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

France


This is a very long two part post.

French National Anthem – “La Marseillaise” (FR/EN)

My blogging buddy K.B. who lives in Paris is safe, alive and well. He is grateful to all Americans for their prayers, encouragement and support.

I totally disagree with the hate towards France being spewed on Facebook!! Yes we all know that France was a Colonizer back in the 18th and 19th Centuries but the people alive today, the people maimed and killed in those horrible attacks have nothing to do with with what happened centuries ago. Yes we do need to learn and heed the lessons of the past. Colonialism and Slavery must continue to be taught in schools so we recognize wickedness and choose another path. On that note yesterday I left a group that I thought was about the positive because of the evil statements made against France. People who return hate for hate are little better than the oppressors.

Winston Churchill – We Shall Never Surrender (Full Speech)

Governments often make problems that make others suffer. My parents, grandparents and great grandparents went through racism and Jim Crow but they did not hate this nation, their country. As a Black woman I experience bias, racism and bigotry often but that does not give me the right to lump all white people in the same pot as an excuse to hate and spew venom. As a Christian I represent Jesus Christ so I can never do this. My spirit and soul do not allow me.

Love Train [Original 12″ Version] – The O’Jays (1972)

Many of those murdered in France and on the Russian airplane blast were innocent children. Hatred solves nothing. We cannot go back and change the past. Also keep in mind on 9/11 many French, European and other nations supported New Yorkers and Americans. Being Pro-Black does not give me the right to be anti-white or anti-European. Why? Because the Love of God and His compassion is in my heart. Most people of color have experienced bias and bigotry in some form but I refuse to deny aid, support or prayer to those in need. I pray for everyone. I’m still praying for the innocent Russian people killed in that airplane explosion. Hate is divisive. Please do not use this tragedy as an excuse to incite or fan the flames of hatred. I wholeheartedly and unashamedly support and stand with the people of France and victims of terrorism worldwide! Show Love to all.

‪#‎France‬‪ #‎Paris ‬‪#‎OneLove‬   #America

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I Rise Above hatred, bias, bigotry & racism.

I know what it is to be treated with the wide brush of stereotypes.
Working with the general public can be a challenge and if you’re a Black Woman wearing a uniform, a uniform that designates a form of authority more challenges come your way.

My Great, Great Grandfather William Henry Halstead left his life as a Free farmer and joined the Union Army for the benefit of his enslaved sisters and brothers and for his descendants unseen and yet unknown. But maybe he did know that Stephen and I would reap the benefits of his sacrifice. My Dad Edward G. Palmer left City College and joined the Air Force to fight for an America that did not even consider him a man but duty and honor came first. Thanks to the sacrifices and Love from my ancestors my generation of Black Americans became the first generation to benefit from the Civil Rights Movement. I’m carried on the shoulders of giants.

My Mother, Grandmothers and Aunts rose above the indignities of Jim Crow.

Sadly some look at me and see only color or gender. I’ve been approached by white males thinking that I’m a drug dealer or available for sex. Obviously I had to set them straight.  They needed to be firmly re-educated.

But I’m more than race, nationality or gender. Like most people on this earth Black, Brown, or white I’m a human being of complexity. That’s why I had to speak out against vile remarks being leveled at the French people. God created people. Humans created race & divisions.

I’ve come to think that the reason God placed me in the museum was to root out my preconceptions, illusions and delusions about people of other faiths.
Over the almost 8 years I’ve worked there the Ladies and Gentlemen I’m closest to are Muslim, Buddhist, Hindu & Jewish. By being around and in close contact with co-workers outside of my faith I’ve learned a lot and mostly not to be judgmental. I’ve even visited their Houses of Worship and learned that these faiths are not so different from Christianity. If I had been born in Iran, Egypt, Bangladesh, India, I would be a practitioner of that faith. We are all people who want the same things in life.

One God. Many Paths.

Earlier this year I spent two weeks in the hospital. The reason I’ll keep private but the person who visited me and took me home is Gay. Again another lesson of acceptance. Every time I’ve prayed for help God sent someone from another race, faith, gender, or sexual orientation to assist me.

I could lower myself to the level of bigots, haters, slanderers & spew a fountain of venom and vindictiveness but I choose not to. I choose if not to Love everyone but to at least to respect all people regardless of race, religion, or sexual orientation. When I make mistakes or say the wrong thing I go back and apologize. Nobody is perfect but these errors in judgement provide me the opportunity to examine myself.

I’m sure as I make my way towards March 2018 and retirement God will have even more Life Lessons on my path towards Enlightenment.

Still Rising.

