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.
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.
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.
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
Proverbs 13:22English 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.
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.
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
HAPPY FATHER’S DAY IN HEAVEN DADDY. LOVE, DeBorah and Stephen.
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
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.
Normal pets like cats and dogs are no longer in vogue. At least not this neighborhood! These folks got snakes! And they got the nerve and audacity to take Mr. Boa Constrictor for a walk. Writhing, wriggling Snake jewelry. Snakes in the Hood! Will theses hip-hop snake charmers begin to spit Jabberwocky verses Odes to their Slithery Toves! Wending Awinding across tattooed pierced bodies making their way across Fulton, down Rockaway oblivious towards wide berthed glances clearing pathways via booming beats. Ghetto Medusa come dance with me. Enchant me further with your convoluted, intertwining, sinuous living locs!
Release your coiled, corkscrewed, spiral looping familiars into Gotham’s subterranean lurching travel chambers where they can make short work of Mutant rodents who run helter skelter along the tracks and in garbage strewn streets. Nay! Never part with Vipernian allies? Then shall my Feline Avenger wreck havoc upon your Reptilian shores.
Cat People 1942
Methinks some of me neighbors be escapees from Slytherin House at Hogwarts! Salazar Slytherin has established the Ghetto Chapter! Whats a poor Muggle like me to do!! I do believe that I may have to activate my Cat Woman Superpowers to Vanquish these scaly forked tongue beings!! Wonder Twin Powers Activate!! Form of Serpentyne quenching fire!! The House of Slytherin sits in ashes upon its funeral pyre.
Espiritu en Fuego/A Fiery Spirit 