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.
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.
We are in Love with the idea of Love but Reality is oh so different. Romance is a broken down heap in an unused garage with a drunken clipped wing Cupid splayed out beside it swilling in his own vomit. The illusions of Cupid were shot down by his own arrows. Arrows tipped with poison that turn healthy beating hearts into gangrenous rotting putrid shells. Love is anxiety, disappointment, hurt, pain and stress coupled with fear. Vitreous Spears of viperous snakes slithering from brain to core corrupting of part of human life.
Last night I spied Venus and Mars exiting the House of the Rising Sun on their way to the local dive bar. Yup Love and War. Two sides of the same coin.
Cupid and his mother Venus are thinking of getting their own Reality show called Life’s Broken Dreams. Broken Dreams lead to Broken Hearts. Walk in the Light of Truth and kick both Cupid and Venus to the curb! The Steel Iron Armor has sealed my Amore and the key has been thrown in the River Styx.
Semper Fi never removed his spectacles even in the heat of desire. His pince-nez caught, captured and dispensed salty yearning drops of sweat upon whichever passion princess he had chosen for his evenings of lust.
His bull powered thrusts accompanied by violent shakes and heaves of the Brass headboard threatened to crash through the plaster thin wall and into the adjoining room. Fellow patrons and madams nicknamed him the Bull in the China Shop for his furious jackhammer prick pounding he gave to Ladies of the Evening with his equine sized crimson member. His broad face with flaring nostrils and rather full lips rendered him some animalistic qualities which he gladly played out in the boudoir.
His sonorous speeches gave way to animalistic grunts, groans, and growls that increased with intensity of each hammer G-Spot driven plunge. At the crescendo when he could no longer hold back the volcanic force surging inside he withdrew to spew his semen eruption over his mistress rounded abdomen, full firm breasts and thick thighs.
During the week he was a respectable Antique Bookshop Owner dealing with annoying customers and fickle publishers and shady book collectors. By the weekend it’s like all that ferocity wrapped up inside he was ready to be released in the Ultimate Weekend Fuck Fest. Sometimes he was able to release building tension with whichever out of town female research bookseller/collector was in town for a convention or a project. He was usually able to win them over with his humor, charm and dinners at the finest restaurants in town. Fortunately for Semper Fi his begetter though rich in seminal fluids was totally devoid of sperm otherwise he would have sired legions offspring with the many young fertile women he serviced on a regular basis. On first glance his dangling appendage had ample girth but seemed to lack length but that assumption was quickly falsified during arousal.
Such was his reputation that every Friday when he made his grand entrance into the Pussy Palace Bordello all the Ladies in Waiting vied for his attention by wearing their most entrancing scintillating garb so that they would be the chosen mare to be rode hard and put out wet.
Semper Fi with his musician fingers explored every nook, cranny, crevice and grotto of the selected woman’s body blessing her with multiple orgasms before entering her moist dark chambers with his elephantine rod of steel.
The aromatic oils that he liberally anointed his body daily provided powerful pheromones when mixed with his natural man musk scent. Sometimes his spurting semen cascaded over the woman like golden glistening raindrops against a window pane. Other times he ejaculated copious white cream which sprayed over flaming hips and thighs like a profuse foggy mist mixing with her fragrant perspiration murky perfumes.
His favorite of the entire harem was Sophronia whose twisted back gave him a thousand pleasures in mind and body while away from her or when tracing his fingers along the S-shaped curve that she desperately tried to hide with elaborate costumes. She was a looker that one with her Almond shaped eyes hazel eyes and burnished skin. Sophie was an African/Native American fairytale goddess with her sepia toned complexion, deep burgundy magenta twisty curly Nappy mane that spiraled out from her head like leafy tree branches reaching for sunlight, and full lips that had a natural purple tinge over a set of perfectly formed teeth.
“I Know that I’m not much to look at but I used to be the Crown Prince of Manhood, the Courtier of Cum among Royal Lovers.”
This laughable boast came on an exultation of foul and fetid breath akin to human waste lying in the bottom of a sewer emitting from a wizened and emaciated corpse like figure with a red bulging knobby doorknob on the end of a shriveled pecker. How it managed to stand at attention was a miracle from the saints or gods of nonstop porn. His face was a veritable road-map of lines, wrinkles, valleys, pitted scars with a bird beak blue veined appendage masquerading as a nose jutting forth from sunken cheeks. Above the beak nose were two rheumy eyes topped by beetle brows which looked more like two warring caterpillars wrangling for domination of an egg shaped skull sprouting tufts of errant hairs growing from the beak nose, elongated ears and the various moles on his scrofulous person.
