Transverse L train tracks. His momentum stopped by 3rd rail and oncoming train.
Leftover burnt parts carefully wrapped in a shroud encased in pine box. Neatly packaged and wrapped in time for the holidays. A gift his mother could not accept.
Dance of the Dead.
Fears are paper tigers. (Amelia Earhart)
Sometimes you should be afraid. Fear can protect you from doing something possibly fatal to your existence!!
Enter a caption
Banquet of the Starved by James Ensor (Belgian, Ostend 1860–1949 Ostend)
Completed the Veteran’s Administration Online form to apply for health care. Hopefully they should get back to me in about two weeks. Once the VA gets back to me then I’ll set up an appointment not just for medical care but to avail myself of any other services and programs they VA has for Women Veterans. I served my country now it is time for my country to lend me a helping hand.
In the Meantime I’m……..
Dreaming Down a Well
I’m Dreaming Down a Well. Looking into the Abyss wondering how to fetch my dreams and save them from imminent disaster. I can see them. Arms stretched out waiting for me to throw Life Preservers. Life Jackets. A Net. Anything they can grab onto for salvation from a watery grave.
A Bucket. Damaged. A Rope. Now Long Since Frayed. Worn from constant use.
Send in the Buffalo Soldiers! Call forth the Avenging Angels of Mercy!
No Regrets? Yes I regret. A Youth Long Gone. Relegated to Ancient Myst’s.
Double V for Victory. Victory at Overseas. Victory at Home.
Star-seed buried in the sand awaits fertile ground. Resurrection. Regeneration. New Birth.
Nailiah nuzzled the earth like a hungry lamb or goat bleating out hunger cries in search for a Merciful Mother. Searching out the Allegorical Lessons of the Cave.
I bid the powers of the Luxurious Fox for release and redemption. Banished from Exile.
Out of Sync.
Re-Calibrating. Re~calibrating.
Scraping my scabby putrefying boils with pottery shards. Rocking the earth with wailing prayers. When I shed my old skin will that be my freedom?
Looking out my lonesome boxcar I see my brothers in bondage singing freedom songs. Wondering when their healing will come as I seek mine. Islands of Lost Souls sentenced to endless purgatory.
American where is my traveling train? Darkness enters dawn diminishing shadows play havoc with sun, moon, and stars. Tuning Forks humming. When will I see my Rosie again? Overseer rifle gun trained on me.
Chain gang
Southern Prison Blues Rosie Chain Gang Blues YouTube
Steamer Trunk moth riddled clothes. Ashes scattered into the Ganges. Speckled Watchmen screaming swing that pick boy. Keep that rhythm. Berta, Berta every day is Monday. I’ve fallen into a dark place with no sight of myself. Cleansing Monsoon wash me into dank sinister funeral sands.
Early morning every morning I rise on the wrong side. I cut myself on shards of volcanic ash but the boulders cannot crush my soul. Freedom is a lonesome word.
When that sun goes down then I escape in mind if not in body. In my dreams I see her beside me. A voice keeps calling me. Is it my honey sweet baby or an Angel fit to carry me home? Death Angel. Death Angel, holding the reapers sword.
Espiritu en Fuego/A Fiery Spirit 