In the quite bright fiery beyond the clouds, twilight will die. Arid impressions beneath the mist transparently intense underneath the fog. Opaque altered fading slowly, entrancing demons dance before a grave. Luminous hesitant is the lover below, The tomb intense. The devil is dying beyond the fire, yet you will dream of the tomb.
I have multiple myeloma! I do not have a time factor, and no one knows the date or time of one’s death; thank goodness; MM can be one to ten years; there are three stages I am already in the last stage. Bone pain is a trademark symptom of multiple myeloma, and it’s common to feel it in the spine. I just today finished three months in a “Turtle Brace” because I broke my back in a fall on July 4th. MM is bone cancer. I also have anemia which keeps me tired, difficulty in walking any length of time. The MM makes it difficult to walk without pain and tiredness, even in short strolls. As the disease weakens your spinal bones, they lose the structural strength necessary to support your neck or back as well as they did before. The primary symptom of multiple myeloma is bone pain. Pain associated with multiple myeloma commonly affects the spine (backbone), ribcage, or hips and worsens movement. Severe, persistent pain in one location may indicate a bone fracture. I am on two types of pain medication, a slow-release and every four hours; without them, it may not be easy to tolerate the pain. I have so many projects, and I fear little time to complete them. I want to write a book that I have been taking notes on for years, and I also have painting projects. Most of my days spent resting or napping, and with that, I cannot sleep at night? I do have pills for that; they rarely work. Do, there is the update on me for now. Tomorrow is “chemo” day; I will be unable to post for several days following. Bear with me, please, and hopefully, the creative juices will begin to flow in a few days; a new poem, a story, a more happy post will follow. Have a great week and weekend to all.
I ran across this article today and thought it worth giving attention too. My garden is still graced with a flag that say’s “Black Lives Matter”! Is this still true, I hear less and less daily? The individual creating the BSU discussed in this post is my son Chuck Murphree. Chuck has moved on to another school where his “talent” in special education is needed, yet he continues to support the BSU students. Chuck is a YA author on mental health his first book, “Everything That Makes Us Feel”, and he has a second book coming out this winter, and already working on the third. I am very proud of him and believe that his work with the BSU should be continued by the teachers at the school. You can find Chuck’s books at Amazon.com, Barnes and Noble.com and in most book stores throughout the United States and Europe.
This was an excellent article…
We don’t fight with weapons; we fight with our voices’: Students create first Black Student Union at Waunakee High School
By Channel 3000 – Jan 21, 2020, 0
By Jamie Perez for Channel3000.com
Black students at Waunakee High School are hoping to ignite change or at least start a conversation.
About 20 students have helped create the school’s first Black Student Union (BSU). It all started with the special education teacher Chuck Murphree’s leadership.
Chuck Murphree said he started asking black students how they would like to form a BSU on campus. In October, his idea came to fruition.
Murphree said at; first, the meetings mainly were “A lot of community building, and getting to know each other. It was the first time they were able to sit down with other black students in the school. So that was powerful.”
Murphree said he wanted to create a non-judgmental space where students could learn by relating to one another. But when people look at Murphree, some are surprised that he was the person to take the lead on creating the group.
“Being a white man, somebody who is very aware of his own privilege in society, being able to sit with these young black people. For them to trust me, to pull me into those conversations, to hear their ideas on how we can change the school. To bring the awareness on how this needs to happen,” he said. “The first thing I said to them is, ‘How do you feel about a white man advising the Black Student Union?’ The kids said to me, ‘Mr. Murphree, who else is going to do it?’ It was as simple as that. It was the right thing to do, and the kids needed it.”
Murphree sits in on all the meetings, saying that he has already learned so much. He said other teachers are now expressing interest in coming to the sessions too.
“The district curriculum director recently contacted me about coming in and talking to the students about our curriculum and changing that so students of color can start seeing themselves in the curriculum,” Murphree said.
BSU members said the group’s point is to educate others, and they welcome people to just come to listen. “I just want first and foremost to educate and show younger students the representation of black people in power, black people making changes,” said a BSU member.
It is rare for two black students to be in the same classes together at Waunakee High School. The school doesn’t have any culture-based courses, so there isn’t much opportunity to learn about different people.
Having a BSU gives them that opportunity and provides black students a space to all sit in a room together for the first time.
The struggles black students face are often not understood by many of the other students at school who don’t relate to those same thoughts or feelings, like Martin Luther King Jr., to motivate the group can make a positive change without resorting to anger and violence.
“The things that we do daily are things that they could never even dream of,” that progress has already been made. But taking it a step further to dream even farther, and I don’t think they would want us to meet the goal and stop there.”
Murphree said he lets the students lead the conversations at BSU meetings and is happy to provide them a safe space to talk about matters.
“I’m really proud of these kids for what they’re doing, and I’m thankful for the administration too because they’re allowing us to keep moving forward with this,” Murphree said.
