Are Self-Exploding Beings inwardly Imploding?


 

Are the self-exploding inwardly imploding?

Not knowing that the seeds of their self-destruction reside quietly inwardly already taking root. Ready to root out fabricated dogmas.
Boston Bomb crushed avian souls flying towards Heaven. Chaos rules the lands. Demonic Fairytale stories being lit up global TV screens.
Carnage Couture is all the rage!!

Socialites debate levels of thinness while screaming crying babies suckle on long dried up teats.

Life continues on in glass castles unfazed by human suffering. Walking Stepford skinny chic walking decorations immobilized shields of Oil dollars. One piece of glittering jewelry could feed and house one thousand lost humanities. Let us trip the light fantasies weaving around hunger, blight and destruction all the while knowing it will never touch our gleaming manors. Golden parachutes always on hand.

Mankind marches on towards dinosaur extinction by our own hands. WinTourist DashKardian superficial fantasies supplicate the masses fill the empty plates providing empty calories while Rome burns. Politics, religion unreasonable fears of contamination. Moon-Skitters thrive on cell division.

Say Their Names!! Never allow their memories to fade!!

Our decision whether, how, & when to escape the matrix.

Are the Self-Exploding inwardly Imploding? Truth, Compassion, Understanding and Victory shall win out over evil, wickedness and animosity!!  For the sacred has now become filled with the filth of the profane. An Outhouse disguised under the mantle of being a Holy Temple.

http://www.theguardian.com/artanddesign/2014/nov/23/imran-qureshi-ikon-gallery-birmingham-review-hauntingly-beautiful

http://www.artspace.com/imran_qureshi

 

Imran Qureshi
Imran Qureshi
Imran Qureshi
Imran Qureshi
Imran Qureshi
Imran Qureshi
Imran Qureshi
Imran Qureshi
Imran Qureshi
Imran Qureshi
Imran Qureshi
Imran Qureshi
Imran Qureshi
Imran Qureshi
Imran Qureshi
Imran Qureshi

All Photos are the artwork of Imran Qureshi

Maelstrom Devolution ~ Realm of the Abortinates


Maelstrom Devolution – Realm of the Abortinates

The sun was soft and the boat rocked gently. It wasn’t so bad running out of fuel, until, the appearance of two fins circling our now powerless boat. Sharks. But sharks unlike ones I’d ever seen before in books, films, or aquariums. These looked like amalgamous leftovers from some prehistoric age. Fins coupled with scales and hideous appendages jutting out from every angle and portal of their bodies. Sea creatures sent from Hades to devour us. Every so often one would rear its ugly head and bear its ferocious teeth. Snap.. Snap… The jaws of death.

Fortunately or at least we thought so at the time, appeared the mast of another sailing vessel approaching us. We shouted and waved cloths to get their attention. It got closer and closer. One of their crew fired into the water scaring away the hungry sea monsters. At this point we were so frightened that we quickly responded to their offer of rescue and boarded their vessel without further hesitation.

One of the hideous primitives played out a line behind him quickly and efficiently securing our now forlorn vessel to theirs.

My fiancé and I were hungrily welcome aboard the rather ragtag vessel by a scurvy crew of men shouting orders at each other in a foreign tongue that we could not comprehend.

Still another of the monstrosities that I hesitate to call a crew member but must for lack of a better word collected what few personalities we had brought with us on what was supposed to be a romantic sail. There went our small ham radio, the stereopticon, and my black bag containing medical instruments that I used in my studies of phrenology, a small notebook containing my writings. Our ship of salvation quickly turned into a “Flying Dutchman”.

During our sojourn upon the island I was to use this notebook to record the lives and cultures of the barbarous captors. Male and female were employed upon this accursed ship but save for the pendulous breasts of the females the mutants were virtually indistinguishable one from another.

We tried to communicate with them. Trying to explain that we were Her Majesty’s citizens, subjects of the Empire but no sooner than we had begun our implorments than we were thrown into the filthy hold. An area teeming with vermin. Several other curious animals in not so sturdy cages were housed with us in this den of darkness. Every so often what we were to later find to be an equally retched enslaved servant came down to feed us and give us fresh water for drinking and bathing. Excretion and elimination was in another bucket emptied twice daily. They kept us clean and fed enough for survival but imprisoned without the benefit of sunlight or fresh air save once a week to be inspected by the hedonistic captain. Once he was satisfied that we would survive the voyage we were again rudely returned to our cruel holding place. Then after a time we were allow daily excursions onto the  deck to promenade before the crew members as we came to be considered oddities, curiosities worthy of entertainment. We who were free servants in the royal court now stood enslaved by malformed opiate dwellers.

