical of love and all its forms. This isn't a bad thing though. I am able to love things more fully now having gone without. I look at things, and by things I literally mean things, such as: a chair, a coin, a car, etc. and realize how much I love these things and the possibilities and opportunities they afford us. Crazy talk here, but I swear I can see past the thing and admire the essence of what it was and is and that I love.

I never thought I'd say it, feel it, or admit it but having lived the past I have I am able to love the present and the possibilities of the future. I love and am loved, in many ways by many people, places, and events. I waited a long time for it and searched even. Seems like when I stopped looking and started simply living, love found me. I couldn't express it any other way but to say I have been blessed by some Divine Force that sees me worthy of finally noting, giving, and receiving love. Love is a rambling weed that has taken over the garden of who I am and who I wish to become. I kind of like the wild and whimsical cottage garden that recognizes that the weed is simply a flower too looking for the sun and a bit of love.

I wish the same for you.

~DivineChaos

© Copyright 2013, Copyrighted.com

Photo Credit: Andrei-Oprinca

 

Park Here

Wild abandon
I felt it there with you
Flying through the air
Laughter ringing off the clouds
Jumping free
Gliding within gravity for a moment's time
Out of breath
Silly grins painted across our faces
Push up and we're off again
Eyes closed, head tossed back
Arms aloft like an acrobat
Spinning circles for no reason at all
We were one, feeling ten feet tall
Wild abandon
I felt it there with you
Don't deny it
You felt it too.

~DivineChaos

Dedicated to my daughter and a day in the park

© Copyright 2013, Copyrighted.com

Photo Credit: Tristan + Trista

Join Me?

On your soapbox

Filled with self righteous indignation

Chest blown up

Inflating the ego echoing from your mouthpiece

Kill the messenger

Smite those who disagree

The only one right here is me, me, me.

Wave the gawkers over

Make yourself feel powerful with their proximity

Failing though to hear the laughter they hide

Agree to disagree

Oh no, not here

Only my arguments are valid

To hell with the rest of you.

This soapbox has given me fame

See, they listen now they know my name.

The avarice is recycled through

And now all the lookers on begin to spread apart

Come down from there

your vision is out of line

You may taint the young mind.

Once tainted what will we do?

Living in a world filled one by one

with people just like you...

~DivineChaos

© Copyright 2013, Copyrighted.com

Photo Credit: Google Search

Within

Aim high
Swing low
figures, you wouldn't know

Stand still
Breathe in
recognize all your sins

Hold fast
Keep faith
no need to run you're finally safe

Believe the voices
Repeat their song
another day will be gone before long

Expand
Release
now's your chance, search for peace

Reflect
Decide
the answer was always on the inside.

~DivineChaos

© Copyright 2013, Copyrighted.com

Photo Credit: City of the Fallen, Vol. III

Vandalized

Breaking and entering
The door still ajar allows moon rays to prism
Upon shards of glass left behind
Would be vandals attempting
To steal what is mine

Squirreled away safe
Beneath the spot where wooden boards chafe
I laugh aloud at what you were unable to take
The crime committed but your reward remains untaken

The corner of one lip curls upwards in delight
Safe still are mementos and tokens
Of the girl who reads and leaves books open
Quick was your depart a mess left in your wake
But not one piece of this soul were you able to have me forsake.

~DivineChaos
© Copyright 2013, Copyrighted.com

Photo Credit: Brian Viveros

Creep Lightly

It has occurred to me that the little girl I once was still occasionally wanders into my thoughts . Vaguely, almost ghost-like, subtly moving about just at the perimeter of my mind. Glimpses of her caught through peripheral vision. She is always gone from sight by the time I turn fully about. I've yet to figure out which corner or shadow she darts to. She haunts me with wild abandon, making her appearance when I least expect it. She plots with precision when she will drift by. She knows full well when I've forgotten her and devises brilliant entrances that shake the foundation of who I have become by reminding me of the past.