Gaslighting


Ingrid Berman in Gaslight (with Charles Boyer)
Ingrid Berman in Gaslight (with Charles Boyer)

If you’ve ever had this happen to you then you know what it is to live in abject fear & terror. Gaslight – verb (used with object): to cause (a person) to doubt his or her sanity through the use of psychological manipulation.

Gaslight (1944)

http://youtu.be/0ToLfQU2xmg

The source is a George Cukor-directed thriller starring Ingrid Bergman as a woman whose husband tells her she’s imagining things that she claims to see in a musty old murder house, including the gaslights dimming by themselves.

Unless you’ve gone through this experience there is no understanding what it’s like to not know whether you’re crazy or the other person is playing you for a fool. I know how that feels. Cruelty in any form is a weapon that has the potential to destroy peoples lives. I’m just fortunate to have a Guardian Angel. This past weekend I survived an episode with a so-called professional member of the particular online business group I’d like to get into.  

A certain amount of trust is involved within our interactions with other human beings. School, the job, our House of Worships, entrepreneurial relationships all involved being able to trust the persons we hope to glean information from to build our business and who we trust to provide marketing and promotion information.  However some people in these online business groups are merely stalkers seeking to capitalize on the trusting natures and vulnerabilities of others.  Not just sad but depraved indifference to a fellow human beings feelings and emotions.  They are Social Media Vultures and/or Predators seeking unsuspecting prey.  Masters of Psychological Deception.  Tricks without the Treats. Vipers ready to strike without a moments notice.

Like anyone, I’m always looking to better myself. To this end I join groups on social media.  Having carefully researched the product you then join with like-minded individuals in order to gain strategies on how to succeed in your chosen field.  Skill building is important to ensure the success of any business venture.

So its scary stuff when even one person in the business group turns out to be a stalker who then libels and slanders you without cause all the while making you the victim think you’re at fault.  No compassion whatsoever. A total disregard for the victims emotional state.

It’s an especially cruel type of manipulation as the tormentor gains the innocent person’s trust only to betray them through psychological and emotional means. Once they gain your trust they either gradually or perhaps more aggressively twist their words so you feel like you’re losing your mind.  Ever so slightly they threaten you with police action, incarceration, jail, prison, legal actions, and many other types of evil tricks to make you believe that you’re at fault and deserve punishment. Despite their malevolent actions suddenly you become the criminal and then these sadists try you in their kangaroo court while acting as judge, jury and executioner.

A series of lies, rumors, innuendos, slander, falsehoods, cause you to doubt your ability to reason or make sense of a troubling situation.  The constant question of “What Just Happened Here?” goes through your mind until that Guardian Angel, Rescuer, Redeemer helps you gain perspective.

Then the demonic wickedness of these Master Manipulators is exposed and once again Salvation has been regained.  I was Blessed to have someone step in to help me and give me reassurance.  Also I was connected with a girlfriend who also went through domestic violence and sexual abuse scenarios like me who understand.  A calm, kind, gentle, loving voice who embraced me acceptance.  I was not alone. Somebody threw out the lifeline.  I grabbed hold and climbed out of this monstrous pit.

I am not deterred in my efforts to improve my finances.  One monkey don’t stop no show!  I see God’s Angels all around me.  I feel God’s Love. I now know that I am not at fault and I don’t have to be afraid.  Legions of Angels have been detached by God to protect me.  As for that spiteful, mean nasty person there will be both earthly and God’s Judgement now that he has been exposed.  Purgatory for this individual has only just begun.  Sanctuary for him will only be found in accepting the truth, repentance and restitution.

1 Chronicles 16:22 & Psalm 105:15

 New International Version (NIV)

22 “Do not touch my anointed ones;
    do my prophets no harm.”

Broken Places


Island of the Damned - Bocklin

It’s a risk to admit you’re broken and possibly beaten or just plain tired and hurting inside.

Risky to say you hurt both physically and emotionally because then the Pharisees and Sadducees appear with knives, razors and spears ready to slash you because you’re not the image or the person they want you to be.

Crying and tears are considered character flaws.

Once you fall out of the House of Rebecca of Sunnybrook Farm in essence you’re Fucked! Already down on your luck scavengers come to pick at your last bits of self-worth beating you down further than you already are.

Let’s be truthfully, Life is a Roller-coaster Ride.  You slowly inch up higher and higher then drop quickly to precipitous lows. But once you get down in that valley here come the Happy Police demanding for you to get out. Comparing you to others who are 25-30 years younger with circumstances unlike my own.  They want you to live lie. Be a fake or a phony.  Being Sensitive is a crime.  For me there is no refuge or sanctuary just rejection. Justice is sentencing to a lifetime in Social Media Wasteland.  A judgement and sentence I refuse to accept.

