"Lizard Brain"

A clear objective—survival       
Tuck head down and traipse through desert sands—       

            An Arrakis boiling with religious certitudes,     

                      ancient political nuances   

Multitudinous paths leading to destruction       
Ignore the razor winds that slice through reason   
And only hone instinct   

Survive   
Clutch the knife of insanity in your righteous fist   
Rip into the enemy’s flesh   
Retaliate—an eye for an eye—until all are blind   
Blades become bombs   
Homes reduce to rubble housing mutilated families   

Logic stumbles through the wreckage   
And gets lost in the stench of decay   
Becomes overburdened and overrun by molecular rage—   

            (Passed down from evangelist to fanatic     

                       to zealot to extremist)   

Until it dries up and dies   

 

Copyright 2014 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman 

 

"Forgive and Forget"

Over time, the walls of self-defense become chinked with wear   
Overgrown by ivy, flowering each spring with climbing roses,     
The origins for brick and mortar fade in memory     
The enemy’s conniving and manipulation forgotten with each passing season     
Over time, the story of the their cruelty mutates     
Into a softer narrative of the human frailty found within their souls  
And the need to forgive and forget their heartless and vindictive natures      
Grows because I must repair my damaged spirit      
Over time, the protective barriers seem superfluous      
My internal longings to belong create false hope      
That “this time” will prove different—better      
That somehow they’ve gentled with time      
Foolish me—to pull down the walls, to retell the tale        
To desire their love    
Foolish me—to provide them opportunity, to crush me     
Under the weight of my forgiveness

      
Copyright 2014 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman   

"Future"

   

         We walk through nightmares of the past,

living an existence of future fears.

            Desperately struggling among the mountainous

crags of pre-fabricated foods and chemically made beer cans,

our test tube babies weep with bitter need,

as automated mothers

rock rhythmically back and forth.

            No one saw today as it was to be.

            We run through our own living hell,

Never feeling, desiring, or loving.

            Mirrors are no longer needed,

nor are youthful photographs taken—

for images of ourselves are seen scrambling

among the barren garbage dumps

searching for rustic vestiges of yesterday—

an identity.

            No one saw today as it was to be.

            We trudge through old decaying minds,

trying to forget our own impotence.

            Whimpering trepidations never cease,

for like howling canines long starved for passion,

the souls of society disintegrated

into a pile of biological residue.

            And no one say today as it was to be.

Copyright 1975 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman

"Old Man"

Old man

Bloated

with self-importance

Fooled and conned

others

Not me

Expressionless blue eyes criticize

No love

For you

or you

or you

or you

or you

Unless . . .

Words acid-filled

spoken with a soulless smile

No love

For you

or you

or you

or you

or you

Unless . . .

Copyright 2026 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman

 

"The Rope of Love"

My hands grasp it   
               rough and coarse   
               prickling against my fingers   
I test its strength   
               tugging hard   
               yanking it this way and that   
Tentatively, I test my weight   
               Will it bear me?   
               Will it hold me up?   
               Will it carry me   
                     across the chasms   
                     over the ridges   
                     through thundering rivers?   
I examine it carefully   
               searching for flaws   
               weaknesses in its entwined strands   
Winding upon itself      
               enwrapping my fingers   
               enveloping my hand   
I trust it   
               swinging over the unknown   
               over the pit of my insecurities   
It gouges my hands   
               rubs me raw and blistered   
               as I swing   
It bears me   
               holds me   
                    carries me   
               even as it hurts me   
I don’t let go   
               and the pain lessens   
               my feet touch the ground   
I unwind it from my hand   
               my shaking fingers   
               smoothing against its heat   
I untie it   
               bind it loosely around me   
               feel its weight   
Its rough and coarse hairs   
               tickle my cheek   
               and I smile   
                     in safety   
                     in security   
                     in satisfaction   

Copyright 1995 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman