The Mole People

On July 13, 2018March 26, 2018 By dancingpalmtreesIn Beauty & The Beast, Chambers Street Subway Station, Fusion Poetry, Hodgepodge Poetry, Midnight Marauder, Poems, Poetry, Prose and Poetry, Ron Perlman, The Mole People, Uncategorized

Chambers Street Subway Station

The Mole People

Chambers Street Subway Station

Should be named the Chambers of Horror Subway Station. Looks like a left over movie set from an old Vincent Price film like the Secret Laboratory Chambers of Dr. Phibes! As I was sitting waiting in a train that I thought would never arrive I recalled that old TV show Beauty and the Beast starring Ron Perlman!

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Beauty_and_the_Beast_(1987_TV_series)

http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0092319/

Any moment as I awaited the mystery train dozens of denizens would emerge from subterranean underground chambers and caverns beckoning me to join them! I work the night shift usually arriving at the J train Chambers street station a little after midnight. The trains run so much slower after midnight. Cleaning, power-washing, maintenance and repairs. Subway workers doing after dark what cannot be done during daylight hours. That night as the platform seemed extra deserted. Even the regular unusual suspects of homeless, vagabonds and vagrants were not there. Sitting on the hard wooden benches. I wondered who or what could be down there? Abandoned trains from the nascent years of long discarded 20th Century subway cars? Zombie Train conductors and Motormen still driving ancient decrepit out of service trains? Secret Oracles and Seers ala The Matrix seeking the Chosen One?

Then as my sleep glazed over eyes swept across the opposite platform I saw or thought I saw a faint glimmer of a returned gaze. Shaking my drowsy head and blinking several times my eyes seemed to travel of their own free will back to an especially darkened area and I swore I could make out two silver eyes staring back at me.

Just then the thought crossed my mind, “Small mutants with Silver Eyes have great effects.”

Then I thought of all those who had fallen, were pushed or jumped onto the tracks? Ones who in violent deaths left behind their fragrant sillage and sludge. A Melancholy of neither being in this world or the next. Displaced spirits engaging in mindless repetition seeking results only they will understand.

That night the J train seemed even slower in arriving than usual. Then as if out of the mists a train pulled into the station. But where had it come from? None of the expected rumbling or screeching of rails to track. I boarded the mysterious train and as the doors closed behind me I knew this ride was not going to be the Polar Express.

Hmmmm……… A Potential Creepypasta in the making!

After suffering blows to my head, face and body from a fierce thrashing the night before, I awoke to utter darkness permeated only by a shaft of light coming from a small window high above my head. I attempted to move my arms and legs only to find that I was shackled to a contraption that can only be described as a type of restraining hospital bed found in mental institutions. Realizing the severity of my situation my muddled mind sought clarity; my first coherent thoughts were, “Why and how did I get to this place; where was I and how can escape. Gradually my eyes became accustomed to the limited light and since the bed was at an angle I could discern implements of upcoming torture, my torment that would be inflicted upon me if I did not escape or was not rescued.

Heavy measured footsteps approached and I could discern the voices of my captors. The door to the torture chamber opened and my persecutors became visible. There stood Dagmar aka Gorgeous Hellcat.

The underbelly of the castle where I was held against my will appeared to be a bomb shelter left over from the 1940s and 1950s. But as I gathered my various spinning selves together my focused eyes beheld a sight not seen by many above ground.
It was residence akin to a 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, Catholic Mystics, Relics, and tombs from Egypt, Europe, Greece, Cyprus and South America. Each international tomb had a goddess from the respective ancient culture at the head and foot of the sarcophagus.
Venturing further into the castles subterranean chambers were overturned ossuaries, bones bleached white scattered throughout the tombs.

Climbing the Stairway to ……………..?

On January 10, 2018December 2, 2017 By dancingpalmtreesIn Midnight Marauder, O'Jays - Stairway to heaven, Stairway To Heaven - Led Zeppelin, Uncategorized

Stairway to???

Step by Step

Stair Steps to a Picturesque Village where horrors never cease. One can hear the groans and moans of the dead and dying. Once a battlefield soaked in blood, guts and gore now a grassy field with heather and lovely weeds. Dandelions blowing in the breeze. The Village. A Beautiful unspoiled happy Village.