She's an eerie, little creature. Her eyes look too old for her face and beneath them are dark circles. Her limbs are gangly and wave akimbo drawing the eye to her slim build. Her hair once long enough to sit upon is now hacked short giving her a boyish feel. She never smiles widely, always a thin-lipped hint of a smile meant to hide the gap between her front teeth. Her knees have scratches upon them that never seem to go away. Scrubbing them at grandmother's behest with Chore Boy scrubbers never gets them quite white enough.

Sometimes when I stand near a window with blinds I feel her permeate and expand within me. Her hand rises to spread the blind slats apart. Leaning in she settles hazel eyes on the fading tail lights of a familiar car. They never diverge from the rear end of the car until it makes that left turn two blocks down the street. The hope that the car will make a turnabout quickly dissipates.  The slats snap back into place as she exhales a long sigh. Then as suddenly as she has entered she is gone, leaving me with nothing but a dark shroud of memories to reorganize and hide away. A tug of loneliness and a wave of questions emerge but I refuse to acknowledge them because they contradict the love one has for a parent, especially one no longer walking on Earth.

She is content to see me destroyed by self-doubt and self-loathing. I despise her and her story. I no longer welcome her here. No, now I push her out as quickly as my emotions will let me. I have removed the best of her in my aging, the dreams and plans but everything else I leave with her. She owns those wrongs and pain. The woman I am now has no place for anything from this creature's dark past. I am content alone.  Do not assume this means I am lonely; there is a distinct difference. No longer forced to draw stick figure friends upon the walls that love who I am and accept me for who I am not. They had no choice but to like their creator, they too were locked in the room with her. No escape. But those stick figures have long been painted over, the locks removed from all the doors.

No, this creature is not allowed in anymore. Not willingly. But the ding of a microwave summons her back in. Rushing to grab a TV dinner and sit upon the wood floors. Nose nearly touching the glass screen of the floor model television. The brown mush meant  to be a brownie eaten first as images of what a child's life is supposed to be like play across the screen. Boggled by the simplicity of their play written characters, I long for my  home to be with one of them.

The back door swings open, the creature's heart skips a beat. Scurrying around the parent's feet. There are no hugs straightaway, the doggie bag of liquor must be protected. Settled down with care not a drop will go undrunk. Those hazel eyes eagerly await the only bit of love she will receive this day. Unfortunately, the gin and tonic has dashed that chance away. Straggling back through the house, the button on the television is crossly turned off. The 12 steps to her room are longer this night, one hand slipping across the railing. Tossing herself on the bed, next to her pillow lays a book half read. Once more she escapes to an alternate universe, living her life through words. Hours later the familiar sound of latch and hook once more interrupt the reading of her book. Locked in again, for safety's sake.

I no longer allow this creature to reside in my mind, heart, and being yet she forces her way in anyhow. It has taken many years and countless visits to push the ethereal creature into the background. But today her visit is but a brief stay. I've taken a liking now to brighter days. And, this brightness seems to keep her at bay. But another day will rise and she will creep back through, trying her best my progress to undo. But this woman now has grown into her once gangly limbs, her mouth will break into a wide open grin. When dinner approaches many flock to her table, conversation is overflowing, no way she can be lonely.

It is a fine art this new woman the creature has become. The Art of Divine Chaos has begun.

~DivineChaos

© Copyright 2013, Copyrighted.com

Photo Credit: Iskander1989

Minnows

Minnows swim through the waves of thought

Making no headway through the mental onslaught

Some fall back, exhaustion crippling

Others fight on never attaining victory

Then there are those who see the truth

The soul of this body no longer possesses youth

Aged and withered the same angry crash of waves upon the northern shore

The fog hangs low here no respite for the swimmers' chore

The sun drops lower leaving the world a touch dimmer

The last minnow slows and takes a deep breath

One look around, no one is left

Finding his breath, gills expand

the mind of this body is dreary land.

