Abstract Decompression 


Abstract Decompression 

She was an untidy yet well mannered mannequins dream of a rambling bustling bristling garden of thorns.

A compatriot of Busker Boodle and his Traveling Henchmen. 

Their house no stranger to death was at times covered in covert convert blood. 

Theda the Bohemian Brahmin interjected regularly. 
The span betwixt life and death is millimeter slim.

Scattered explosions rocketed sanguine limbs and rotting corpses skyward. Mere Treacle. 

Cabana Havana Heart 

Comments Apology and Thanks


 

 

I want to Thank All My Readers in Advance for their Comments.  The comments for this blog Do Not come to my email so it may take weeks for me to read and acknowledge them.  I programmed the Comments to stay in the Que because my life is so hectic and busy with the job there is no way that I can respond to anything in a timely manner. Working in a museum the Holidays are HellaDays.

The museum gets thousands of visitors. It is a blackout period for the staff so almost No days off.  Yes Christmas time might be celebration for some but as for me I’m glad it’s all over. I’m not a Christmas person. I don’t celebrate and people tend to be extremely nasty and rude during that time.  It’s like working in a Pressure Cooker.  Headaches, Stomach aches, pain = Christmas.  The last time I went to the doctor my blood pressure had rocketed skyward.  Why?  End year Holidays.

Ask anyone who works in a Customer Service position. Actually I’m sure the people in retail, department stores, transit and other fields experience that same Christmas dread. Hopefully this will be my last Holiday season and next season I will be retired. Then I can truly ignore Christmas completely and my life won’t be so screwed up. For me Christmas is like being thrown into a fiery pit with no escape.

The only thing end of year holidays due for me is to raise my blood pressure from all the stress! December is an entire month of making believe you’re happy when you’re not. Relief comes after Jan. 7th!

This blog and my writing in general is a Love/Hate relationship. How people make time to write books I’ll never understand.  Any book that I publish will most likely be a Photography book. Many times I just want to dump both the blog and the writing. That’s part of the reason I stopped and focused more on my photography.  Writing can be stressful and cathartic all at the same time.  In the future I’ll be taking more time away from this blog.  Sometimes you just need to walk away from things when they become too difficult.

Honestly I get more personal pleasure from photography than writing.  No matter how tired and exhausted work leaves me photography always rejuvenates me whereas writing requires a lot of planning and thought.  With a job like mine my brain is mush by the end of the workweek and I’m so tired and physically exhausted all I want to do is sleep.  Basically I just want to veg out and watch YouTube or Netflix. In fact I spend most weekends in bed especially now with this brutal freezing winter cold.

Eventually I do read all the comments.  However I do want you to know that I appreciate your feedback.  Sorry for the Universal response. I’d like to give each and every comment a personal response but at this time it is impossible.  Thanks for understanding.

Dust


 

 

Dust

Particles like snowflakes fall upon people, animals, flowers, trees, plants, homes, houses, trains and cars

Skin particles from living beings. Cremains from those who have gone on. Skin cells. Ashes to Ashes. Dust to Dust.

Ashes of the Disintered 

Gatherings of Flesh, Feathers and Fur.

I am aware of my skin because they tell me so. But one day skin tones won’t make as we proceed from flesh to dusky ashes for then we will all be equal.

In the greater scheme of the Universe we are nothing and return to nothing but memories.  Time passes and soon we are done. Graveyard markers, memorials, tombstones and gravestones.  The Bonfire of eons and eternity eat away at our existence.

Rheema began to form and energy expression. Commencing the mixing of bloods, bone and tissues.

 

In the Dust of this Planet
In the Dust of this Planet

 

 

 

 

 

 

Fenty Red Lip Stunna 


Ladies, Please weigh in on my Look! How am I doing for a Woman about to turn 59 next month? What are your thoughts?

dancingpalmtrees's avatarRoaming Urban Gypsy

Well Ladies, Here’s my debut of the Fenty Red Lip Stunna!  Red Fenty Lips!

As most of you already know this is part of Fenty Beauty by popular singer Rihanna. 

It is liquid. Super Liquidity so I had to use the applicator sparingly.

To quote an old time commercial, “A little dab will do ya.”  Otherwise your teeth will be red also. Not a good look unless you are a Vampire!  LOL!!

I think that looks good on me. Overall I look pretty good for a woman about to turn 59 next month February!

I will definitely purchase more Fenty Beauty products. Mostly lipsticks, mascara and perhaps eye shadow.  I don’t really wear face makeup as I have good skin and sometimes my skin reacts to face makeups.

Rihanna’s Fenty Beauty Line is Expensive. But I’m worth it.  This is part of my Increase in pampering and Self care for…

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The Chatty Grim Reaper: Boneyard Blessings


 

 

The Chatty Grim Reaper: Boneyard Blessings

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Theater in Odd Places Consisting of Ossified Cryto Currencies.

We are nothing but Dinosaur Dust hurtling through space with Vulgarisms protruding through our flesh. When we kissed I bit your upper lip causing noxious steamy yellow fluid to vomit through the pierced flesh.  Running my hands over your gossamer cadaver skin your bones like speed bumps rising up from frail crepe paper skin.

Frothing and foaming wounds litter the barren wasteland of your corporeal form. Akin to tiny screaming faces each with multiple eyes are trying yet failing to focus.

Small mutants have big effects.  There is a gentle rustling of leaves in your dry straw snap crackling spiked hairdo.  What beautiful environs once dwelt there!  Many deviant burials await ghostly futures.

Caverns echo distinct indecisive bleats converging remnants.  Trees glistened with slow leaking spicy sweet sap. Then I espied a room. A hidden room within a room. Behind dusty drapes, rickety table, equally dust covered furniture and moldering books. Every so often some turgid eruptions of heat issued forth from age old radiators threatening to baptize the yellowing linoleum floor.

Lithesome yet loathsome creatures sporting bulbous backsides and Smothering massive mammeries recently escaped from local slaughterhouses. Tapestry’s warmth yielded a hothouse pouring sweat glands raining down salty perspiration betwixt those pendulous udders.

Come Now Angel of Death! I’m Ready for My Selfie!!