Voice-Over


Voice Over

Listen to my voice. Listen to the sound of my voice intoned the old Victrola.

Throes of Spiritual Passion
Ecstasy, Passion — A Holy Orgasmic Release.

Leda began her hair color ritual in the usual way. She carefully laid out the tools of her trade on the bathroom sink and the top of the commode. Being a small bathroom there was not much space but Leda made do within her sanctuary. Hair color, towels, mirror, comb, gloves, check. Now Leda was ready. Using a wide tooth comb she divided her thick unruly curls into sections applying even amounts of color first to her roots then all the way through to the ends.

Pulling the comb through her mane Leda envisioned LeRoi’s rough hewn yet well groomed hands entangling themselves within the kinks and knaps of mother Africa all the while gently massaging her scalp and kissing the nape of her neck. Leda massaged the remaining color through her tangled tresses then set the timer for 20 minutes walking the short distance to her bedroom to meditate while the process worked its magic.

During the 20 minutes of meditation Leda visualized her lover LeRoi sitting next to her on the bed speaking softly and gently in his deep Country Kitchen flavored with hints of Brooklyn accent all the while kissing her brows, the bridge of her nose and finally her lips. He sometimes stopped to look deeply into her eyes mentally willing the both of them to become one flesh.

She could feel the bristle of fresh grown five o’clock shadow against her face all the while falling into a deep blend of mahogany skin intermingled with African, Native American and French blood lines. From his lips issued the voices of ancient Kings worshipping the Queens of Africa, Sheba and Candace. Raspy rivulets of Pleasure streamed down her thick thighs.  His hands, His lips, His body emoted sucker cup tendrils adhering to every sensitive site on her body.  Sighs and moans escaped softly parted lips.

Suddenly the buzz of the timer interrupted her reverie and off she went to turn on the shower preparing to rinse out the excess color treatment. As Leda stepped under the powerful flow of the water LeRoi’s spirit stepped in with her and they were transported to the thunder of Caribbean waterfalls, enveloped in thunder of the cascading streams. LeRoi’s hands were like the streams of water entering into every sensitive place of her temple. She could feel his lips and hands as they worked their way down from her neck, breasts to that soft mound of flesh above her pubic area where he loved to rest his head after a night of lovemaking.

He cupped her full derriere with his hands enjoying the firmness of a well developed ass pulling her in and closer to him.

Water and Burgundy ran down over the nooks and crannies of her curves. Fountains of scented oils sprayed anointing from the Seven Continents co-mingling with her own pheromone essence.

Water and Burgundy ran down over the nooks and crannies of her curves. Volcanic orgasmic waves shoot forth.

Ring, ring, ring, the sound of the phone brought Leda out of her fantasy and quickly toweled off and managed to answer before the machine kicked in.

“Greetings Empress of the Seven Lands. I just arrived at JFK. Taking a taxi to your place. See you in a few minutes.”

Leda rejoiced. Her fantasy was about to become real. Her Lover was almost home. Her thoughts wandered to a romantic tryst in the hot tub at their friends chalet.

Evolution of Childhood InterPlanetary Dreams


Evolution of Childhood InterPlanetary Dreams

Underground Railroad

Grandmas Reign Quilt

Eva Sophronia Gordon Palmer -- Grandmother
Eva Sophronia Gordon Palmer — Grandmother

Epoch Heydays beat rhythm time Tempo bringing Glory Days and Golden Age into Earth, Space, time Continuum alignment around my being. Spiritual Discernment begins the convergence of planets, Moon-Womben Star-gazers endlessly birthing heavenly bodies and floating orbs.

Underground Railroad_2

Mother Africa as Creator Goddess singing Reign Blessings upon her children.

My World, the ones I saw in my Grandmother’s Quilt and the ever expanding Galaxies beyond Earth, Sky, Sun and Moon-Daughter Wishes, Hopes and Desires.

Ancient hand stretching finger Ancestor Dimensions reaching forward into time and eternity bringing revelation knowledge of history long past yet made fresh daily.

Troubles beating bloody fists upon my pate.

Belladonna into Nightshades.

Tethered by an unholy umbilical cord to a dead albatross. Dreams deluge.  Green metal Frigidaire Fan blowing air opposite it’s promised heat relief. Stub toe late shift Dad curses Castro and his Convertible. Bucolic heat wave summer in the city. 25 cent Ice Cream salvation dispensed by Mr. Softee. Martha Reeves and her Vandellas gyrating to Dancing in the Streets while kids follow her Piped Pipers.

