Spun Golden Woven Fibers of Fate

On December 29, 2014 By dancingpalmtreesIn Absolution, Atoms, Borg Queen, Butternut Pancakes, Coastlines, Dreams, Dungeons, Genetic Memory, Harlots, Jigsaw, Madame Sultan, Molecules, Panorama, Perpetuity, Recollections, Reminiscences, Sand Castles, Scalawags, Scamps, Silt, Squash2 Comments

Spun Golden Woven Fibers of Fate

Mother was held in a panorama spun by coveted lovers, who were harlots through celibacy. Invasion of the Body Snatchers whilst the Queen Borg keys jangling at her side hovers and wanders abandoned cells. Caught up in super glue strong web awaiting sacrifice to whatever gods may brought forth. Brain septic by glowering imps sowing discord and muddle.

Reminiscences dance in the fog of false recollections. New realities dawn upon hazy cloudy dew kissed shores. Sand castles washed away by strong willed breakers. Molecules and atoms dripping essence along rosy silt coastlines. Scamps and scalawags populating geographical dungeons.

With this confession my Mother’s Soul residing within me is at rest. She rages no more, her anguish has been extinguished.

My mother and I share broken lives, shattered in similar places we cut ourselves on shards of pain, our fractured lives seeking to mend.

Madame Sultan with no edit button or filters to gauge this new animation wondering where to fit in. Butternut pancakes with a side order of Squash.

Now I attempt to retrieve the scattered pieces, seeking to restore the scattered jigsaw puzzle of Isis, long in disarray, bent and twisted from misuse, abuse and false accusations. Fraying the edges making impossible even imperfect fits.

Sitting across from her flesh & blood ghost, linking hands we grant each other absolution long sought from others outside our circle but only possible for us, from us. I am she and she is me into perpetuity.

Trickster Robes of Decayed Bones

On November 22, 2014 By dancingpalmtreesIn Bogus, cacophony, Christianity, church, Faith, Fakers, Fallen Angels, false profits, False Prophets, Fantasy, Flock, Jesus, Perfumed Robes, Sepulchers, Tongues8 Comments

Only bowing to the King of Kings and Our Lord of Lords never kneeling to False Prophets aka false profits, whited sepulchers walking dead mens’ bones filling their coffers through vice and trickery. I eternally serve the One who died for me! All the rest are greed filled knaves and fools bilking desperate hearts in need. Spreading a blasphemous Gospel of Greed.

Staining the House of God from within and without. Lord Jesus Mighty Conquering comes riding upon the Black Horse of Justice swiftly dispatching all who besmirch his Holy name.

Fakers. Wearers of many faces leaping forth with slithering tongues. Cacophony of fabricated hopes and bogus promises. Backward collars. Backward minds. Trickster preachers wearing perfumed fine robes covering rotting flesh and decayed bones. Strutting. Posturing, Pontificating Piped Pipers leading the Flock astray. I never knew you. Never again will you be permitted to utter profanities on sacred ground. Be gone into everlasting oblivion you counterfeiters of Truth.

Amistad

On October 31, 2014March 2, 2015 By dancingpalmtreesIn Africa, African Goddess, African King, Amistad, Creator, Egypt, Ethiopian Goddess, Menelik, Seed, Slave ship, Solomon, Songs of Solomon & Sheba, womb10 Comments

Amistad

One day while on deck we Jumped, You and I.

Across Oceans.

Over the Seven Seas.

Towards Freedom.

The fluttering’s within led us to know that………….
No Womb Child of Ours would serve foreign masters in a strange land.
Now we Two Lovers are sealed in an Eternal Embrace wrapped around Eons.
Our sacred bones have become Undersea chapels where Ocean denizens worship daily.

They swim through our frameworks paying homage via weaving seaweed, decorating our frames with diatoms and Ocean sea grasses as adornments for our Holy Cathedrals.

Phytoplankton, kelp and algae melodically bow in reverence and awe to displaced ancestors who chose to answer that yearning for the Motherland by throwing off heavy corporal prisons and keepers that sought to bind them to an unfamiliar future in the bosom of a generation who had forsaken the Creator.

Releasing our souls to the Originator we whisked through the briny deep where our son Menelik was reborn as Ethiopian Royalty.

