There are No Scars without first Wounds

On September 21, 2016 By dancingpalmtreesIn Gangrenous wound, Scars, There are No Scars without first Wounds, Uncategorized, Walking Wounded, William Shakespeare

There are No Scars without first Wounds

Got a good report from the ENT (Ear Doctor) today. Apparently the clicking and popping noises in my right ear are due to an Eustachian tube that does not open all the way. A simple prescription with Flonase will hopefully alleviate the problem. Actually the noises are more annoying than anything else. The ear is not painful.

Eternal Internal Chaos

Being Cut. Wounds produce scars. Sometimes Life rips the scabs off the scars before the wound has healed. Infection. Pus. Filthy. Gangrenous. Foul Smelling. The Book of Job Revisited. An open pestilence of the soul forms. While others judge never fully knowing internal battles. Turn and face your demons but remember they are armed also. She who fights and runs away may live to fight another day. The devil and his/her demons come in many forms awaiting your vulnerabilities. Your weaknesses so they can rip our your heart. Eviscerate your innards.

Rejoicing. Laughing. Watching your guts litter the battlefield which has become your graveyard. So you run. You hide and wait for Resurrection and Rebirth. You Lurk among squalid corners. Slink close to the walls like rats who relish the dark afraid to come out in the open but secretly ready. Planning your Vengeance. This time there will be No Negotiation. Oh Attacker! You programmed me well. I now know and embody all your devious devil devices. Your imprint is on my mind. Now I use your weapons against you!! Beware O’ Wicked One! The Victim has now become the Victor!!

Slammed down into the red brick earth. Enemy not knowing that you can sustenance and strength each time you hit the ground. Earth Mother receives your bloody wounded corpse. Sends animation Life Force through your firmly planted feet. There. A Baobab Tree. A Mighty Oak. A Banyan Tree. Close ranks around you. Gaia protects her children. Filling a Fallen Sister with Kinetic Force. Ready to do Battle. The Enemy lies defeated before he has yet begun. Yes. Even the Forest Must have it’s Revenge.

So now I’m back to my Royally, Bitchy, Crazy, Raunchy self. Mean and Gritty. Getting down in the City.

Earned my Advanced degrees in Chill Out and Chillaxin’ ~~ Not caring what people say or their reactions. If you don’t want to go along for the ride. Don’t get in the car.

Bitch Mode is now in effect……….. Back to Our irregularly scheduled programming!!

Soldier Survivor!! Woman Warrior!! Resistance Fighter!!

Using Her Blasts of Power Surges aka Hot Flashes as Weapons of Warfare!! Mass Destruction to idiots, fools, morons and all those who get in my way….. Talk to the Hand, cause the Face ain’t Listening!

Sade – Soldier of Love

Are Self-Exploding Beings inwardly Imploding?

On December 6, 2015December 12, 2015 By dancingpalmtreesIn 1%, Activist, America, Blood, cacophony, Cadaver, Creativity, Creator, Crushed, Darkness, Darwin Award, Death, DeBorah, DeBorah Ann Palmer, deception, Decomposing, Deliverance, despair, Detour, Dissonance, Dung heap, Embalming fluid, Empty Kingdoms, Evil, Explore, false profits, False Prophets, Fears, Gangrenous wound, Gory, hatred, horror, Hypnotize, Hypocrites, Infantile prattle, Innovation, Inquisitive, Isis, Koyaanisqatsi, Limbo, maggots, Memories, Memory, Museum, Nightmares, Outhouse, Pakistan, Poems, Poetry, Prisoners, profane, Revolution, Rivers, Sacred, Scorn, sorrow, Sword, Sympathy, Wicked5 Comments

Are the self-exploding inwardly imploding?

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.

http://www.theguardian.com/artanddesign/2014/nov/23/imran-qureshi-ikon-gallery-birmingham-review-hauntingly-beautiful

http://www.artspace.com/imran_qureshi

All Photos are the artwork of Imran Qureshi

The Daily Post’s Writing Prompt: “Tattoo……..You?”

On August 5, 2015 By dancingpalmtreesIn Black Panther, Dominatrix, Edward Palmer, Hello Kitty, Mable Elizabeth Palmer, Piercing, Project Semicolon, Tattoos6 Comments

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Tattoo….You?.”

Do you have a tattoo? If so, what’s the story behind your ink? If you don’t have a tattoo, what might you consider getting emblazoned on you skin?

Number of Tattoos on my body. Let’s see so far 9 and counting. I plan to get another one soon. Two devious demented Hello Kitties (One is a Dominatrix), tramp stamp (really hate that name), a dolphin, my Mom’s name Mable on my left arm, a Cross and me and my Dad’s image on my right arm, a Black Panther on my back. After my parents died I wanted to honor them so I got tattoos in their memory. No I’d never tattoo a boyfriend’s name on me because those are temporary relationships.

I plan to get a Semi-colon on my right arm because my story is not yet over.

Project Semicolon

http://www.projectsemicolon.com/

I really Love Tattoos but I will never tattoo my boobs, hands, neck or face. Why tattoo boobs when in a few years they will be sagging lower than some of these kids pants and as for exposed body parts, well to be honest I need my job and they stipulate that our uniforms must cover all tattoos. I will also NOT autograph the junk in my trunk because that too will also succumb to the ravages of time and gravity.

Piercings are cool as long as don’t have so many that you set off metal detectors from two blocks away! My ears and belly button are done. Thinking of getting a small nose piercing. As for the naughty parts I really don’t see the logic in having non-stop orgasms. I prefer to sing opera with a handsome Chocolate brother in the privacy of the bedroom not 24/7/365!

I will continue to decorate my body temple as long as my skin canvas remains smooth and supple!

Dedicated Inkster@sexysenior

Vermillion

On June 19, 2015 By dancingpalmtreesIn African American Queen, Blue, boils, Brilliant, Chalice, Chasuble, Crimson, Dung heap, Empress, Flesh, Pockmarked, Prisoners, Purple, Robes, Ruby Red, Scorn, spittle, Stigmata, Sword, Twilight, Vermillion, Vivid, Wailing4 Comments

Vermillion

Chasuble and Chalice
Shall hold forth no malice
until that great day when the dragon lies
slain by his excellent silver sword.

Cries for help often go unanswered
condemning lost souls to the noisy desperation of
unmarked graves.

T’is useless to summon the gods of war
as other battles take precedence

Yours is a wailing that echoes throughout time
over the crooks and valleys of a deserted land
waiting for a legion that shall never arrive

Prisoners paraded boils and pockmarked stigmata
marching towards the land of Shades
Neither in this world or fully in the next one.

Twilight evermore………………

I fell upon my sweet sweet sword when I heard the dirge
emerge.

Once I was a Queen my brilliant vivid ruby red velvet purple blue
robes now tattered with scorn…

Now Empress of the dung heap. A loathsome swollen twisted
disfigured mass of fuming flesh aching for renewal while
another round of spittle hits the mark

Badly mangled I creep towards a salvation always just out of reach.

Crimson runs rampant along it’s craggy shores.

Illusion of the Oasis

On June 15, 2015 By dancingpalmtreesIn Abraham, Crumbs, Gods, Illusion of the Oasis, Isle of the Damned, Lost Souls, Nectar, Paradise, Poor, Rich, soul

The rich spit upon the poor
telling them it is nectar from the gods.
Downtrodden souls gather at the feast
waiting for crumbs that are snatched away
from their outstretched hands mid-grasp.
Turned away from the billionaire festival
we can only gaze with hungry eyes
and swollen bellies
never to know paradise
until gathered to Abraham’s bosom.