While upon one of our daily constitutionals we gained the intelligence of what became of any manimal who died onboard. The flesh of any creature or crew member who died was not wasted but that animal was boiled, skinned and deboned becoming part of a stew partaken by all the others. Often the flesh was not cooked at all and many times we saw one disfigured boar like crew member disgorge the contents of his meal from his stomach. The regurgitation was then collected by a fellow crew member to be reused for another type of stew the contents of which looked something like the vomit regurgitations of birds and cows. Pestilence should have taken hold and reigned upon necrotic menagerie however the bodies of these mutants of science and nature proved very efficient in combating disease. Any deaths usually resulted from accidents or murders committed by unhinged temperaments.

The Beloved and I ate only the porridge, roots from the ground and limited vegetation served us daily. We abstained from the flesh.

During one of our brief stays on deck my love and I could see a small island off in the distance. Not having an expert knowledge of geography, mapping or topography we were at a total loss to determine our destination but as time passed we slowly became accustomed and acclimated to the grunts, shrieks, groans and hurls of the crews unintelligible language to hear one word repeatedly. Moreau. Yes we were headed to the former island and laboratory of the infamous Dr. Moreau……………..

Suddenly we realized that we had been captured by a race of pseudo humans. Abortions birthed before the full levels of development could be completed. The Abortinates left behind when Dr. Moreau was killed. These creatures managed to not only survive but to thrive and procreate. Having a semblance of a human mind their technology advanced to the point of allowing them to build boats and seize luckless travelers who happened into their pathway.

Over a period of time my beloved and I began to acclimate ourselves to the island and gradually deciphered the fractured tongue of these savages who held us captive. We the purveyors of culture entombed into a society of devils and demons.

Desecration of the House of Order

Unlike the refined lovemaking of my Beloved One and I, yes they did allow us conjugal time and space, these creatures coupled like the savage beasts they were the males entering the females from behind. One could hear their frantic animal sounds of lust, which to me were like the ones of defecation piercing the night air on an almost hourly basis. These deformities of nature had a predilection for giving over to the baser instincts anytime, anywhere stopping the task at hand to copulate demonically.

As we learned to speak their language we gained their confidence and one day we were whisked away to a city translated from their tongue called Maelstrom. It resembled a series of root systems into which the souls of men were sucked up and their bodies transported via journeys to destinations at various points of the underground. Each root was a bustling Metropolis unto itself. These misconceptions of the unnatural actually possessed the ability to construct a thriving city meeting the needs of the greater populace.

Revelation

It was amazing to the Beloved and I how this race of corrupted beings could achieve such levels of higher technology and skill possessing such low level deviant minds and rotted souls.

Then the answer came when one night shortly after we had been taken into their confidence we were allowed to view one of the many satanic evil ritual worship services located in what was once Dr. Moreau’s living quarters. What was once the house of order had become a foul smelling shanty subject to the febrile predilections of a race of deviants.

One night as we observed one of their phantasmagorical rituals we saw one of the secrets of their atypical advancements. During their satanic services which were held at the end of every week at approximately the midnight hour we saw them imbibe a potion an elixir of sorts made from a recipe left behind at Dr. Moreau’s abandoned laboratory located on the surface of the island.

As they made their way over to what once was or rather formerly the home and bedchambers of the Creator-god Moreau. At the start of the service the Holy Book was raised and presented to Anton the head demon that not only kissed the book but devoured a portion of it. He was joined by a profane Votary who read incantations from their vile scriptures dedicated to the black arts. Together they invoked the spirits of the underworld. “Spirits of the Underworld. All that is unholy and unworthy come forth!” As they gave utterance to the sacred passages, Anton, leader of the services smote the book and Kali the many armed one came forth.

Kali known as the “black one” consort of Shiva, wore a thin garment adorned with considerable jewelry: gold earrings, a three nose rings and three necklaces for the unholy Trinity. Her headdress had tassels that framed her forehead. She tore one of the malformed offspring from one of the beasts, decapitating it with her fangs all whilst ripping the still beating heart from its tiny breast to be partially devoured the rest placed upon the altar as a sacrifice.

Inflamed and intoxicated by perversity the beasts renewed their orgy with a renewed fervor and vigor. Pounding drums beat out a rhythm to match the melee. Without warning a full moon appeared in heretofore almost completely blackened night sky and a Goddess arose from the night mist like unto the Beautiful one.

“My name is Light and it is spelled with symbols from the Moon, Stars and sun.” As the Goddess raised her arms and as her raiment fell away florescent symbols ignited by the armada of light emanating from the night sky were revealed upon her muscular arms, upper shoulders, upper and lower back. Energy proceeded forth from each transcription radiating to her Janus sister. The Beautiful one came as bright sister to Kali to preside over and sanction the lewd rites.

