The Ballad of Emerson Skreech


 

 

The Ballad of Emerson Skreech

 

Soliloquy for the Prodigal Daughter

 

 

A Bit of Backstory

https://dancingpalmtrees.com/2018/01/01/the-return-of-the-prodigal-daughter/

 

Dream Lover Fantasy aborted. Bitch Mode in process. Engage. I felt like I was sitting in a cold damp mist after exiting a relaxing soothing sauna. Breath.

It took all the mental and emotional effort that Emerson Skreech could muster to form sentences that made sense.  Word Selection. Operate.  Emerson had to go through a mental flight plan each time he uttered a sound as he struggled with ill-fitting dentures as well as a pronounced lisp.

Breath. In. Out. In the midst of getting my scrambled thoughts into coherent words She made that serpentine motion with her tongue removing the salt from the edge of her drinking glass in one fell swoop.

 

 

 

 

Spoke by Hamlet, Hamlet Act 5 Scene 1:
Alas, poor Yorick! I knew him, Horatio: a fellow
of infinite jest, of most excellent fancy: he hath
borne me on his back a thousand times; and now, how
abhorred in my imagination it is! my gorge rims at
it. Here hung those lips that I have kissed I know
not how oft. Where be your gibes now? your
gambols? your songs? your flashes of merriment,
that were wont to set the table on a roar? Not one
now, to mock your own grinning? quite chap-fallen?
Now get you to my lady’s chamber, and tell her, let
her paint an inch thick, to this favour she must
come; make her laugh at that.

 

 

 

JoyBaieda Ruein  ~~  The Making of An End

 

She is the Luxurious Fox to my slimy hound dog.  Joy was a slow slinky melody filled with mesmerizing syncopation.  When I Emerson Skreech discovered her all she was just another one of the irresistible creatures raising their skirts for the latest repeat customers.  Now she was a raging inferno. Impossible to contain but with each breath of oxygen eager to expand.  Myths and Legends corrupted my mind.  Emerson Skreech consumed by lust and immoral pleasures believe the best and received the worst. Bewitched by a Bronzed highlighted entrancing beauty.  At once I understood how Adama felt when God broke his companion rib.  Dancing with her though a delicate pleasure my internal cognition was slowly being extinguished.

What was sacred now becomes hideous.   Exploration and entry into her sacred Temple was a high price that cost into a then unknown future.  My engorged purple red pole dug the grave and planted the Cenotaph that singled my burial.  My shaft spit seed into a poisonous chamber.  JoyBaieda was an Orchard in Bloom and I a thirsty Gardener | Gate Keeper.  A Horticulturist of infected spores.  Her body ~~ my tomb.  Scorched, I sank into the depths of vast ocean seas coming to rest inside an abandoned house where everything was left intact. Mesmerized I expected forgetful innkeepers to return, the taps to flow, songs sung and dancers spinning, twirling and gyrating while thick beer steins are raised in toast to safe passageways.

 

A Punctured Romance from the start.  I’ve come to the Potter’s Field Sanatorium to bury my bones.  We were like rambling gnarling twisting trees marveling at volcanic Lava Monoliths arising from a barren windblown sandy desert.  We stripped the bark from each others branches.

 

A Luminous Aura Borealis burst into exploded galaxies.

 

 

To Be Continued…………………………………………………….

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Jephthah’s Daughters


Jephthah’s Daughters.(Click here to read more)

Shall we regard our girl children as Jephthah’s Daughters?  How long will we continue to perpetuate the adage, “Women love their sons, but raise the daughters.”  Every child deserves the opportunity to succeed in life but success comes through accepting responsibility and learning to be accountable.  Any child male or female who constantly lashes out at authority figures in a bid to always be “right” is a child bound for prison or the graveyard.  Stop making girls the sacrificial lambs!!

Ladies, let’s love our girl children and stop putting them on the altar in order to save a son who does not wanted to be saved and does not think he needs help or worse some no account man who should not even be a part of our households to begin with. Let us not return to ancient times when girls and women were thought of as little more than chattel or commodities to be bought and sold. (See below for more details on ancient economies)

Girl Sacrifice

“One of the unusual things about the Bible is that it preserves some bits of this larger context. … It would seem that the economy of the Hebrew kingdoms, by the time of the prophets, was already beginning to develop the same kind of debt crises that had long been common in Mesopotamia: espe­cially in years of bad harvests, the poor became indebted to rich neigh­bors or to wealthy moneylenders in the towns, they would begin to lose title to their fields and to become tenants on what had been their own land, and their sons and daughters would be removed to serve as servants in their creditors’ households, or even sold abroad as slaves.