As was Declan’s evening habit he went walking in the neighborhood historic cemetery which was located quite close to his home. Silence time. As he walked his thoughts mixed with the crunch of late Autumn leaves and early hoarfrost. So deep in musings was Declan that he was totally unaware of the clicks, ticks, buzzes, snaps and pops that emanated from the trees and foliage. An electrical storm of communications and warnings that went unheeded.

“Just for sport. Just for sport. He muttered under his breath.”

It was her startling blue eyes like orbital sapphires filled with charisma and grace that first got you then like suction drew you within. Spider eyelashes flicked and flutter as she raised a beckoning hand bedecked with moist blood red nail varnish. That wet Lacquered look ala Elvira and Vampira except Rheema had that cornsilk golden spun hair and girl next door looks that threw you off balance contrasting what a Dark Angel should appear.

That Golden hair spun loose a malevolent energy changing Declan’s former awe to complete disgust. Declan watched with mounting fear as the people formerly surrounding him were torn apart into mangled masses of flesh resembling sides of beef or badly butchered pork loins. Her banshee screams and wails caused bodies to explode and implode accompanied by cries of the unfortunate corporeals………………….

Mary Mary quite contrary,
How does your garden grow?
With silver bells and cockle shells
And pretty maids all in a row.

Borders of the Mind

On January 14, 2017 By dancingpalmtreesIn Border, Hypnos, Hypnotize, Midnight Marauder, Mole People, Morpheus, Nightmares, Phantaso, Phobetor, succubus, The Daily Post, Twin Peaks Dancing Dwarf, Uncategorized, Walls and Memories

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/border/#like-249996

TheDailyPost

Oct 7, 2016

DAILY PROMPT

Border

Walls and Memories

Yesterday is another country. Borders are now closed.

TEDDY BUTLER, Midsomer Murders, “Vixen’s Run” (2006)

But Sometimes the Past Memories come back to haunt you. The borders are permeable. There are holes in the fenced bricked walls. Thoughts within the intricacies of the mind have no fear of protective barbed wire. They weave over and around like ghosts through cemetery gates.

As much as you attempt to put the past behind you it hangs onto your coat-tails and sticks like fly paper. Where you move it goes. Forever your shadow real yet intangible daring you to leave it behind because you both know it, they, the memories, flaws and failures will always be a part of your life like skin to bone. Muscle to fiber and tendon. You can never forget. Swift Rivers carry bodies downstream to surface with the Spring thaw. Sacrifices for the Funeral Pyre.

The Immolation of Brigadier Jaynes

Brigaider Jaynes. He went insane.

Not all at once. But in bits and pieces.

Dying upon tracked grill. For the rats to get there fill.

Leftovers charcoal broiled. Pigeons, Roaches and rats gather for a feast.

He once went for Reyna Angelica. Ms. Lady who did a pole dance with a tracker trailer at the intersection of a State of Insanity. Stopping traffic for miles around.

Bodies stacked like cord-wood.

Behold the Char Man Cometh

His Fiery Frame set to blazing coals.

His disembodied entrails offerings to the Underground rat-tail gods.

Char-Man ~~ A Jumping, Jaggling, Waggling, Corpse doing a Macabre Jig inside the tunnel.

A Sign Shouted Danger/Peligroso! For Gotham is a Bi-Textual Town.

Another of the Mole People succumbs to the savageries of Life.

At Dusk when the warmth of the Sun has ceded to Night’s chill, Char Man comes to me offering to turn my bed into a living breathing fireplace with me as one of the perpetually burning logs. His eye never quits straying from my side. The Eternal Inferno Burning Spectrum infests my dreams like creeping ivy and mold. I am just an observer. If he can’t have Laura will he take me?

And so it begins once more.

Oh Laura! Where have you gone?!

Twin Peaks Dancing Dwarf

Hypnos, Morpheus and Phantasos mock me!! Phobetor, god of nightmares is my Deity.

I’ve suffered from Nightmares, Insomnia, Night Terrors and as an adult Sleep-walking. When I was younger I used to see demons at the foot of my bed and felt some type of demon or evil being sitting on my chest! Thankful that finally went away. However Sleep has rarely been peaceful or restful for me!

The Man from Another Place is Waiting for you!! For at Midnight all Black Cats are Grey and Dying men sometimes transmigrate into lesser animals. For you see I am not from Gentleness but from War. I am the Midnight Marauder a Succubus come to steal men’s souls as they sleep!

