May 28, 2021…#334

Dear Followers and Readers, it would seem that over the past few months that I have been on the downside of health.  I have been in the hospital twice, and I am still fighting a health problem.  I just had my third fall, and I was in the hospital at the time.  This, of course led to a barrage of test.  The results more test than I care to count.  The final diagnosis on Thursday May 27 was bone cancer.  Needless to say my life has done a flip-flop and many adjustments must be made; over the next five months I will undergo chemotherapy, and most knows what that does to the body.  I am permanently over those months unable to walk without assistance; a wheelchair will allow me to move about without falling.  This plan may have a good outlook, walk alone, or I will have to continue with this mode of getting around.  My immune system is gone; therefore, I have to monitor my visitors.  I will continue to work on the blog when possible; since life for me is confined I may get more done that first thought.  I have a work of fiction that I want to complete.  I will stay busy and fight with all I have to beat the odds and the seven year life span that the doctors have said I have to live.  I want to thank you for your continued support and hope you will continue to stop by to see any new entries.

All my love and adoration,

EAJM

The Birth of Madness…#333

Cotton, Southern Gold

The oppressed give birth to madness.  Loathing emotions
Born out of the pits of darkness holds an
When anger and depression fuse together,
Emptiness and void that can never find
Contentment.
Madness thinks of death, is in harmony with
Stillness.  It feels pain, lives in blackness,
Hopes for nothing; survives as a opponent
Living life.
Be aware…
Its name is madness; a spawn created of
Anger and depressions fusion.





©2021.elizabethannjohnsonmurphree

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Life…#332

Life

With each mornings shaft of light 
I begin my conflict of words, sometimes 
I let the tears fall and sadness engulfs 
me.  Sometimes I smile!  I tell myself to 
“hush”; it is too late my soul dies further 
toward the end as time goes on.
Sometimes I am weak, my heart locked 
away too long?  Thoughts are concealed, 
feared, live and move forward out of blame.  
The heart beats on as the voices in my head 
feed from the heart with each beat.  My words 
continue quarreling with my mind.
Has life been no more that random destiny’s?  
How lighthearted my life has been, lies, 
lies to keep the outside world in dumbness.  
Daily I drink from the cup of dissension, 
and erratic thoughts, words, look into my soul, 
despite pending doom I float thoughtless in 
the river of my life with my words clinging 
to my throat like gnarled fingers.     
Buried in the cesspools gathering on the 
shore the river flows with ambiguity.  Life is 
eternally blind!  My words flow from within, 
buried in knowledge, found by fire.  The 
mystery of my heart beats, words line by line. 
 Am   I  worthless.  Hour after hour the 
words demand power, read what pulses 
through my veins.
Life flows, arrives and moves on, from 
morning glow to evening sunset; it winds 
through the valley’s filling with expression.  
The words, a story from the hours past, they 
rise from within to the page swirling in the 
cesspool at the river’s edge.  They cannot move
 on into the river of life, they must remain as 
the past.  I wait for the morning shaft of light
 and life.      

©2021.elizabethannjohnsonmurphree

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