~DivineChaos

© Copyright 2013, Copyrighted.com

Photo Credit: Barry Challice

The Unfolding

As I see it your words ought to reflect your intentions

No second guessing, no circumventing

As I see it your actions ought to be kind

Not one lonely person left behind

As I see it your deeds should produce  magic and butterflies

Not emphasize the hidden disguise

As I see it I am divine

Not  flawed like the thoughts of me you behold in your mind

Step back and watch my story unfold...

~DivineChaos

© Copyright 2013, Copyrighted.com

Photo Credit: 9Gag

Cafe`

Morning arrives and I trip lightly
down the stairs to find the morning lightning.

~DivineChaos

© Copyright 2013, Copyrighted.com

Photo Credit: Jan Zabransky

Blur

Again it starts like any other day,

I wake up to find myself in yet another haze.

Conditions to be met, obligations to be kept.

Unknown people to hurt me still to be met.

The shackle around my ankle feels tighter today

The board across my shoulders feels more tightly strung.

The spirit within feels more tightly wound.

Wading through fog, no clear end in sight

No clear distinction of wrong nor right

The day slips on into another fret filed night.

Nightmares and Monsters pay once again their respects

Etched upon the soul the evils they wrought and spent.

Tragic are the losses, lackluster are the wins

In this game called life there is only one end.

And each man will choose his life's personal sin.

Another night rolls into day stirring up the dust upon the winds.

No way to win and no way to play, the game evolves  for those willing to still play

The lines  blur between reality and fantasy this and every day,

Narrow are my soles that walk the blurred line

Is it even possible to find the destination in time?

Go! Advance! Push with force.

Cry a little louder, try a little harder, walk just a bit farther.

Forget there are no loved ones' arms to surround you

Just the ones waiting for your fall so your mind will be bound to your failures.

The blurred lines  never end, and once more a new day begins.

The haze as always has again settled in...

~DivineChaos

© Copyright 2013, Copyrighted.com

Photo Credit: Google Images

How Chaos Came to Be

It occurred to me that many may not understand the nom de plume I choose to write under, Divine Chaos. So, I figure I'll explain, it may offer insight into who I am and how I come to what you see posted within this blog.

A little over a decade ago, I started making major changes in my life. Some changes were intentional and deliberate others just happened. I began reflecting upon situations and people who made me feel some kind of way in my past. I began evaluating my behavior, actions, and parts I had played in my downfall. This was not a good time to know me-- I was a complete bish.

I grew up with little parenting, in fact, to say I received a little is being generous. For a long time I blamed my childhood on other areas of my life where things were not up to snuff. Once I was a bit older, and I use the world older loosely here; I was in a perpetual stage of anger. Anger at what I should have had as a child, anger at my lot in life, and anger at myself. The anger with myself was mostly because  I considered myself unworthy of those things I envied in other people and their families.

I went on living a life fueled by anger. I pushed good people out of my life because I labeled them as too good for me. I kept thugs, hustlers, and bad boys right up under my arm. See, this type of person is after the same thing you are-- acquaintance without ties and obligations. I searched for freedom through a lifestyle of dashes of liquor and long nights. It did not work, I was still questioning my existence.  In case you have yet to guess, I didn't get very far but I did my damn best to exhaust the use of anger. Finally, I gave in throwing my hands up and just saying, "Feck it all." For those contemplating a life of anger-- don't bother, it's highly overrated.

At some point I noticed I was not growing. I was an emotional child trapped in an adult body. So I did what I thought would save me- I dove into every religion I could trying to find out the purpose of life when you come from the place I had. To be quite honest, I learned a lot, however; none of it answered sufficiently my wish to find the purpose of, or rather, my purpose in life. I did use what I learned to re-evaluate many of my actions and life choices, so in many respects this soul-searching wasn't for naught. I also learned something I value highly to this day. Religion is not for me because truth has more than one door. I have opted for an eclectic mix of many teachings which make up my personal religion, better known as spirituality.

