Seraph shall bear fruit in the time of seed not in the season of man

Seraph shall bear fruit in the time of seed not in the season of man***********************

Banyan Tree
Banyan Tree

Seraph sat on a freshly painted sepulchers remembering the future and forgetting the past. Pondering the worn dusty trail as it disappeared as thru evaporated water dried under Old Sol’s blistering heat but she didn’t have enough phases to set the stage.

The Murmur of our Passageways died on dry prairie plains.  They stood out like freshly broken welts surrounded by lichen decay buried under low-lying sarsens mossy creepers encompassing the split trunks of lightening formed saplings.  In the distance she could detect smoky ravaging flames for miles beyond illuminated vistas.

The stratosphere was opulent with midwinter bouquet and taciturn looks.  So cold a coarse skinned frog sprinted for miles seeking refuge in lined bark as leaves dangled wilting out of sync with the its sulk.

Daylight dissolved as nocturne appeared sky midnight blue black sprinkled with constellations of stars.  We watched the horizon meld into inky blackness as dense clouds moved in blanking out welcome cerulean moonlight.

Leafy seadragons cling to drifting seaweed. Emperor Tamarin lie ensconced in bough brushwood.  White-faced Saki Monkey has imbibed too well and now begs pause. Tapirs Forage using prehensile snouts. Proboscis Monkeys give Jimmy Durante a run for his money.  Narwhal do battle under the ocean holding majestic swordfights for our viewing pleasure.

Let us take our flint tools and populate empty kingdoms.

Our bodies became ornaments of praise sounding the universe.  Let us open the door and together step into the unexplored.

Bodhi Tree Buddha
Bodhi Tree Buddha

Midnight drifted among cooled soporific shades whilst light languorously filtered through tree tops that met high snow-capped mountains.  Dusk blanketed the sleepy township as she cut lengths of vine, made pliable from being pulled hand to hand threading liana sharply through forked branches.  Give it a hot scrub. Wring it through grasses, cattails, green meadows bathed in the humidity of a plummeting sun. Gargantuan knobby helixes braided roots as thick as a man’s body birthed Banyan and Bodhi fire walking as stones exploded beneath their bare feet.

A splash was heard inside the water, into the corpse of Jupiter pushing up Easter Island. The earth was droning, weighty and syrupy after the slenderest shower. One could taste the whirring churrup of insects singed by the blazing eclipse.

The Old Nags Ball

Merlin no longer needs a Crystal Ball or a magic wand, only a hypodermic needle.

Espiritu en Fuego/A Fiery Spirit

The Old Nags Ball

Pygmalion and Galatea Auguste Rodin  (French, Paris 1840–1917 Meudon) Pygmalion and Galatea
Auguste Rodin
(French, Paris 1840–1917 Meudon)

While all the Painted Ponies dance across the floor sipping champagne unable to send laughter through Collagen injected lips at small talk chatter jokes. Solid firm perfectly rounded breasts standing at attention and ready to fire B52 Bombs at slow motion cocktail waiters.  Goddess above and rotted corpse below.  Grandma and grand-daughter are now at competing odds.

O! Swing your partner round and round.

The face is tight. The chin is firm. But Oh Lawd Have Mercy the turkey neck swings. Her boobs jut out like missile beams. The Old Nag’s body betrays her incisions. Carefully wrought needlework now all a tangle. Who but Satan would want to wrangle?  The Old Nag’s Body has come undone!

Restylane, Botox, Liquid Face-lift #3 ~ Kabuki masque woman no expression has she!  Doused with fillers until surgery!

Spin that syringe round and…

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