Prior to the recitation of the Initiate the Beautiful rose up to give this agonized prayer. To my amazement my Beloved arose with her and together their spirits made supplication.

As the two sisters ululated their lip spoken voices died away and the symbols began to chant the words; sacred, secular, profane.

 



 

Return to the Realm of Maelstrom Deviation Cycles of Time

On dark inky blue moonless nights of wicked worship they would gather dried herbs they cultivated from the island’s rough soil place them into a type of incense burner and inhale the fumes, transporting worshippers into a trance. Once in the trance they would commence to dance. First in a line then in a circle arms linked together chanting to their unholy god. Finally the ritual would end in the drinking of the potion and they would retire back to their rude dwellings that they called homes.

At first they attempted to evangelize the Beloved One and I into their morbid séances but we declined and for whatever reason perhaps because they sensed our innate superiority allowed us to watch and pretty much left us to our own devices in the evening hours.

Sometimes late in the night after the Beloved and I had retired to our chambers we could hear rough guttural Gregorian Chants in the distance.

The Road to Hell

But this place which we referred to as The Island was not just the former dwelling place of an evil man who attempted to usurp God and nearly succeed in destroying the authentic world but it was a step into another dimension. A place that did not exist on any map made by man. Once again another realization came upon the Beloved and I. We had entered into one of the realms of the underworld. A Hades, a Hell, a living personal nightmare populated by the demons that lurked within our very minds and souls. Suddenly a veil was lifted and we found ourselves within the dark caverns of the sea. The sisters of Ishtar goddess of death and destruction, good and evil, love, war and lust had delivered us to her lower sister via the sea. Oceans of dead souls washed over us. Those dark, serpent-like many limbed sharks were just dark angels who identified potential souls for the kingdoms of darkness.

These whom we had lived with and come to know were really the spawn of the goddesses Ishtar and Lilith. Those creatures, once mortal men had loved the twin succubae had suddenly and for no reason offended them and were cruelly ejaculated from their sexual paradise; rejected by them constrained to live in an immortal plane feasting on captured souls for nourishment.

50 Ways to Leave Your Lover and Enjoy the ID Channel


Dumb Shit that Men Over 50 have said to me on dates or Why I Stop Dating Men and Started Dating the ID Channel.

50 Ways to Leave Your Lover

http://www.aarp.org/home-family/dating/info-03-2013/6-reasons-to-date-women-your-own-age.2.html

I want a woman who’s young and firm.

How you want a young woman who’s fit and trim when you resemble the Pillsbury Doughboy? And even if you have kept up your body with exercise, what happened to that Big 70s Afro you had back in the day? Hmmm…. I believe a little thing called balding has caught up with you. Looks like a job for Minoxidal. Oh yes can you do something about the nose and ear hair while you’re at it? Seems like the hair on your head has migrated to your olfactory and auditory systems. By the way did you notice you face has gotten a little craggy around the edges. I dare say most 20 & 30 somethings would find those things repulsive.

As for these Super-Size females in their 20s who are between 5 feet 1 and 5 ft 5 inches who weigh 200+ lbs at age 25 I daresay I’m more fit than they. Plus size is only cute until you hit 40 and find yourself weighed down by diabetes and on a respirator. Mickey D’s is a way of life for many 20 somethings who have never seen the inside of a kitchen except to step to the refrigerator and over to the micro-wave.

More Kids

Moron. You could barely afford the 3 or 4 crumb snatchers and rug rats you had during the 80s, why in the hell would you want more kids? You can’t even go up a flight of steps without breathing hard much less try to chase a toddler through the house. Heck if you really want to hear the pitter-patter of little feet I’m sure that those kids you had during the 1970s and 1980s will oblige you with grandchildren. At least you can give those little monsters back when you get tired of them.

Strutting down the street with a woman young enough to be your daughter or grand-daughter might seem good for a while until the young bimbo gets tired of your Geritol using, Viagra needy ass and moves onto men her own age who can actually satisfy her and will live longer.  In the evening before what you think will be a wild night of passionate love-making, seeing you take out your dentures to soak them in Polident will put the kibosh on any romantic endeavors.

And By the Way bubble head heifer will probably use Texting, Twitter or Facebook to break up with you. However as my beloved parents used to say, “There’s No Fool like an Old Fool.”

Conversations with the young hussy will only result in long drawn out explanations.  If your Reality Show Girlfriend does not remember or has not actually experienced the following, you’re in trouble.

Transistor Radios — portable and cool

Earth Shoes

S&H Green Stamps — Too much licking and sticking

Drive-In Movies — Dr. Zhivago

Ed Sullivan — I only really recall the little mouse Topo Gigo

Mitch Miller — Everyone in my neighborhood watched just to see Leslie Uggams.

