Are you a night owl or are you the early bird? What’s your most productive time of day? When do you do your best work?
Me, Sylvester & Weezer. My cats my night time companions.
I have chronic insomnia so I guess I’m a Night-owl. For a long time I named myself the Midnight Marauder! I have no idea whether my insomnia is due to menopause hormonal changes, job related stress or just plain aging. Many of my co-workers and friends who are in their 50s or 60s report needed less sleep or being unable to sleep through the night so maybe sleeplessness is just a by product of getting older.
I think I’m also part Vampire because I always want to sleep during the day and stay up at night! However thanks to my U.S. Army training I still wake up early which is a good thing. I’m never late for work.
I do my best writing at either dusk or dawn. The period between wake-fullness and sleep provides me the most and best inspiration. As for my photography that is a daytime activity. For safety reasons I usually don’t go walking around the city at night taking photos. However in places that are well policed with lots of people like 34th Street Penn Station or other major hubs then I will whip out my camera.
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.
In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “1984.”
1984
You’re locked in a room with your greatest fear. Describe what’s in the room.
Rats, Roaches, Waterbugs and the only way out involves a Cliff precipice or a creaky old wooden foot bridge across a bottomless chasm!! Heights are not my friend. Sounds like that Horror movie Saw!!
Measuring about 4’8” they had gray-green eyes and a snarled mess of teal blue hair that fell from their heads to their ankles. A race of Cousin Its who had escaped from the Addams Family and mated with Smurfette. Every so often there would be a great divide within these walking haystacks when tentacles would emerge, grasp the being nearest to them all the while emitting spores that enabled them to engage in a type of conjugal bliss harmonizing their universe and populating future cosmos. Egg donors pushed out womb offerings for the spores’ consummation.
You must allow the bed to take you. It’s the only way. Pollination. Germination. Fruit. Appendages.
Steles push up granite flowers. Stone Flowers. Stillborn. Alien stillborns cry out for vindication.
He’s just a middle-aged painted Lolita straining to call forth the waiting semen amidst a garden of extraterrestrial after-births.
Dimensions: 12 ft. × 6 ft. 6 in. × 6 ft. (365.8 × 198.1 × 152.4 cm)
Sometimes I would watch as they chased and caught smaller humanoid beings decapitating them with a lassoed tentacle tug then planting their tiny heads as seeds with the promise of a shrunken head springtime crop during the moon’s 6th ellipses. Tasty. Delicious. Like brussel sprouts sauteed in olive oil.
Gathering at the ceremonial castle they marched in sync howling chanting:
Babbling Bitches have me in stitches.
The Babble of the rabble gives rise to bewitches.
On and on a series of feet stampeding through Wonderland. Wheelers keeping an uneven but steady tempo.
Aristocratic corpses shimmer in glee.
A dead Mariachi Band Member dances for filthy lucre.
The Cyclist body lay crumpled between sighing posts. Mangled beyond recognition. His bike wheels spinning waiting for its riders return. He was the color of repose.
Ahhh…. Look at All the Lonely People. Where do they come from? Where do they all belong?
Beatles- Eleanor Rigby
Somebody needs to check to see if Elvis is in the alligator. For there is an umbrella that will take you to the 13th floor.
We come from a long line of Firestarters, feeling nostalgic for another self but knowing that those above gather the fallen cinders.
7 For God has not given us a spirit of fear, but of power and of love and of a sound mind.
F.E.A.R ~~ False Evidence Appearing Real
We hide behind that Wall of Silence thinking if I’m just quiet enough I can slip under the radar. They won’t see me. I can hide and everything will be alright not knowing or not caring that Silence = Death.
We’ve become a society of trained apathetic circus clowns who when the powers that be say jump we ask how high. If we shuck and jive continually bowing down to the institution plantation head clowns. If we kiss their ass long enough perhaps we will be permitted the privilege of being allowed to slave another day.
Judith with the Head of Holofernes
Reduced to a mass of sniveling groveling cowards we’ve sold our birthrights for the few crumbs that drop from the Overseers table. We rant and rave against Ferguson, Staten Island and other atrocities but back away from the injustice in our own backyards. Completely ignoring all the weapons within reach, easily at our disposal. All we have to do is pick them up use them but instead we say it’s not happening to me so I’m safe. Safe for how long? Who guarantees that you’ll magically be released at the age of 62 or now 66? There are no outside saviors.
It’s you that will make a difference. Do you really think that by ignoring the cries of others that evil, harm, & wickedness won’t come your way? You’re living in a glass bubble. And why post scriptures of peace, love and redemption without acknowledging that even Jesus got angry and threw the money-changers out of the Temple. But No we mix idly among thieves, robbers, rapists, stalkers tethered to electronic mind numbing devices entranced by technological marvels ignoring the mud and filth accumulating on our clothes while building empires in the sand. Yes the brainwashing has been completed successfully and the new slave masters smile from on high. Disconnect. Disconnect. Disconnect.
Nzingha African Warrior Queen & Priestess
Interesting how some men feel that women should sit down, shut up and be quiet when it comes to abuse, bullying, stalking, threats and/or sexual harassment. If it happens to the woman personally or friends of her, she is cautioned to keep quiet because the attacker is of an alabaster hue and she resides in Ebony. Too late. Pillsbury Dough-boy meet the Nubian Ninja.
When I was a kid I heard some Black people say, “If you’re white you’re alright. If you’re Brown stick around. If you’re Black get back!”
That was then. This is now. Those days and that bullshit thinking is over.
#WomensLivesMatter
But any attempts to silence me will only cause me to cry out louder, talk more, yell, scream, fight and organize against injustice. Never tell a woman who has survived being battered, abused and harassed to hold her peace. I already bear the scars of war so what’s a few more? Yes there should be an expectation of safety in your home, at your workplace, house of worship and school. Not only will I stand up for myself but also for any woman who needs me and requires my assistance. Who taught me to be such a Sassafras? Edward G. Palmer. I am my Father’s Daughter. I am a Soldier. I am a Righteous Warrior of God. I am unafraid. Who took up the Sword in my defense? My Mother Mable Elizabeth Palmer. I am My Mother’s Daughter. Warrior Queen!
Espiritu en Fuego/A Fiery Spirit 