Seems these people never remember the times they were down and out.  When someone reached out to them with kindness and compassion instead of criticism and judgement. But for me the prescribed remedy is to rip the scabs off my scars yet still expect healing. I’m a Stigma, a failure because I’m not running through fields of tall grass and flowers singing tunes from the Sound of Music.

Even Jesus had to get away from clinging needy people with their hands out always wanting his miracles but not his teaching.  Jesus went up to a mountain or to a desert place all the while knowing his disciples, his friends would desert and betray him. Yup they threw the King of Kings and the Lord of Lords under the bus. In these Techie days folks just label you a Social Media Loser.

Broken Angel
Broken Angel

But he embraced his broken places but not their false expectations and I will do the same.  If you only accept me in my happy up times but not in my broken sad times why say you’re my friend at all?  Unfortunate to say, But there exists no Love or Respect for Broken Angels.

Island of the Damned -- Bocklin

A Building at Rest ~ Goth Holiday at the Museum


A Building at Rest

The museum Thanksgiving Day 2012
the museum is populated by a wonderful yet mysterious quiet & peace undisturbed by the frenetic masses. Silences punctuated only by flowing water, the endless hum and shifting of building machinery.

Even normal noises can be unsettling. Especially those associated with people. The building has become a living breathing organism Uttering creaks moans sighs groans from nearly 150 years of footfalls, voices, radios, songs, cantatas, the chiming of clocks, exclamations of awe & wonder. Whispers from an Archaic Victorian century long past to digital diversity.

Oh what secrets lie transfixed within these silent walls yearning for release.  The Hunger has been unleashed upon the populace.

The immortality of brick, mortar & steel record the march of ethnicities & nations who roam free these hallowed halls.

Sometimes the sudden interruption of footfalls becomes ominous, invading the sanctity of the Holy Sanctuary. Even the sound of my own steps is somewhat menacing. What spirits accompany me on perambulations among the saints and sinners?

The feeble burbling of the fountain stream’s half-hearted attempts to empty its essence, struggling to pollinate magnificent coins.

The day is at end, the light has faded. Now the night crew enters to continue the evening melody.

Hotel California
Hotel California

Reflections Goth Holiday 2013

Cadaver Mind A.D.D.

Heaving sighs and moans.  Creaks, chrupping of brick, mortar, steel and glass pane windows. Blood oozes and drips from open wounds in Laymen’s red brick walls. Elevator doors open and a thousand wailing, howling, grieving souls swoop through the air and into the Medieval Court crying for revenge. Flight of the Valkyries. The Martyrs avenge their unjust and untimely deaths. Swirling and whirling like profane dervishes from netherworld’s portal of the undead.

Angels Falling
Angels Falling

Hail Mary Echoes from thousands of Knights, monks, Nuns, bishops, and church saints racing through Byzantium corridors. Spirits of Reliquaries issue forth warnings and admonishments to modern day savages. Reliquary Fingers of Blessing Inflict Pain Yanking Opening Death’s Door breaking off bits and pieces of flesh, bone, teeth and hair for deposit into ossuary banks.

Slats opening and closing mindfully as though giving some secret Morse Code. Dioramas of Death act out murderous suicidal dramas. Eagle slays Dragon plucking out blinded eyes from empty orbs.

Medieval castle built long ago by invaders long forgotten. A grand foyer flanked by two long hallways of Byzantine art leading into Medieval Sculpture Hall filled with statues of Madonnas, Saints, Mystics, Relics, and tombs from Egypt, Europe, Greece, Cyprus and South America. Kali goddess of the sarcophagus raises her many arms in Victory. Subterranean pipes hissing steam clanking unrest.

Island of the Damned -- Bocklin
Island of the Damned by Bocklin

Secret panels opening up to Mausoleum subterranean chambers containing overturned ossuaries, bones bleached white scattered throughout the tombs.

Abruptly Angels on the Christmas tree come to life and like ravenous vampire bats attack unsuspecting visitors. Reanimated Reliquary Arms reach out to throttle throats of fleeing patrons. Fang toothed Egyptian mummies arise and break through display cases to satiate their ancient eon hunger upon frenzied victims. Their desert saliva spreading infection causing festering vile pus filled carbuncles to captive prey.

Emptiness and Futility of Life
Life’s ignoble Ending

Desire run rampant as sacrilegious effigies coupled and reached radiant necrophilia orgasm stone bodies now made supple. Mystics and Monks glowered lecherously all the while reciting Gregorian chants, dirges and cries for absolution filling the room with the intensity of their mating.

Gargoyles descended from illicit trysts with human females and warlock man beasts gave into the licentious behaviors’ anointing themselves and fleeing clienteles with seminal fluid oily slick.

Orgasm became an exceptional obsession.

Viscous gleaming blood, shimmering with glided preternatural flakes of light. Black Iris her breasts like soft fragrant pillows.