| Mindscapes Within the realms of reality, in an uncharted path through the brain course thoughts, words of the writer. Words flow, unstructured composing stories, poems that remain unwritten, floating along mindscapes and impulsive currents. Shock waves of scattered thoughts - music drifting through strawberry dreams while ice fairies tip toe around the rebel flag. Stanzas dance beyond the tongue out of reach, a subconscious desire to claim a word, thought... Far behind the writer's eyes lies midscapes of words that wait to become unleashed as the untamed animal that lurks within the shadows. georgia mae c. |
| I hate that woman who looks at me from the other side of the mirror. I see the pity and disbelief in her eyes. She doesn't understand why I stay. Black eye, bloody lip; tokens of love, right?? Scars, bruises, tears and broken promises. I'm sorry, I love you, I promise never to do it again. Deja vu. Much needed lies falling on trusting ears. I hate him. Concealer and eyeshadow on a pale pallet. Fine dust all over my vanity, covering my body. Why do I cover for him when I'm littered with human graffiti? That woman that's in there knows; she knows I tried to get away. She remembers when he flung me against the wall, struck my head against the stove. I can see the memories in her eyes just as clearly as I see the worry within her stance. She's seen too much, she's just too young to have lived through such hard times. Why is she still here? I admire her strength, because she believes in herself; she still believes in happiness. She just doesn't understand why I stay, while I can't understand why he's hurt the only one who stayed behind. She stands there watching me and for the first time in a year, I can look her in the eye. Maybe this is my day. I didn't die when he strangled me. I can still walk away. Maybe I can make it. Maybe I can escape. He'll find me someday, but I'll leave tonight.. No suitcase, no tears. I'm walking away. I'll never see her looking at me, covered in bruises, filled with fear. She's so strong, yet so weak. Will I ever really miss her? I'm leaving her behind, yet we grew up together. She's all I've had in so long. But it's time to live again. She's so sad and nearly broken. I've seen the pity in her eyes before, but now, it's for her. She's limping, bleeding, with a necklace of bruises. She's crying because this is it, this is our future. We'll never be the same again. But through the tears she smiles because she knows that I'm going to make it. The victim will walk away this time. georgia mae c. |
| Forgettable Sometimes the world is a long foreign film where there are no subtitles and I do not know the language. Everyone plays their part and portrays these brilliant moments of human emotion, but I only watch them. And then I notice that I am standing at the end of some unknown street, with people surrounding me but never seeing me, knowing me. They brush past but I never feel their touch, they smile and laugh in the sunshine, while the sun sets at the end of my street. I am not angry that I am alone, in a sea of people; but I am sad that you do not see me do not know me, or want to love me. I know that the credits of this movie will never have my name, and I will remain what I am- forgettable. --Georgia Mae C. |
| do not cry over my grave
when I die.
do not mourn and regret things left unsaid. leave only wildflowers behind when you visit, no store bought roses or carnations because I never liked them while alive so why would I now? bring me a child's paper rose or maybe the mistletoe that got you your first kiss. don�t read sermons and psalms over which to weep while sitting in a pew. instead, each mourner please stand up and say what one thing you liked about me, or what memory we shared that makes you smile . share the joy, not the pain and remember me in life not in death. for those gone always live on in you. |
| Thank you for sharing your time with me and wandering through the vast "wasteland" of my thoughts.--gc |