Author: dancingpalmtrees

An African/Native American Queen, Wordsmith, Photographer, Free Spirit and Teacher.

The Evil Jester Coalition

On By dancingpalmtreesIn Fusion Poetry, Glitch, Hodgepodge Poetry, Poems, Poetry, Prose and Poetry, Uncategorized

 

 

The Evil Jester Coalition

 

Her Life consists of ramblings from One Psychosis to another

The Layout of the Caves leaves sounds greatly exaggerated

In the Caves I saw She who was without nose with bubs for fingers shoveling earth with scooped perdition.  Her looked into my questioning eyes spoke forth, “The Krocodyll ate my fingers and cut off me nose.  As she snorted, sniffed and shot up another dose. 

Frozen Dead stare out blankly from the casements as thick fog obscures, increasing the rift between reality and fantasy.  Embryos seemed to sprout from thin spaces of adjoining floor planks.

Figures on the Paddle-wheel encouraged us to sing and dance to pass the time.  Sparks flew out from street cars and trams attempting to ignite my swollen spirit.

The Grave is just a Bridge from Light to Light

We shall meet Midlands betwixt and beyond.  Her was an unknowing prisoner in that house for a long time. Returning to the home time and again.  It was a part of her distant past and daily present. The House was a gifted sanctuary to her brittle psyche. Within the burning hot coal city I was surrounded by icy cold rains, sleet and blizzards.




Oh for the Land of Fresh Cleaning Running Waters. Sunny Skies and Balmy Temperatures.  Where? Oh Where is My Paradise?  Alas Only in My Minds Eye.

Lost for Life ~~ Patterns for Mazes of No Escape |  Cyclic Wanderers

 

Murder on the Cusp of Entertainment

In his unspoken anger his white knuckles against her pure Ebony skin.  The Kill shot.  All part of their strange pale-skin Tribal customs. To choke the life out of wherever they landed. Leaving behind plundered Vesuvius. Merely witness to tragedy.  I closed my eyes and kept him moving. Further and further away. Hard Stop. Heart Stop.

 Enter into the House of Green Paper

MALICE IN WONDERLAND WITH HER HUSBAND KRAMPUS

 

To turn the earth into lands of shades.  Shadows walking to and fro yet never speaking to each other.  Sprinkles of birds. Anger within the codes.  These are the things that remain after Apostrophes.  Derailed trains careening into the wilderness powered by their own unique madness. Aztec lines leading to the Hinterlands.  Born wrong.

rELEASED fROM tHE uNDEWORLD………….

For I am Just a Glitch in the System. 

 

 

Living Blooming Flowers in dead tree trunk
From death comes Life
Gamepiece with a Dead Heron (“Falconer’s Bag”) Jan Weenix
Island of the Damned by Bocklin

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Necropolis | City of Joy

On By dancingpalmtreesIn Uncategorized1 Comment

 

 

Necropolis

Turbulence in Life ~~ Harmony and Peace in the Graveyard

Stricken by Death Freed from Pain

 

In life few paid court or called me but now in this City of the Dead I received numerous visitors. I have now made my mark in the Afterlife.

 

I Drifted into Life and Now I Drift Out. Without Ceremony or Pomp.

 

Speech: “To be, or not to be, that is the question”

BY WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE

(from Hamlet, spoken by Hamlet)

To be, or not to be, that is the question:

Whether ’tis nobler in the mind to suffer

The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,

Or to take arms against a sea of troubles

And by opposing end them. To die—to sleep,

No more; and by a sleep to say we end

The heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks

That flesh is heir to: ’tis a consummation

Devoutly to be wish’d. To die, to sleep;

To sleep, perchance to dream—ay, there’s the rub:

For in that sleep of death what dreams may come,

When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,

Must give us pause—there’s the respect

That makes calamity of so long life.