For we knew that the People could Fly……. the Twin Queens of Ethiopia and Egypt shall rise again to Reign once more.

Kali and Ishtar Join Forces

On October 25, 2014 By dancingpalmtreesIn African Goddess, Arrows, Battle, Fallen Angels, Fire, Flames, Ishtar, Kali, Nocturnal2 Comments

My Angers are the hot burning coals that will be forged into Diamond hard razor sharp iron steel swords that will slice away at injustice leaving a bloody trail of defeated foes in her wake…..

Time is a Valued Commodity for Roasting Flesh.

Refining Flames cauterize nocturnal imps.

Lapping up their fallen ashes. Sweeping them into the sea…..

Forever dispersed from the Holy Land……

Fiery arrows pierce my side. Words and Phrases Tumble out taking up their battle stations as warriors.

The Workers Leave No Footprints

On July 12, 2014January 18, 2015 By dancingpalmtreesIn Abuse, Acceptance, African American Queen, African Goddess, African King, Bad Breath, Battle, Black Orpheus, Body Odor, Body Snatchers, Borg, Broken Angels, cacophony, Catharsis, Craving, Creativity, DeBorah, deception, Deliverance, Delusions, Dissonance, Dreams, Ethiopian Goddess, Expectations, Explore, Fantasy, Female Divinity, Feminine Divine, Hallucinations, Innovation, Inquisitive, Knowledge, Koyaanisqatsi, Limbo, Loss, Lost Souls, Malevolent, Morpheus, Museum, Negritude, Night Sweats, Nirvana, Oneiroi, Optical illusions, Phantaso, profane, Purgatory, Recovery, Refuge, Rejection, Rescue, Riders on the Storm, Ritual, Sacred, Sanctuary, Scars, soul, Spears, Spider Web, Spinning, Spirit, Spirituality, Stereotypes, Stigmata, Stinky breath, Suffering, Surrealism, Taijhena Mona Lisa Ormand, Thánatos, The Twilight Zone, The Walking Dead, Under belly, Understanding, Unloved, Unwanted, Vision, Visions, War, Wasteland, Wicked, Wisdom, Woman, Zombies4 Comments

Dreams Never Die

Youth said “Dreams Never Die.” Twenty years passed then Recession kicked in. New Realities were born. Twelve hour workdays became the norm.

Like a drowning man Dreams surfaced again and again only to plummet down to the watery deep. All the while knocking at 1% door watching them through one-sided window laugh, play, drink and party with no thought for the ‘Morrow’. We the unseen only imagining free time for our dreams.

Dreams that must wait until Social Security beckons if death does not reach us first. Fore bread, water, warm clothes and a place to live cry louder. Goodnight Sweet Dreams. May you one day resurrect to a New Dawn.

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The Working Poor Leave No Footprints

Surrounded by a plethora of people who seemed to surface like bloated corpses after spring thaw. Worker bees we are all meaningless specks of dust being recklessly scattered by blustery winds. Modern day Robber Barons throw battle weary soldiers back into the battle while they sit sipping tea in Ivory Towers. Thirty-seven years a professional, now placating rot breath Sabbath suits long in tooth, visions of Mammy dancing in their heads. Limestone Liver spotted wrinkled bone bags befoul the air with endless demands. Dontcha know Miz Daisy learned to drive herself and the Help all went to the French Rivera.

I am Hagar cast out of my prosperous household, denied by the Master and Mistress I once served. Thrown out of my protectors’ house my Dream-child and I await Our Avenging Angel of Salvation.

My Dreams now dead buried under work obligations, mountains of rules and regulations that I seem to constantly violate just by being. No miracles exist for me. Only years of mindless drudgery ahead. Millennial Overseers govern my every move with their remote control mind games. Freedom lies dormant within my imagination. My brain has been put out to pasture because intelligence is not needed or wanted and creativity has become a sin. Automaton Me clad in nondescript dull uniform easily replaceable by the next set of hungry hands yearning for the pence dispensed from the rich mans table. Hey!! Who’s next up on the Auction Block?!! Come lock step into the Plantation Mausoleum filled with objects which are valued more than drones who guard them. We be Aliens in our own Land. Serfs never reaping a hard earned Harvest.

Yet soon a New Day will Dawn, Dreams will bear fruit and Visions be reborn.