Lawrence Welk – hated him, but my parents loved him so I had to watch

Records: 78s, 33 1/3rds, 45s

RCA Magnavox TV with the tubes

Ralph Kiner and Lindsey Nelson

Rheingold Beer

Schaffer Beer

Wattstax

The Automat

Stick with me Mature Man we can Walk Down Memory Lane together with our Bifocals and I’ll laugh at your corny Laugh-In jokes.

 

 

Package Delivery


Funny Moment when a guy’s rap about his package nearly does him in

Getting off the J train at Broadway Junction and this young guys looking at a girl on the train telling her, “It’s this long” — well Mr. Super Stud walks right into the steel column along the platform and nearly knocks himself out. BAM!! You know that shit hurt!

I did chuckle a bit but I had to get me and my groceries back home in one piece!! He did try to play it off though. I think those humongous Beats by Dr. Dre headphones kept him from further injury. Perhaps he is practicing to be a future Anthony Weiner but those of us in New York know what happened to him and even though he’s running for Mayor Mr. Weiner will never live down exposing his little wiener via Twitter.

Perhaps Mr. Big Stuff should concentrate on getting something into his big head instead of focusing on impressing a girl with the little head. Stud Muffin wins this week’s Darwin Award.

Does Size matter?
Does Size matter?

 

Old Skool with a Classic 8-Track Flashback. Mr. Big Stuff ~ http://youtu.be/9f4CyQto-0E

 

Tiger, Tiger Burning Bright — Ms. Bachuta’s Revenge


Tiger, Tiger burning Bright – Ms. Bachuta’s Revenge

Warning this post is not politically correct and may be offensive to some. However if you were a fan of Richard Pryor, George Carlin, Moms Mabley or LaWanda Page (Aunt Esther) read on for another WTF  New York news story.

Sumatra Tiger
Sumatra Tiger

Yo Joe! Joe! Did you order take out? No then who’s this muthafucker in our cage? Where’s the babies, Ivette & Yvonne. RaeKwon get the hell away from there. What I tell you about messing around in that part of the den. This white muthfucka damn near fell on your head.

Shit! Who gives a damn! Come on y’all. Dinner is served. We gonna have white meat tonight. Might be a sight better than the regular Bronx Zoo crap we get every day! Hey he broke his fuckin’ leg in the fall! Easy pickin’s. Hold still ya dumb bastard! Gotta get that fool before the dumb ass Zoo Keepers rescue him!

CHOMP!!

I still can’t get over the fact that this idiot jumped off the damn monorail and into the Tiger’s den to commit suicide. There are easier, quicker and less painful ways to do away with yourself. Why not just swallow some sleeping pills, Xanax and top it off with a few cocktails. At least you’d just go to sleep and wake up somewhere else. No Jackass had to become one with the tiger. I guess the tiger Ms. Bachuta taught him a thing or to. Morale of the story: Don’t Fuck with Tigers from the Bronx or anywhere else!

The Mills Brothers– Hold That Tiger (Tiger Rag)

http://youtu.be/P0GKbpSN3nA

Give this dumbass a Darwin Award! Sorry but most Black people don’t even swim much less get near dangerous wild animals. So far I only know of one brother who had a Wild Kingdom obsession. This Negro had a tiger (again!) and an alligator in his Harlem apartment. The policeman who came upon these creatures unexpectedly probably almost shit himself. Well maybe he did shit himself. I know I would have.

Black people despite being separated from Africa over 400 years have collective memories about wild animals. That’s why up until recently there were next to no Black swimmers in the Olympic competition and plenty in Track & Field. Why are Black folks so good at running? Because genetic memory throws us into “Haul Ass” mode, recalling running from tigers, lions, and various other predators with sharp teeth! To this day I betcha very few Africans jump in the old swimming hole next to the village. Why? Muthafuckin hippos & alligators! I don’t care if they are herbivores.  Them muthafuckers got teeth and they bite. Get on their surf & turf and you will be lunch or dinner. Also keep in mind every last one of those nature show hosts have been white. Go ahead keep fuckin’ with those animals. Look what happened to Steve Irwin. Leave the fuckin’ crocodiles, alligators and tigers alone!

The Five Racketeers “Hold That Tiger”

http://youtu.be/bwfHD8MDP8o

I could go into why white people also go investigate weird noises and/or sounds in horror movies but as the expression goes curiosity the cat or in this case the Caucasian. That saying is wrong because cats got nine lives and are very good at sensing danger.  Well that’s for another post.

Donations and Freewill offerings can be made directly to my PayPal account deborah.palmer280@gmail.com

Bengal Tiger
Bengal Tiger