“[This is what the biblical book of Nehemiah is referring to in the passage,] ‘Some of our daughters are brought unto bondage already: neither is it in our power to redeem them.’ One can only imagine what those words meant, emotionally, to a father in a patriarchal society in which a man’s ability to protect the honor of his family was everything. Yet this is what money meant to the ma­jority of people for most of human history: the terrifying prospect of one’s sons and daughters being carried off to the homes of repulsive strangers to clean their pots and provide the occasional sexual services, to be subject to every conceivable form of violence and abuse, pos­sibly for years, conceivably forever, as their parents waited, helpless, avoiding eye contact with their neighbors, who knew exactly what was happening to those they were supposed to have been able to protect. … http://www.delanceyplace.com/view_archives.php?2009

Donations to this Ministry for the Housing Fund can be made in U.S. Funds via money order or bank checks made payable to Rochdale Village Inc. 169-65 137th Avenue, Jamaica, NY 11434, Account No. 083-11G-16924 or directly to deborah.palmer280@gmail.com via Paypal.  Thank you and God Bless.

Beauty of the English Language


Beauty of the English Language

I’m a Lover of the English Language. I Love it because of all of its quirks, idiosyncrasies, and eccentricities.

When I was in college The Elements of Style by Strunk & White, plus The Little, Brown Handbook were my best friends. Now the dictionary is my best friend. I’m constantly looking up the proper spelling and definition of words. Yes, when I write I’m constantly editing my work for spelling, punctuation and grammar. The only time I let certain things slip is when I want to create an effect within my poems. With poetry I can be flexible.

The grammar and punctuation lessons from my online writers group excite me. That’s because the English language is dynamic and mercurial. It’s a composite of Latin roots and American English has incorporated words from every ethnic group to settle these shores in addition to words from our Native American sisters and brothers. English has an ebb and flow like the Oceans and opens its arms to embrace and adopt new words that keep it a living language.

I receive thrills and chills when I read Shakespeare or the King James Version of the Bible. For me the KJV has a beauty, flow, cadence and rhythm that the NIV or the Amplified will never have. The scriptures just sound better they way there were written in 1611. Shakespeare. What can I say about him? For me he is the master. The dialogue and soliloquies from Hamlet just trip off my tongue. Out of all his plays Hamlet is my all time favorite.

My parents especially my father Edward Palmer always demanded that I speak proper English both inside and outside our home. Reading was heavily encouraged in my home and my parents regularly purchased books, children’s magazines and had me reading the New York Times at an early age. This was great when I was around my family, however growing up and even as an adult I was accused of “talking white” by my fellow African-Americans! I learned to ignore these gibes especially as I got older and saw the benefits of being articulate. My young cousins know that Cousin DeBorah will correct their speech and their homework if I hear or see them brutalizing the language. I cringe when I walk down Jamaica Avenue, Guy Brewer or Baisley boulevards and I hear young people misusing English. I’m not speaking of slang because every generation had that. Also every ethnic group has its own little axioms or gems of wisdom for getting their point across, I mean when I hear young people use “axe” for ask. Are they about to kill someone? Maybe.

I fully recognize usage of regional slave speech by Paul Laurence Dunbar and dialects such patois, the Creole of the Gullah/geechee people of South Carolina and Georgia. Dialects have their place as they serve to unify regions and social groups. My beloved late Mom was from Dayton, Ohio and until I entered elementary school I never realized that some of the words she used were Midwestern slang and not necessarily acceptable outside of our home. I did find something very interesting when I traveled to Kingston, Jamaica in the late 80s early 90s. Some of the words I heard my mother use every day at home were also being used in Jamaica. Just a different accent.

However dialects and slang not withstanding there is no excuse for poor English usage written or spoken by native-born Americans. Ebonics and/or Black English do not exist for me. I might resort to the vernacular in the “hood” but when I’m out within the greater society proper English is not only essential it’s mandatory.

Of course, my English is not perfect. In fact I’m always a work in progress which is the main reason my desk is a mess. I always need many reference books at hand to complete just one page of work! One day maybe all the various rules and regulations that govern English will just come to mind automatically instead of my always having to look things up. Pray for me y’all!! LOL!!

SPELL

Last year I was part of an English Language association called Society for the Preservation of English Language and Literature. Their motto is “Binding Together Lovers of Our Language”. If anyone is interested in joining the address is:

Post Office Box 321

Braselton, GA 30517

E-mail: spellgang@juno.com

Website: www.spellorg.com

 The newsletter SPELL/Binder features many articles on Punctuation and Grammar, Pet Peeves, plus Novelists No-Nos, as well as articles on how the mother tongue is being murdered via the media. It is a very interesting publication.