The BSU has already made a significant change in the school district. Murphree said because of the students’ desire to educate and change the curriculum to be more inclusive of black culture and black history, this will be the first year Waunakee High School will teach students about Black History Month.
Once fearless, spirit broken; Innocence no longer understanding the meaning of love. She writes upon an invisible page, while her Keepers spew words of rage. They held all of the treasures, her love, they never cared for her or the pain they gave.
Sorrow lingers in the twilight, while the tears of the Angels fall upon the earth, into the sea; remembering the beauty that once was and no longer can be. Quiet falls upon a sparkling shore; dreadful hours gone like a stormy wind in the night, as the Innocence soul takes its flight.
There will be no flowers covered by morning dew, darkness has left her spirit is free and new. What follows this perpetual fate, no tears, pain or hate; love no longer tossed away, earthly needs melted away; the Keepers heart remained evil until they took their last breath; Innocence is free with her death.
I sometimes picture myself being born in another time; I may sit for long periods of time letting my mind wander. My situation does not change much, I may be holding the bridle of a mule plowing fresh ground during planting time; if I find a piece of paper floating in the warm southern breeze, I chase it down. Maybe I can use it to write on, a bit of poetry or a short story about my life as a sharecropper’s daughter.
There is always proof somewhere in the scene that lets me know that I come from poor folk. I wear it like a suit of armor, it does not fail me. Like a pencil falling from my hand, I am brought back to the present, I am much older, much wiser, and mostly happy with where I am in life. I know that I will not see sixteen again, nor even thirty!
In my whole life, I only loved one boy, yes, a boy. A high school boy! That was before my life was turned upside down, he moved on with his life and at sixteen, I stood still. Was it love? I like to think so, of course, girls, women seem to fall into certain unclear slots of not knowing what they want. From farm girl to city girl before I had an adjustment to either. In those days the parents made the decisions, today the teens make their own decisions in most situations.
The mental health issues have not changed, just the teens are growing up much too fast. The schools, nor the parents fail to recognize that they are too far out of their comfort zone. The parents are allowing them to make decisions that are still being pondered by a much older age group; they are children making adult decisions. As parents, we are allowing them to do so, thus comes problems later in life.
When one of the great masters was dying his last words were “Sorrow will last forever”. That could be anyone’s epitaph as the eternal has its own laws.
During most of my life, I thought that I would die young; now at eighty-two I know that is not going to happen. I passed the deadline for that one years ago! I now live in that overwhelming situation that many elderly people find themselves in; sick enough to think that I am dying and well enough to keep breathing.
My body is bent and broken as I lean into that proverbial forest where I know that I will not go without food as I may have done in those younger days. Yet, the question may be how or why you hunger at all. Survival is no longer the situation; thought is given to if I even care?
Many of you may have had parents that would tuck you safely in your bed at night, tell you that “Everything will be all right”; but I did not have those parents. Mine dying of old age has since passed on, decades ago, my mother would not come home until long after I would have been in bed. My daddy, he patted me on the head like one of the dog’s saying “Nite”. If it was during the school year after the man chores, I was responsible for, I would finish my homework by an oil lamp, putting myself to bed.
The feeling became normal to living; I would eat whatever a nine-year-old could cook for myself and my daddy, write in a Big Chief note pad, love them both with all my heart and will until I join them wherever that may be! Well, just a note from memory!
I am back on-line and out of the hospital once again. I want to let you know about my latest episode with “Multi Myeloma”, bone cancer. I went into the Oncology center for my “Chemo” treatment Friday, August 20, 2021; the ride was uneventful as was the blood draw. I was taken to Dr. O, office for a consult before treatment. It was there that she informed me that my oxygen was low and that she was sending me via ambulance to the ER. The ride to the ER was the last thing that I rationally remembered.
I remembered one of the ER Doctors saying that I had, a fever, lungs filling up, Pneumonia, for many my age this is a death sentence! They begin treating the infection immediately, I explained that I needed to go home, that I had been in the hospital for two-half weeks, Rehab for two-weeks, and I had been gone from home for over one-month. Home only one day and was in Oncology for Chemo, I needed to go home. I remember IV’s and confusion!
I opened my eyes and it was still dark outside, a nurse told me it was August 21, 2021, I told her that I thought it was December 21, that my room was decorated for Christmas. She was very kind explaining that I had entered the hospital on August 20, 2021, it was early morning and there were no decorations in my room. Thank goodness she stayed with me continuing to explain that I was taking “mega” medications and that may be the reason for the delirium. I “thought” that I got up out of bed making my way outside where there was snow on the ground, a scene out of a movie “Four Season” that I had watched recently. I tried to remember the names of the other couple go no avail, not even the stage names or the man I was with, Alan Alda. My thoughts, I was dying and my children had decorated the room making it Christmas for me.