Then it began. I closed my eyes and did my best to disengage all my senses as this old bag of bones began his pitiful assault upon my body. I tried to drown out the sound of the Click-Clacking of false teeth in rhythm with hurried asthmatic prods that gradually became more pathetic and feebler though he put his hairy back best with his pecker pushing. Thankfully he was done in under five minutes. The way he panted and gasped for air I thought he was having a heart attack and about to cum and go at the same time!
Four minutes of torture and hell. Because I have Scoliosis I had to deal with the runts of the litter. Yup I get all the Gumbys and Pokeys. Though we are fed, housed, clothed and housed like Renaissance Odalisques there is still a pecking order of beauty. My face, my sun-kissed umber skin, my small perfectly round breasts and long curly wavy chestnut locks got me a reprieve from just being another filthy dirty street urchin but this curvature of the spine has relegated me to servicing the worst of the many patrons who pass through these palatial doors.
During the week I was spared from my licentious duties but come Friday, payday once again I had to endure filthy spotted old men with dragon breath, bodies smelling like rancid meat who peeled away phosphorous shit breeches from their narrow wrinkly asses. When my luck was especially bad I dealt with the twins Geeky and Gimpy. One classic faced bumbling Nerd and the other though having no malformation of his lower limbs seemed to bang into every piece of furniture in the room no matter how far apart the furnishings were arranged. I grinned and bared the fumbling’s and false starts because they paid well and the other Odalisques either refused to service them or found a way to disappear when they entered the bordello. Though both were fairly young, perhaps in their 20s they did no better in the stamina and endurance department than the old coots in their 70s and 80s. You went in expecting volcanic emissions and received only a little smoke, a few burps and many farts. Dribblers all.
Damn my twisted back!! Relegated to porcine misanthropes and brachiocephalic troglodytes!!
Few and far in between are opportunities to be with my Beloved Semper Fi a robust man in his late 40s. Mattered not to him my twisted spine as he guided me gently onto his massive bull staff. Skillfully bringing me to numerous orgasms complimenting me on my long curly chestnut hair, my perfect A Cup breasts gifted with large sensitive raisins that grew even larger as he sucked and licked me into ecstasy. What gave me even more pleasure than his substantial endowment was that he chose me. Semper would call at least two or three days in advance specifically requesting my services. I felt honored to be chosen by this man among men. But then again where does the Sycophant stop and the Courtesan begin?
I came here from a rural backwater village after a disastrous arranged marriage. Truthfully there was no consummation on my wedding night once my betrothed disrobed me and began screaming and cursing in horror and disgust at my Quasimodo form tossing me from the matrimonial bed, calling the town elders who made preparations for me to be sent back to my father’s tent. My father who was always ashamed of me and who found himself disgraced not only within our tribe sent me away into the wilderness with only the clothes on my back and what few possessions I could gather whilst trying to escape his stormy anger.
Good fortune did smile upon me as I traversed the dusty road away from the only home I had ever known. Angels in the forms of my mother, aunts and sisters had extinguished my father’s fiery rage through liberal applications of wine. Once he entered the land of intoxicated snores my weeping women saddled horses, loaded them down with as many provisions as they could hold and interception my journey. We hugged, cried and mourned my passing knowing a rejected woman is as one dead. A Jepthah’s daughter placed upon the sacrificial altar never to be seen or heard from again.
They also managed to bargain with the disgruntled groom managing to win back half my dowry which my mother tearfully entrusted to my outstretched hands. I was also given one strong yet steady sway back donkey. A fitting companion who mirrored my disability and temperament. My past I knew well but my future was just a cloudy day on the horizon.
DEPRAVITY, DEBAUCHERY, decadence
Vice ridden timeworn men who still sustain the impure flames of lust despite the chill of old age.
A worthy adage of a man on the cusp geezer-hood.
Stepping from the filthy foul smelling streets men were ushered into exotic elaborately decorated quarters decorated with expensive Persian rugs, medieval tapestries, silk draperies hung upon windowless walls, tables adorned with Tiffany lamps. A subtle scent of incense permeated the airways. The decorations seemed incongruous yet harmonized together in an irregular yet pleasing manner. Palatial taste a bit ostentatious like a Renaissance bordello. The furnishings were highly articulated and faceted Baroque/Rococo objects, many with deep gouges and gashes suggesting transparency and interior penetration. This room and much of the house as well as the street urchins who passed through seemed to us an Orientalist fantasy. At the far end of the living room hung a painting of a Minotaur coupling with a Centauride.
Within this underworld we meet our sardonic proprietors in sex trade, the mirthless dwarf called, BASTINADO BOOBYALLA.
