Beginnings in media res

1. As I slowly disappeared in my tardy shrink’s waiting room, my eyes continually landed on a “Disaster Plan” flyer. It sported a mere ambulance picture with no emergency numbers, and loomed over a choking emergency chart. I puzzled how I would stop choking on my self-destructive thoughts and escape the disaster that was my expectant 54-year torturous life span. 
2. John slipped the umpteenth millionth resume envelope into the building’s rusty mail slot. The slot creaked emphatically and digested his last stamp from the month-old full roll. It gulped his current request for work. 
3. The narrower she focused, her sight increased. Her faded vision opened a panorama, concentrated vistas that revealed persevering patches in the kaleidoscopic quilt of her personal experiences. 
4.  “I’m sitting here because I don’t feel well,” the bundled, ruddy-faced woman declared to the guy entering the elevator. 
5. Bullet-riddled war fields and stark-uniformed troops littered inner city streets in Al Qaeda-occupied counties. Both insurgencies bore similar dressings; nobody could win. The president called his war-mongered cabinet to divine a graceful withdrawal from drug-torn, poverty-infested Middle-Eastern landscapes. 
6. She slipped and boomed back-flat on a sheet-ice bed; her son laughed at her. She told her neighbor that, no, in fact, she was not all right. The neighbor said, “Oh, okay,” and abruptly relocked her door. 
7. Acrid urine fumes and soiled dishwater stench reeked throughout her apartment; clean and dirty laundry heaps littered the hallway; and three boxes of unopened mail enveloped table tops and open floor spaces. She wept a little, turned on her side, and fell asleep while her TV shattered silence. 
8. At Christmas dinner, she could not ignore the beatific cherubic faces that shone from her cousins’ faces. She remembered when holiday magic enlightened her countenance, but now joy materialized in a second-person voice. She lost her first-person voice after parenthood emerged. 
9. Her stroke produced picture images instead of colorless words, providing the new wrinkle of more entertaining thoughts that seemed to obscure communication. At least, that’s what she believed. 
10. Coming home to her struck mother, who could not longer talk or walk, seemed insanely awkward. More to the point, she couldn’t stay with her Mom because the 24-hour nurse occupied the guest bedroom. She felt prematurely stripped of her inheritance.

WITHOUT EMOTION By Kathy Powers

In the land of static dark and light,

only shadow moved. Reproaching whispers

unsuccessfully attempted to control shadows’ actions.

Infinite shadows followed light,

hid in dark, remained deaf and mute

to the prodding prompts. Anxiety,

the country’s name, existed in

circular paranoia. Only shadow dodging

purposed the population, endlessly 

running from undefined fear.

In fact, purpose had no purpose.

Until after millennia of shadow play:

sun introduced colors , colors begot growth,

growth welcomed choice, and

shadows textured the existence palette.

Then there was music, cacophony and language.

With so many varied entities, structures formed

to organize and repress behavioral expansion,

lest pandemonium arise and destroy the new tableau.

These structures resembled the whispers that

tried to influence before-shadows, 

with the same unproductive effect.

When a big bang erupted, the world of dark,

light and shadow reformed. And so, 

life resumed, repeating endlessly, 

with unfeeling entities performing their

unknown meanings of haphazard existence.

I FELL By Kathy Powers

I shine,
Feels fine,
Don’t pine
Just shine.

I glow
And flow
To show
No woe.

SUMMERTIME By Kathy Powers

Summer, a quarter timepiece,
A sticky, sweet section
Of low energy and high temperature.

In Chicago, dog-breath afternoons
With Michigan’s blustery, cooling breezes
Energizes colorful night lie, and,
Intimate conversations and loving embraces.

Summertime, a the time to dodge gang bullets
With an ice cream cone in hand
Chicago, a city of life-guarded beach-scape's.
With children digging water holes
Their adults seeking mating connections..

ART BY OUR MEMBERS & ACQUAINTANCES

Art  by our members and Acquaintances

PLEASE READ!!

We are no longer Silent Voices.
We are no longer affiliated with Community Counseling Centers of Chicago.
We are independent & free.
We are now under the moniker ARTISTS & WRITERS EMPOWERED (A.W.E.)
Thanks Ellen for the great name!