When morning light began to creep into the room my mind took another turn into the fantasy world of delirium. Christmas had disappeared, staff came in and out, I believed it was time to “shut up” and take in my surroundings, the only real thing was my son, Chuck.
With Chuck being there and a telephone call from Carl make me realize that they too had experienced this type of delusion, and Mia a wonderful nurse that stayed with me until he shift had ended. I continued to weigh in on my surroundings, I was suspicious of many things, and I tried to keep up with the staff, their names, and their positions in the hospital. I read each IV that hung over my head, the contents and did I know what they were giving me. My little knowledge of medicine gave me no help, but some of them I understood. The hospital was not trying to poison me! Chuck and Mia talk to me, he seem to have a great deal of understanding of what she was telling him, she had hugged me earlier, which was nice. I did begin to come out of it and by Saturday afternoon, once again had control of my senses.
My delirium is now gone… I had to spend several days in the hospital. The combo of medications placed me in that position, which I did not care for and hope to never experience again. I am back at the computer and tomorrow plan to work on my book.
My plan is to take all of the experiences that I have endured to put in the book that I had started before all of the health problems begin, Severe Anemia, Vitamin D Deficiency, No White Blood Cells, Cancerous Red Blood Cells, Bone Cancer and the latest a Broke Back and a Right Fracture of the Ankle, and on top of all of that Pneumonia. Yet, here I sit pounding out my latest story for all of you on the old keys. I and down but do not count me out!
I love each and every one of you and hope to work on a poem to post over the weekend, along with writing as much as possible on the book. The days are getting shorter and the deadline may be at hand. I hope that you will find my poetry books interesting and the book about my daughter compelling.
Take care of yourselves and each other.
*What are your thoughts on Sirhan Sirhan getting paroled?
I have spent the last three weeks in the hospital and one in a rehab/nursing facility, four weeks.. I fell! I was transported to the hospital. Within the one week that I was there I was diagnosed with bone cancer, severe anemia and the fall broke my back and right foot. I am on the mend; cancer will never go away, a rare one with no cure. The anemia will hopefully at one point change and the broke back will mend. I have a back brace that has to be ultra tight on me, and I must wear a brace for the rest of my life. Oh well, I still have my sense of humor!
That’s the bad news; the good is that I have mega writing time. I feel stripped of both worlds. Only my computer gives light to my days and nights, creating reality and chalets the world of imagination.
I want to share the meaning of creating poetry. What I see in a poem, it is an image in my mind that must have all the words come together to creates a story. When creating a poem it becomes the center of my existence. A writer, actually lives in two worlds, one of reality and one of make believe. There are times when they meld together; I fear one day the latter will become my only world. This may come with senility? At my age, I doubt I will ever see that stage of life.
Currently the world of make believe, fiction, blogging and imagination serves me well. It masks the pain! My site, gives me an outlet to create in my poetry how I feel emotionally too. The realm of imagination is one of quiet periods of reality and fiction join together to give the strength to find a reason for existence.
Peace and Love to each of you.
A Life Unrepressed
Lighting surges through a war of disrespectful words, tears descending, wet. In times of uncertainty, an unknown sadness is out of control, a smile, a gesture; or fear clings to a receptive body. Words may not bring rest or smiles, the soul deep within knows.
There is no one that can unlock the heart, nothing that can be said or felt. Thoughts, do not reveal or conceal, disguise the lack of sympathy, place blame and criticize. Alienate the voice, if only for one moment feel free. Fate, possession, strife, and life.
The genuine self, forced to obey, despite and un-regarded life blind to the hurt of others will embed hate eternally. The knowledge of life fire and force, walking down a rough path; deep pain. No spirit, hate has the power to control, nameless feelings that have conceded to a life unrepressed. Speak and act so no one will know hidden damage floating down to the soul.
The hidden self, inward strife and following demands; in return, a thousand nothings, all-miraculously give power. Hide in the depths of the soul; echo speaks of pain. Lackluster eyes stare, glare, and the words unspoken deafening creating fear. A bolt of tones, frightening, is piercing ears.
No feeling stirs, the heart laid plain, unaware of a life winding down, no meadows of flowers, no sun, no breeze, and the madness is elusive to all. No feeling, no respite. In quietness, the war of mocking words; the tears, the sadness. The thoughts of the sea, the crashing waves; soul and spirit sinking within its wet madness and always stay, stay, and stay.
Too late, love revealed itself in death, and the heart has nothing to say. Living and moving in disguises, alien, until the end. Life had nothing to possess, strife, identity. Blind, uncertainty, life no fire or restlessness, a thirst for the mystery of it all, nameless feelings lived in vain. The loss, the heart lay open for all to see, the hurt hidden twisted among the rubble of pain. Yet, after all that, there is tomorrow.
I sell collectibles and art online and often find the things I've found have hilarious and at times, dark stories to tell. It's thrilling for me to be creatively random, so always expect the unexpected in the things I share with you.