For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,

Th’oppressor’s wrong, the proud man’s contumely,

The pangs of dispriz’d love, the law’s delay,

The insolence of office, and the spurns

That patient merit of th’unworthy takes,

When he himself might his quietus make

With a bare bodkin? Who would fardels bear,

To grunt and sweat under a weary life,

But that the dread of something after death,

The undiscovere’d country, from whose bourn

No traveller returns, puzzles the will,

And makes us rather bear those ills we have

Than fly to others that we know not of?

Thus conscience does make cowards of us all,

And thus the native hue of resolution

Is sicklied o’er with the pale cast of thought,

And enterprises of great pitch and moment

With this regard their currents turn awry

And lose the name of action.

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Nomadic Dreams and Discourses

On By dancingpalmtreesIn Fusion Poetry, Giles and Niles Take On The Town, Hodgepodge Poetry, Monocle, Nomadic Dreams and Discourses, Poems, Poetic Transposition, Poetry, Prose and Poetry, Splinter Stories, Uncategorized

 

 

Giles and Niles Take On The Town

 

What is it to Occupy a Body that is not Your Own?

 

Oily rags on Fire

 

In My past life I must have been a suppressed Pyromaniac for whenever I smell smoke or see sparks and flames I get horny. My only desire is to merge with the intense inferno of whatever nearby flesh.

 

Fragments of explosives were distributed like Holy Relics

Monocle smeared with rancid body fat

The smell of putrid body odor pushed Convulsions up and out of my Center quickly bringing me to the surface of blessed relief.  Flotsam and Jetsam of  Orbiting lives coming together then separating

During his ramblings around the canvass stopping as he spied me. His eyes dissecting and classifying me as a new species of insect or bird

 

No nod of the head but his eyes moved up and down my person as though my body was an ancient scroll or flag being unfurled. We riff and reverberate off each others bones.  Licks and Riffs all night long.  Conviviality shared.  Towels and Cocktails all around.

 

No Galumphing around.  He had pride in his stride.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

My Mixed Media Photo Collage Masterpiece

On By dancingpalmtreesIn Art, Artist, Broadway Junction en Lacquer, Glitter Glutch, Uncategorized7 Comments

Purchased an Easel Stand for my Artwork submission to the Union Art Show.

This is how I will display my Artwork. The name of this piece is Broadway Junction en Lacquer.

 

 

I’m in the process of working on another Mixed Media Photo Collage piece which I’ve named Glitter Glutch and Yes Glutch is a word.

Sneak Preview of Glitter Glutch

Not so much the Drip method with this one but rather a Swirl and Twirl Method

This artwork is still a work in progress.  Currently Unfinished

 

 

Reciprocating Dangling Appendages

On By dancingpalmtreesIn MUM C, Reciprocating Dangling Appendages, Uncategorized, When a Male Drops his Drawers, When His Pants Are Down

 

 

When a Male Drops his Drawers

 

Ah Ha! Yes SiStar When Males pants are down because it takes more than an appendage to be a real Man, Dangling Wriggling Worthless Creepy Cylinders of every length and width Cycling from womb to womb seeking caves to deposit seedling Treasures. 

Drifting Stingray pollinators

Dangling Participles in need of a phrase. Sea Snakes shredding skins daily, dipping into Lady ponds Shooting torpedoes into bulls-eye targets.  Snorkeling sea serpents never coming up for air.  Languorous Leaping Lampreys Dipping and Diving into uncharted waters

 

Searching for wanting empty chambers reciprocating Opening internal-combustion engines, firing pistons, pumping, compressing brain cells for greed.  Igniting formerly rusting cob webbed abandoned caves into Turreted Gabled Victorian mansions

 

When Males pants are down wriggles and writhes moans and groans jump about like a tasty worm on the end of a sharp hook.

 

Ready to hook and reel in that unsuspecting woman in with charm, grace and a few slick lines. She letting her guard down chomps on the poisonous bait only to be hooked by the Snake!!

 

 

https://amoafowaa.com/2018/01/19/%E2%80%8Bwhen-his-pants-are-down/

 

 

 

Fountains at Rockefeller Center in NYC
Mermaid Riding a Fish