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Category Archives: Depression

Bayou Gauche Death…

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Bayou Gauche Death

untitledDrawing by Anneka Reay

 

At dawn, Ruby Waters life light went out, in the dark her children cried; a candle glowed against the rustic rough boards of the shanty shadowing the souls left behind.  Laid to rest quickly in the Louisiana heat; the moon cast a glow on her shallow grave.  The children’s tears burn hot upon their dirt-streaked faces as relatives who heard the shots took them away.  Drunken Gat Waters had shot his emaciated wife because she was pregnant again then yelled, “Now dat’ are two less mouths to feed”.  They were swamp folk no one outside Bayou Gauche would ever know.

 

 

 

 

Text Copyright © 2016 by Elizabeth Ann Johnson-Murphree 

Publishing Rights AsterialThoughts.100WordShortStories 2016 by Elizabeth Ann Johnson-Murphree

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Bayou Gauche Death is a work of fiction.  Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously.  Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

 

 

 

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Causalities of Life…

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The homeless cannot sleep on cold nights, some gather around burning barrels, men, women and children, forgotten, shattered and despised by those who are more fortunate… those who have a home, a job.  In the distance, you may hear a baby cry.  Mothers’, Fathers’ are begging for food, living on the streets, no jobs, the family no longer sound. 

Government talks end up in contradictions, a lifetime of poverty is the homeless prediction.   The spirit freezes, fruit of labors rot, life squeezes and struggles persist.   Bad luck smothering heart and soul, hope ceases to exist.  Shifting winds turn into storms, will the world grow wiser or beaten back into servility?  Trust departed, a cardboard box in the streets is where the homeless make their beds, hope disappears and the future appears dead.  Wake up America! 

 

 

Writing

©2017.elizabethannjohnsonmurphree

 

 

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Altered Senses  (A piece from 2016)

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Altered Senses  (A piece from 2016)

Existence, scene after scene,

characteristic of life’s

environment, and promises

that reveal nothing, the past

descends like rain from the

sky, washing away all dreams.

Phantoms of youth chanting

within the soul, paths blocked;

evil has spread across the

landscape of a lifetime.

Loneliness limits love and

happiness; boundaries slow

down the process of moving

into the future shrouded with

abundant solitude from where

there is no escape.

Rethink the future!

©2016.elizabethannjohnsonmurphree

Echoing Images from the Soul FREE February 10 – February 14 at Amazon/Kindle

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For Brian…

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For  Brian…

All is quiet accept the music in my head, remembered from something that was once so beautiful, now dead.  In the end, you were easily broken like glass, you touched my heart, and how was I to know that our time would so quickly pass?  My heart, blessed by your hands and your eyes, oh so dramatic, yet wise.  When you left, my heart became rigid with each beat, painful when I would see lovers kiss on a hushed city street

These memories are like arrows in my heart; nothing but death could have torn us apart.  Now I am old, and I dream of a time when my heart was not filled with such sorrow.  When the sunlight falls upon my pallid face, I close my eyes asking God to take me away from this mourning place.

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All is barren accept the music in my head, remembered from something that was once so beautiful and sweet.  Soon I will feel your breath upon my cheek, as we stand side-by-side, on a far away shore walking Heaven’s golden streets forever more. 

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THINGS – FAMILY OR FRIENDS – NEED OR GREED

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Family or Friends-Need or Greed

We are collectors, closets

filled with things that

seldom use, are these

kept of need, or greed. 

 

We are collectors; the

cracked mirror in the

basement, Grandmas’ as

children it distorted our

faces, made us laugh,

need or greed. 

 

We are collectors; boxes

of colored papers, dried

plaster with tiny hands,

boxes of remembrances

that no one ever see’s, need

or greed.

 

We are collectors; that old

chair of Great-Grandmas’ fills

a corner in the den, as well as

Grandpas’ old gun given to him

by a friend, need or greed.

 

We are collectors; sometimes our

treasures shroud us in sorrow,

happiness or fear, still we hold them

dear and near, need or greed.

 

It is the same with people…friends

or family we are collectors of this

too.  We have held onto them through

happiness or sorrow, to be the

only one who gives, holds on and

keeps coming back for more sadness,

to be tossed away.

need or greed.

 

Collectors of things or people, it may

be time to clear out what we do not need,

and of the people that does not care and 

offends us, or that were in our lives for greed.

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©2017.elizabethannjohnsonmurphree

 

 

 

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The Intention to Deceive…

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An excerpt from “Fire, Rain and Lies”…

 

The intention to deceive…

A sad woman and her children stood in the graveyard on top of a small knoll watching the funeral service of her mother; asking herself, why she had come to this so-called deified ground.  The real “family”, the one acknowledged by a small gathering of people standing quietly next to the little mound of Alabama’s blood red dirt accepted the family, the two people and their children worthy of mourning the dead.  These worthy people sat in front of the casket, chairs prepared for a “family”.  A relative, a lecher, a pander of a church, an on-line bought preacher spoke of someone that he did not really know. 

There on the knoll stood four people, the woman too proud to let it show that she was being insulted and snubbed; her children protectively at her side.  Treated like yesterdays garbage upon arrival for this audacious occasion, shunned, hate shown without remorse from the “family”.  Why, because she dared to be there.  The dead, the woman in the casket had never wanted her, and although she came to see her faithfully, the selfish woman pushed her away.  Is there a hell for such people, should they or do they deserve to be called Mother?

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One week earlier, when the Mother lay dying… the lies began, “family” needed time to  open Wills, to move around assets to the “family” coffers.  Like so many years before, greed was again desperately trying to kill the seed.  Kept an aged body alive for financial gain, keeping “it” alive was beneficial. 

She was told not to come to the hospital.  The lies quickly followed, while all the time the entitlement that raged through the “family” was all that was present, no grief, instead of the grimness of death there were on faces of greedy ploys.  Gluttony bloomed before the sun would set upon that final day; looks of lying and take, take, take, their lives took on the presence of a forged tongue.  Always speaking of God, hope and prayer will not remove the presence of lies.

She left with her children knowing the “family” would hope that she would never return and they got what they wanted for a time.  She eventually returned in hopes of finding change, finding a family that wanted her, as she had always wanted them.  Lastly, she said her final good-bye. Never again, to face open jeers, false deeds, see honors lost; the price of greed can be at a great cost.  Roars of detest, to feel abhorrence of; hate; dislike intense continues now with the one’s that worry she may return.  Most of the “family” has since died but there still lies in the misty breath of strife… hate.  She is glad that the “bad omen” did not follow her in life and now destiny has finally caught up with the liar’s and their lives.          

 

©2017.elizabethannjohnsonmurphre

 

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Sanity and Sorrow… and other thoughts are among the writings in Asterial Thoughts.

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Sanity and Sorrow…

I hide behind a cloak of make-believe while dangerous storms of daily living blows across the recesses of my mind.  The habitual motion of putting one foot in front of the other tells me that I have arrive at my destination; deep into an empty world of denial.  Out there, out there in the world with humanity that has become swaddled in half-truth or total lies I find no happiness.  My sanctuary, my safe haven is within the walls that keeps me safe.  I sit in the center of “my universe” reflecting upon the beginning of what was to one day become me, unwanted.  I find myself lost in time, the starvation the need of conversation on a level of necessity to maintain sanity.  Life without love, destiny, fate, a yoke around my neck from birth; I carry the emotional scars since the beginning of my journey on earth.  Tomorrow’s path is certain to be long and steep, my anger runs deep.  Truth in those who would hurt me cannot be found.  I believe that sanity and sorrow are closely bound.    

 

 

©2017.elizabethannjohnsonmurphree

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