Awaiting Ascension Juxtapositions — An Ode to Eden


Are we living breathing time capsules waiting to be opened by future generations?

Alive. Merely existing.

Unquiet extreme desperation for something more but we don’t know what that more is. Blend in. Blend in. Like a Chameleon. Validation mode on.

Fire Salamanders emerge from still hot ashes and charcoal bits whence Paul dipped his hand yet brought back his hand unscathed by neither flames nor poisons.

Creator demands that we be broken down into our Essential Elements.

Are we really primordial primates amphibian reptiles species awaiting Rebirth into the next level of Evolution?

Sentient beings searching for our next form. Next pattern. Next Dimensions, Galaxies and Multiple Universes.

We 20th Century born sat at the feet of our Elders absorbing our family oral traditions. Treasured Griots sharing knowledge, wisdom and understanding.

But how will our 22nd Century descendants interpret the Throwing of our old bones.

Facebook, Twitter, Instagram. Long abandoned Blogs filled with dusty forgotten posts on desiccated lives. Forever seeking release from a wireless tangled Matrix.

Will we stand the test of time?

Or will Haramattan Sirocco winds blown from Pyramids and Sphinx wipe our Talking Heads from the Akashic Records.


Homage to Eden






The Trees are Crying


I made this painting to honor and give tribute to mostly forgotten and ignored caregivers. The Mom whose son has Autism was especially specifically on my mind.

The general public expects us to be strong and stoic. Never asking for help or even admitting that we also have hopes, dreams and desires. Caregivers are seen as some sort of Superhuman Superheroes. Except that Life is not a series of comic book panels where the Hero can regenerate themselves. We get sick and we die.

We die with our Needs unmet and our Voices forever Silenced.


When we’re in trouble there’s nowhere to go and nobody to turn to. Who cares for the Caregivers?always our Voices are lost because no one hears our cries.

Holidays are especially difficult because you’re under pressure to do so much. Expected to do activities that you can no longer do for whatever reason. Abandoned by family, society and government. .


Yet you Learn Silence with a Smile because that’s what is wanted of you. Like a trained seal that balances a rubber ball on its nose in order to get a stingy ration of one thin bony Fish. Now clap then disappear so that the rest of us can continue in undisturbed comfort.


Tears at The Oasis

Surreal Deal Artworks


All my paintings and collages, Except my Witness Trees series which is in progress, are available on Etsy and I’m also offering the option of buying my artwork on a sliding scale prices of between $150 – $550 so that every one has the opportunity to purchase.

Here are some of my favorite artworks.

My kitchen has now become a mini museum gallery. Thanks go out to my housemate Marc B who curates my paintings. He’s got skills!

You can make your purchase through my PayPal account–

Deborah.palmer280@gmail.com


Isolation and Introspection


Isolation and Introspection

The Art of Consolation


Rhysia and TyRhysia

TyRhysia, the implants rickle and stitch said Rhysia as she ran her hands over the pearl size bumps along the side of her face.

Leave them alone Rhysia. They will be removed once we reach homeland base Felinia.

Remember The Ancestor cards yet to be retrieved and activated.

Your uncomfortable internal pearls have a vital role to play in the drama.

But TyRhysia, I want to be a Honeycomb! A Constellation of Honeycombs in the Mouths of Lions.

Hush baby. You will be. You soon will be.

Each of us has a microFantasy to act out.

At which point TyRhysia activated Rhysia sensor pearl cranium implants causing Rhysia to Rhythmically grimple and grackle along the mossy grass fields whilst ejecting spurts of podshoots that ignited into fiery energy bursts.

Deactivating the pearl bead sensors causing Rhysia to collapse into a deep meditative slumber.

Oddly positioned up above in the overhead tree branches which formed a leafy Murphy bed. Lower legs visible occasionally fwipping in and out from celestial island breezes.

Unfolding her massive wings She Who Sees All Gently Hovering Watching over her snoring charge.

.

Ms. Rhysia you’re innocent as charged. For a crossed eyed Dragon sees straight in its Dreams.

.


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


https://dancingpalmtrees.com/2018/01/13/return-of-the-prodigal-daughter-series-two/

Afro Angel Halo Rings

The Masks we all Wear — Left Eye Aflame Afire


Left eye Aflame Afire-- The Masks we all Wear
Afro Angel Halo Rings — Left Eye Aflame Afire

The Spiritual Component of Suffering.

Fasting to gain insight and ultimately relief. Appeasement of a jealous God.

Have you eaten? Are you not afraid that He Who Watches may see yet remain unseen?

Do you know who resides within the Watchtower?

What wandering souls nightly spirits peek out from the Watchtower walls. Eyes searching seeking for inhabitants of small spaces.

Left Eye Aflame Afire. Blurring vision yet powerful innervision. Ability to see inside the minds of All Sentient beings.

💀💀💀💀⚰⚰⚰⚰☠👻👻👻⛪⛪🎨🎨🎨🎨♀️♂️🛐🛐

Death of a Female Saint