Kool-Aid libation sugar screams ensue while transistor talking heads Ralph Kiner and Lindsey Nelson called Shea play by plays. Bygone days of Tri-Corn braids.  Fletcher’s Castoria Beef Iron Wine cocktails.   Childhood freedom beckons signalling release from adulthood chain gangs. Teeter-totter bring unbalanced superimposed idealized memories to double-doubted times past. It’s 1964 and my Dixie Peach anointed head snuggles with Panda pillow transcending time once again in the loving arms of Grandma Eva’s patchwork quilt.

Ebony Dark Chocolate Dreams ~ The Ultimate Orgasm


Ebony Dark Chocolate Dreams

His touch is Midnight seeping into my pores, saturating my veins and arteries, enveloping my very being. New galaxies are born when I am in his arms.

His voice is Throbbing Black Strap Molasses, Obsidian Opal honey dripped scented pleasure and I am a sponge absorbing every drop of honey syrup anointing. His pulsations become part of my being and we are in rhythmic unison.

Images of him undulate over a winding path from brain to heart. Match ignites flame causing trails of hot candle wax to slip into my peaks and valleys. We are a perfect coupling Symbiosis. We dissolve into the misty morning dawn, daybreak quenched fires, smoldering dreamily fantasy future liaisons.

 

Osiris & Isis
Osiris and Isis

Color Him Father. Color Him Love.


Memories of Daddy

HAPPY 85TH BIRTHDAY IN HEAVEN DADDY!! Feb 11, 1930 to May 13,1995. WE LOVE AND MISS YOU ALWAYS. DEBORAH AND STEPHEN

Edward G. Palmer Korean War
Edward G. Palmer
Korean War

Proverbs 13:22 English Standard Version (ESV) 22 A good man leaves an inheritance to his children’s children…….

My Dad was that Good Man. He fought the good fight of faith. Daddy persevered during his short stay on this earth always putting his family first and taking joy in our accomplishments. An inheritance is more than money, more than genetics or DNA. Our Dad left us an Inheritance of morals, values, good character, faith in ourselves, love and concern for our fellow humans and animals. Yes, speaking for my brother as well as myself, Stephen and I are truly proud to be our Dad’s Legacy into this world. Edward G. Palmer ~ Feb. 11, 1930 – May 13, 1995.

Stephen, Me & Daddy at my 1977 High School graduation.
Stephen, Me & Daddy at my 1977 High School graduation.

Edward G. Palmer was everything that his name Edward embodies: Edward is an English given name. It is derived from Old English words ead (meaning ‘wealth’, ‘fortune’ or ‘prosperous’) and weard (meaning ‘guardian’ or ‘protector’).

My Dad Believed in us!! And today my brother Stephen and I are all the better for Daddy’s faith in his children!

Tears of sadness for I will never on this earth Dance with my Father again. Daddy our next dance is in Heaven.

http://youtu.be/J_mzw2MdIFY

Our Florida vacation around 1986
Our Florida vacation around 1986

Our Dad was the Guardian, Protector and Provider for our family. A Loving Husband and Father. Dad’s middle name was Gordon which means “Beloved”. Truly he was a Beloved Father always looking out for his family. 

First Dance with My Father
First Dance with My Father

HAPPY FATHER’S DAY IN HEAVEN DADDY. LOVE, DeBorah and Stephen.

Edward Gordon Palmer_early 1950s

A Fortunate Juxtaposition of Life and Death


A Fortunate Juxtaposition of Life and Death

Gamepiece with a Dead Heron ("Falconer's Bag") Jan Weenix
Gamepiece with a Dead Heron (“Falconer’s Bag”)
Jan Weenix

There is Beauty to be found in Dead things artfully arranged in repose. Grecian planter serving as memorial Stele for avian souls at rest.

Gamepiece with a Dead Heron ("Falconer's Bag") Jan Weenix
Gamepiece with a Dead Heron (“Falconer’s Bag”)
Jan Weenix

Flowers bow in homage to the Falconers prey as their spirits prepare to board yon Gondola crossing River Styx. Soaring feathered ones stopped mid-flight. Will they be reborn in Nobler human forms only to send more fluttering gliding forms falling into the Abyss.