Once I quit putting my hopes in religion and books, questioning my childhood, and being someone I wasn't meant to be  and just began to try to see my life through the eyes of others; it dawned on me that my life was two things, divine and chaotic. The two complement and compete with one another. I realized that the idea of the perfect life was a fantasy. I decided I will be content with the life I  been given--one of divine chaos. I found that I could empathize with almost any book, movie, situation, or person due to my past. I could laugh and relate to the chaos and I could see the divine spark of intention and potential in myself and others.

I am a fractal. A fractal is a  curve or geometric figure, each part has the same statistical character as the whole. I began to realize that I am the essence behind the questioning voice in my head. That the sum of who I am is not greater than  parts of me, good or bad, that comprise my being. That up close, like a fractal, I look a hot, chaotic, mess but from above the whole picture is attained and my real beauty is seen.  So I accepted my lot because I can now, and because it is who I am.

So now, I have embraced both the Divine and the Chaos in my life. Please, do the same....

~Yours~

~DivineChaos

© Copyright 2013, Copyrighted.com



Photo Credits: Nietzsche & Fractal

Slipping on a Star

Sitting beside you yet watching from afar

Afraid of being myself,  I am not certain who you are.

Moments feel like lifetimes each one allowed to slip by.

You don't question my silence and I don't wonder why.

Why do we pretend we care ,when the reality is not one is willing to share?

Drifting along one another in life, neither one cares about the others duress.

Typical, it seems for each one us to paddle along ungiving of trust.

Is it really so hard to be who we are; if I recall we are all made from stars.

So again I sit here beside you still not certain of who you are.

but this time your silence leaves no scar.

~DivineChaos

© Copyright 2013, Copyrighted.com

Photo Credit: Gemini Observatory/Lynette Cook

Declarations

It's the Fourth of July here in the states and already there are well wishers and those who've forgotten fireworks are technically best seen after dusk. I will not sit here and pretend that I have mused over the original 13 colonies and bald eagles. I did listen to a piece on UpWorthy narrated by Morgan Freeman. I learned that Jefferson had originally written into the draft of the Declaration of Independence a line on the moral depravity and human injustice of slavery. It was, of course, deleted. However, I found it intriguing to learn Jefferson, a slave-owning man, understood the injustice being perpetrated against a fellow-man because of his superfluous melatonin.

This left me thinking for a bit about how often we overlook prejudice and stereotypes still. Are we really free? How could one call himself free when still bound by the small-mindedness of perpetuating prejudice and stereotypes against others and himself?  It seems impossible to believe we have come so far yet we still have so much further to go. An endless journey of sorts it would seem. We impose stereotypes through media, through clothing, and through economics. Yes, some of us even use skin color to decide someone's worth or lack thereof.

I can recall times in the past three decades where America fell far short of its Declaration, worse yet I can recall when I have personally fallen short of the Declaration--Jefferson's and my own. Perhaps I should elaborate here. I believe we all have a personal declaration. It is created by our thoughts, morals, ethics, feelings, and actions. It may not be penned across a scroll of parchment and signed by our own immediate founding fathers, but it is written across our mind, heart, spirit, and soul. Some days we master the intent of our declaration and others we simply don't make rank.

I have been guilty of many things which enslaves not only others but myself in pain. No, I have not murdered anyone or anything near that caliber. What I mean is that I have said or not said, done or not done, and acted or not acted in ways that were untrue to my declaration and by no means upheld others'. I have many times allowed myself to fall victim to my tongue and thoughts and in doing so have damaged myself and others.

Somehow, I don't think I have always allowed myself to be free. In that way where one is not concerned with the opinions of others but is simply happy and free being exactly who they are. And that is where I am at today. Rethinking my freedom and personal declaration. Evaluating what is truly important and allows me to be free of the shackles of others judgements, stereotypes, and prejudices. I want those around me to accept me for who I am and who I am not and I want to be free to give them the same in return. I want to honor justice and fairness just like our forefathers with mercy and forgiveness. Most importantly I want to continue to proofread and edit when necessary. Isn't that what true independence is?

So today I  revisit declarations, those imposed upon me by birthplace and those I have written for myself. I will be off later to celebrate with fireworks the birth of this nation and the rebirth of my declaration. I will do my best to make sure that my actions align with how my personal declaration reads. I will carry the fanfare on after this day and I will keep an eraser in my pocket to make changes when needed.

Ha, No bald eagles here; the eraser will be my icon. What's your's?

~DivineChaos

© Copyright 2013, Copyrighted.com

Photo Credit: Google

Designs

I realized at some point I would have to admit this fact to others, but most importantly to myself  in my life. I have done this in stages, the admitting, I mean. As a child, I was too young of mind to see the consequences of any of my actions. I think this is the way of most who are really quite young. And  quite honestly much of the destruction in my childhood has been created by those around me in unconscious and intentional ways. I did not realize then I am gifted with a foundation of familial dysfunction and destruction.

As I aged a bit and began to have relationships with the opposite sex I was still blind to the fact that I was indeed in the middle of adding to this foundation of destruction.  I choose unwisely more often than not. I choose to enter relationships that traded one brand of dysfunction for another. So naïve of me to believe that dysfunction has only one face. There I was designing my destruction unwittingly, allowing others to mistreat me. While I am not subscribing to the ideal that their behaviors are my fault, I do believe that by staying in these relationships that I was in fact showing up for the planning of my destruction.

I grew a bit more and though fearful of the unknown I had grown more fearful of the known. I was no longer willing to toss myself of the side of life's cliff. Somehow, I had determined that there has to be more to life than this. I recognized I had a small set of wings. Not upon my back like one of God's winged creatures, but rather, attached to my heart and spirit. I became the young sparrow, pushed out the nest with the hope of flying but not with the self-assuredness that I could fly.

I hit the ground hard. It took me a long time to muster faith in those wings again. I built an exterior that laced defensiveness, anger, and stoicism to prove to myself and the world that hitting the ground had not phased me. This habit was one of the first real self-imposed designs of destruction. Somehow, I believed this persona embodied strength. If I was strong there would be no way to get hurt again. That was insanity atop destruction.That niggling voice in your head telling you to back off from a situation out of fear turns the arrow on the compass. I was directionless.

Time has passed. Some days it has passed quickly, others years have seemed interminably long. I learned that I brought destruction upon myself. I have no control what others say or do. I have no control over whether they like me or not and approve of who I am or what I do. The destruction woven in my childhood by others, then co-signed by me in my young adult years taught others how to treat me. I played a significant role in that by staying around for continued dysfunction and destruction.

I have picked up many bad habits along the path of destruction and have spent a lot of time evaluating which of those habits are really serving me well. The hard outer shell which I once thought kept me shielded from pain has slowly cracked. The uselessness of this juvenile defense mechanism is  acknowledged for what it truly is. It does not keep pain out, it locks it within. I have become a much different person these days. I allow myself to be vulnerable and at times it is painful when someone takes advantage of that knowingly or unknowingly. I have learned that I am alright being quiet and alone with myself. If others choose to take me as I am or leave me to myself is of no consequence because beauty of  who I am now  has grown despite the scars of destruction.

I am now at a point in my life where it has dawned on me in the clearest of ways that I am the only one who can design who I am. If I put up with or stick around for another's insanity than I am choosing to internalize and once more destroy myself. Only I have the ability to change myself. Each entity in my life has taught me good and bad, right and wrong. I have learned what I want out of relationships, family, life, and myself. Occasionally, I get caught up in the minutiae but now I have the ability to stand back and look at the overall design of the project that is my life. When I realize I am backsliding, those wings beat a bit and the sound returns my eyes and spirit to the direction of designing castles in the sky rather than prisons on the earth. The sparrow though small still flies in these instances perching atop the castle ledges.