Evolution of Childhood InterPlanetary Dreams

On June 19, 2014September 30, 2017 By dancingpalmtreesIn 50+, African American Queen, Black Unicorn, Cornucopia, Creativity, DeBorah, Deliverance, Dreams, Edward Palmer, Ethiopian Goddess, Eva Gordon Palmer, Explore, Family History, Family Tree, Fantasy, Female Divinity, Feminine Divine, Folklore, Genetic Memory, Goddess, Hallucinations, Hattie Finney Banks, Hypnos, Innovation, Inquisitive, Insomnia, Jacob's Ladder, Kinky/Nappy Hair, Lyrical Family Memories, Mable Elizabeth Palmer, Mable Palmer, Maternal Heritage, Maternal lineage, Matriarchy, Memory, Mid-Life, Midnight Marauder, Morpheus, Mystical Creatures, Negritude, New Age, Night Bird, Nirvana, Oneiroi, Optical illusions, Orpheus, Poems, Protean, Quilt, Sacred, Sages, soul, Spirituality, Stigmata, Surrealism, Thánatos, Tree of Knowledge, Vision, Vision Quest, Visions1 Comment

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/planet/

Evolution of Childhood InterPlanetary Dreams

Grandmas Reign Quilt

Eva Sophronia Gordon Palmer -- Grandmother — Eva Sophronia Gordon Palmer — Grandmother

Epoch Heydays beat rhythm time Tempo bringing Glory Days and Golden Age into Earth, Space, time Continuum alignment around my being. Spiritual Discernment begins the convergence of planets, Moon-Womben Star-gazers endlessly birthing heavenly bodies and floating orbs.

Mother Africa as Creator Goddess singing Reign Blessings upon her children.

My World, the ones I saw in my Grandmother’s Quilt and the ever expanding Galaxies beyond Earth, Sky, Sun and Moon-Daughter Wishes, Hopes and Desires.

Ancient hand stretching finger Ancestor Dimensions reaching forward into time and eternity bringing revelation knowledge of history long past yet made fresh daily.

Troubles beating bloody fists upon my pate.

Belladonna into Nightshades.

Tethered by an unholy umbilical cord to a dead albatross. Dreams deluge. Green metal Frigidaire Fan blowing air opposite it’s promised heat relief. Stub toe late shift Dad curses Castro and his Convertible. Bucolic heat wave summer in the city. 25 cent Ice Cream salvation dispensed by Mr. Softee. Martha Reeves and her Vandellas gyrating to Dancing in the Streets while kids follow her Piped Pipers.

Kool-Aid libation sugar screams ensue while transistor talking heads Ralph Kiner and Lindsey Nelson called Shea play by plays. Bygone days of Tri-Corn braids. Fletcher’s Castoria Beef Iron Wine cocktails. Childhood freedom beckons signalling release from adulthood chain gangs. Teeter-totter bring unbalanced superimposed idealized memories to double-doubted times past. It’s 1964 and my Dixie Peach anointed head snuggles with Panda pillow transcending time once again in the loving arms of Grandma Eva’s patchwork quilt.

A Building at Rest ~ Goth Holiday at the Museum

On December 8, 2013August 16, 2017 By dancingpalmtreesIn Abuse, Ambien, Battle, Black Unicorn, cacophony, Death, DeBorah, deception, Delusions, despair, Dissonance, Dreams, Evil, Expectations, Fallen Angels, Fantasy, Fears, Grim Reaper, Hades, Hallucinations, hell, horror, Hotel California, Hypnos, Icelus, Insomnia, Instability, Invasion of the Body Snatchers, Koyaanisqatsi, Limbo, Loss, Lost Souls, Malevolent, Manufacturered Reality, Memory, Midnight Marauder, Mind Altering Substances, Morpheus, Museum, Mystical Creatures, Night Bird, Nightmares, Oneiroi, Orpheus, Phantaso, profane, Protean, Purgatory, Rejection, Ritual, River Styx, Scars, Skeptic, sorrow, Stigmata, Suffering, Suicide, Surrealism, Swords, Thánatos, The Twilight Zone, The Walking Dead, Trifecta of Terror, Vampires, Visions, Walking Wounded, War, Werewolves, Wicked, Zombies6 Comments

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.

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.

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.

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.