Booby as he was affectionately known had the face of Peter Lorre and the heft and bulk of a miniaturized Sidney Greenstreet. Booby had the misfortune of being scurrilous and scrofulous. His rough skin was spotted with scabies and his body emitted a sepulchral odor. Spiteful
Booby was was the bodily opposite of his Partner in Crime Bumfiddler Clatterfart.
Bummy was six feet tall of bulging muscles, narrow waist and sculpted buttocks. His lack of moral fiber and somewhat limited intellectual faculties innate in most normal human personalities could be easily perceived in his cranial structure and his overall physiognomy. The shock of wild reddish brown hair closely cut on the sides of the head, the high sloping forehead, prominent brow ridges, receding nostrils and thin lips, these features put one in mind of a simian head attached to the body of Atlas. Bummy’s nature embodied the seven deadly sins from head to foot.
Booby and Bummy were the real owners of the bordello that Semper Fi patronized on a weekly basis.
Though the outer streets were rundown, garbage strewn and suspect inside the elaborate bedchambers fit for a king were divided into three sections one being the actual room where Semper Fi carried Bronco Busting escapades with an ornate Italian Renaissance canopy bed replete with seraphim, cherubim, and putti on the ceiling looking down seemingly blessing the lewd acts committed in that bed.
Business offices where the girls reported for inspection and assignments at first resembled an Italian studiolo. Scholarly books that were never read, save those dealing with what he felt was the “science of photography and videography” lined the bookshelves along the walls. There was a collection of opera records beside an ancient Victrola, which either Bummy or Booby played incessantly even during to block the sounds of various vigorous sexual acts committed in the bawdy house. Usually one or both of the duo would choose a woman for themselves and during those sexual gymnastics the music became louder more than likely to mask their grunts and groans plus the simulated shrieks of whatever sex worker was chosen to honor their illustrious owners.
Dagmar served as a type of governess to the young women. Their harem quickly became a zone of safety from streets of starvation, disease and death. They were bathed, perfumed and outfitted like odalisques in paintings from centuries past.
As time went on many young women passed through our heathen portals but one stood out from the others. She was literally abandoned at our doorstep. At first we thought the girl to be deaf and dumb because she neither spoke except to make nearly unintelligible sounds nor seemed to respond to our commands. Dagmar and I thought her a poor fit for our scandalous enterprises. Dagmar took her into the women’s’ chambers to be washed cleaned of the dirt and filth that seemed to encased her fragile body and discovered a note pinned to her grimy undergarments. Succinctly the note said her name was Sophronia and that she had just turned eighteen with her moon cycle having started three seasons prior. Dagmar was always good at persuasion and bringing out the best in wounded animals. Coaxing Sophie was no different. After a time Sophie as we nicknamed the girl responded to Dagmar’s gentle persuasions. A bond of trust developed between the two despite the fact that Dagmar knew the girls eventual destiny.
Many moons passed and Sophie as Dagmar liked to call her became quite the coquette. For some odd reason Eve became a favorite of Booby who outfitted her in dresses and skirts of silk, satin, lace, velvet. Many lovely cream colored fabrics some with lace trim others with glass beads and sequins. Before we knew it Sophie’s 21st birthday was upon us and Booby had a special costume made up for Sophie. It was a beautiful blood red silk satin with lace trimming with velvet calf length skirts. However as joyful as Sophie was when she donned the frock what pleased her even more were the Bordello Shoes—Red Velveteen Victorian button-up Boots with a two inch heel. Sophie’s thick dark hair was caught up in a chignon ala Gibson Girl but she had the Bohemian spirit of the Flapper.
As much a disciple of Bacchus as the god’s original followers neither Booby nor Bummy ever touched Sophie. Her chambers were the height of ornamentation and ostentation with elaborate sinks, tubs, showers and a bidet. Something the other girls could only dream about. Yes Sophie was a prize. And such an Odalisque could not be hidden from Semper Fi for very long………….
She put her hand to the Stone and a million millennia of memories coursed through her soul and out from her pores.
She put her hand to every boulder and heard the rocks cry out their praise to Our Creator.
She put her hand to the magnificent Oak Tree and received the voices of streams, rivers, oceans, lakes and streams.
She put her hand inside Gaia Mother Earth and heard the calls of sacrifices, bog dwellers, cave peoples, the cries of those murdered all crying out for justice.
She extended her hands within the forest absorbed the singings of creatures past and present reverberating within her spirit. Her fingers touched the voices of cave dwellers imbuing their drawings with Life. And in the fullness of time vibrations echoed through the eons.
She put her hand upon the Rock of Ages and they extended their hands inside her inner being enveloping her with knowledge, wisdom and understanding.
What Are The Akashic Records & How to Access the Akashic Records
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.
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.”