I am the architect of my destruction yet I am the creator of a slightly askew abstract that when finished will represent the colors of who I truly am and what I have overcome. Those who wish to see the work of art have free passes, those who don't can pick up my discarded plans and build their own destruction.

~DivineChaos

© Copyright 2013, Copyrighted.com

Photo Credit: Google

Faces

Today I woke up and put on my happy face. I traipsed down the stairs eager to pour my coffee and ease into my day. This attempt was thwarted by a 7:41 a.m. pre-recorded telemarketing call. Apparently, someone loves me dearly and thinks I am incredibly clumsy and feeble of body and PREPAID for me to be the (proud?) recipient of a brand spankin' new Life Alert System.

So of course I was then left with a few choices. Do I put on my WTF face, my disgruntled face, or the OMG I am getting old depressed face? I chose the WTF face and sloshed coffee about the table as I plopped the cordless on the table. -Yes, I know it is an antiquated notion, but I do still have a landline.

I had about a good 30 minutes to myself pondering my age over coffee before the 8 year old bounded down the stairs. Before she could hit the bottom step I had put on my mommy face.For those who may not be familiar with this face, it is a face that conveys love, concern, teaching, and if need be; discipline, at all times. This face has brought me years (and tears) of joy, pride,love, and happiness.Oh, and exasperation but could I really expect molding human beings not to be exasperating?

The mommy face stays on during all waking hours and occasionally in the wee hours of the night. However, the mommy face sometimes acts as a defense, hiding other faces within and beneath it. It can hide the face which shows I am feeling inadequate or the one that shows I'm feeling especially vulnerable.It many times reveals the hey that's my kid you're messing with face and the my heart breaks because I can't fix this for you face. This face also holds the title for the most times it has made me put on my impatience face and my I have no clue what to do right now face.

There is of course the work face. I am generally pretty proud of this face because I am able to help others when in this face and find it altogether easier to deal with the wave of stupid one can find when dealing with others. This face also allows me a reprieve from having to do everything perfectly because as a tutor each tutee learns in a different manner.

I find my friend face doesn't get used often enough. I am sure part of it is because how can you really trust everyone you meet that claims to be your friend?  Many put on this face, too; only for them it is a facade. A means to pick through your words and actions to use against you later  for mere idle gossip with others. When I put on this face it is attentive, loyal, and well intentioned despite mistakes.There is also the reality that I find many people to be not my type; however that could just be the fearful voice we all own in our minds.

Of course, I can't forget the wife face, This face is oftentimes the hardest as I feel obligated to act in some ways like June Cleaver; cooking, cleaning, looking pretty, and all the other things the good wife is (supposed?) to do.The wife face also holds the I'm getting annoyed with you, and the well known I have no idea who you are and what you are doing right now faces. The best of this face are the nested faces. The bright I am so happy to have you here with me face and the worst is the dark we are seriously about to have a row right now face.

The other faces, the ones which most often stay hidden from view and are rarely talked about are the I've been hurt before face, the can I trust you face, and the past still haunts me face. I've done a fair amount of work on these faces and have mostly hung them on the wall like Mardi Gras masks but occasionally I will revisit the wall and snag one down to wear for a bit.

It's a strange thing, these faces we wear. The ones we are comfortable showing and the ones we hide from view. The odd thing is many of us deny having these faces, the good, bad, and indifferent ones. I think we fail to remember that we are multi-faceted when dealing with our self and with others. I think the face of fear keeps us from admitting to such truths even if we pretend to be fearless.

Today, I think I am just going to own my many faces and be appreciative of having the ability to reveal and cycle through them. Each of my faces present an opportunity for growth, exploration, and learning through life's lessons. Each one of them contributes to who I have been, who I am now, and who I am yet to become. And, I am quite sure I will pick up a few new faces to add to my arsenal as life goes on.

~DivineChaos

© Copyright 2013, Copyrighted.com

Photo Credit: David Ho