An Abandoned Prayer

An Abandoned Prayer

Like a Prayer abandoned on the Street. Entangled in bristles, thistles and Thorns. Tassles of Arteries and veins held together with dirt, clay and determination.

Hunchbacks of soil encase S-shaped spine. Skewers of sticks, rocks and Bones pierce my sides.

Roots pulled violently from the Earth yet not pulled apart. Therein lies my hidden strength. Palatine Realms are found in Dead Doorways.

Muscles and sinews exposed to unfamiliar daylight.

Souls came with me as I was ripped from my terrestrial womb. Eruptions of long gone Voices suddenly displaced from home. Not so Silent surrender. Songs and Dreams dispersed floating driftfully seeking sanctuary.

Head bent forward. Seated alone while being ignored by passersby.

Will I become sawdust or mulch washed away by the rain. The Valued parts of me became a plank, a board, an Artist Table.

Am I not as good as those housed in white walled sepulchres?

Then came one who saw my deeply entrenched Holy Beauty.

She who with loving rituals committed my energy to time and eternity. My Memory lives on Thanks to Her. Cosmic Travel lives on.

I see you She said. I see the authentic natural real you.






I FELL into sleep becoming asleep eventually landing elsewhere.


Was it a parallel universe or an alternate reality?

I astral planed across the Multiverse dropping pieces of me wherever I landed.

The pieces planted took root and grew. Spreading myself throughout the Cosmos.

Everywhere is a seedling and a pod. Each pod is ready to be launched into dimensions and seasons yet to be born..

I drank the psychedelic brew. My innards erupted like a brewing thundering threatening volcano.  Explosion of volcanic ash and lava vomiting up brains, burning acids, guts and false notions. Distance tore through my cerebral cortex.

My stone heart turned flesh.  The sky, earth and seas faded away.  Sounds of sand animals,grass, birds, trees, grew silent.  Only my internal vibrations grew louder.

Drifting above the clouds I finally landed in what appeared to be a garage.  No cars. No trucks. No buses.  In fact no vehicles of any type, make or model.

Then I felt the thunder inside my bones.  I projectile spewed poisonous bile filled with scorpions, snakes and vultures.

Every piece of scar tissue on my broken body began to stretch and contort. Tendrils of brightly colored misty fog danced around me chanting in faint tongues.  Seconds, minutes, hours once fleeting gestures became stop motion audibles available only to me.

Two sets of hands one from the sky canopy the other set bursting from the earth zones grabbed and twisted me violently jerking my joints snapping my bones.

Visions melted before my eyes.  My extremities disconnected from my torso turning to mist and fog.  Spun silk swaddled me from birth to winding sheet.


Three sets of Gossamer wings sprouted from my back, shoulders and waist.  Like a human cannon ball I exploded into tiny kaleidoscope pieces of gems and jewels.


Vaulting  from the atmosphere my body careened around corners narrowly missing those ancient Pearly Gates picking up speed like a runaway freight train derailed from its course I will Live forever transcending logic.  Into new and mysterious truths.


Dreams and visions diffuse through my being.  Suffusing internal osmosis.   Breaking apart chaos.  Through synchronicity I was birthed into a trans-mortal being defying gravity, time and space.  Infused with crystal clear definition.

The Rain-forest applauded me.

For I am the Visionary.  The Seer.  The Oracle.


Female Flapper Flaneur of the Harlem Renaissance

In my dreams I am a Lady Flâneur with camera.  My name Sophronia The Famous Female Flapper Flâneur of the Harlem Renaissance. Little known lost Twin Flame and alter ego of my Grandmother  EVA SOPHRONIA GORDON PALMER.

Take my picture in Flapper Finery and transport me back to the Roaring Twenties.

I would be in the Salon of the day hobnobbing with Zora Neale Hurston, Langston Hughes, Jacob Lawrence, Romare Bearden, Augusta Savage, Elizabeth Catlett, and Dorothy West. My photograph would be taken by the famous Black photographer James Van Der Zee. 

Every week would be infamously dyed a different shade of Red. Cherry Crush, Vampire Red, Rose Red, Flaming Electric Lava Red, Passion Red all to match my Fiery personality.  A Great Beauty like my Aunt Thelma Palmer Varner.

Aunt Thelma circa 1940s or 50s
Thelma Rosalie Palmer Varner


I’d Charleston and Lindy Hop across 125th Street. Why Yes I’d be a Name. I’d be a Personality.  Pizzazz in a Petite Package.  Bohemian. Footloose and Fancy Free. Carefree with no worries.  



I’d be a Jazz Baby with the likes of Duke Ellington. Singers such as Bessie Smith and Billie Holiday,  Jelly Roll Morton, Fats Waller and Louis Armstrong.

Holding court in Mt. Morris Park armed with my Eastman Kodak Brownie there to see and be seen capturing every day Harlemites and Glorious Black Culture.  Moving easily and seamless between the 20th and 21st Centuries as the First Time Traveling Female Flâneur.  Racing forward in time for a day at Rockaway Playland with a same day trip to Coney Island. No boundaries. Nothing to hold me back. I’d Fly Free as as a Winged Spirit beyond dimensions laughing through eternity.  A wiggle of the nose. A tug on the ear. Three 3 clicks of my red patent leather shoes and in milliseconds there I’d be on yet another Fabulous Adventure!!  ❤   ❤

Imagination and Day Dreams can take you places where reality does not permit you to go. Fantasy…………..Happiness…………..






Soon a Return to Caturday!



A Great Book. Definitely a Five 5 Star Read.



Penguin Books

June 1, 2001

336 pages

Drawing together many histories-of anatomical evolution and city design, of treadmills and labyrinths, of walking clubs and sexual mores-Rebecca Solnit creates a fascinating portrait of the range of possibilities presented by walking.

Arguing that the history of walking includes walking for pleasure as well as for political, aesthetic, and social meaning, Solnit focuses on the walkers whose everyday and extreme acts have shaped our culture, from philosophers to poets to mountaineers.

She profiles some of the most significant walkers in history and fiction-from Wordsworth to Gary Snyder, from Jane Austen’s Elizabeth Bennet to Andre Breton’s Nadja-finding a profound relationship between walking and thinking and walking and culture. Solnit argues for the necessity of preserving the time and space in which to walk in our ever more car-dependent and accelerated world.







The Prodigal Daughter Returns


The Prodigal Daughter Returns

Back By Popular Demand!!

The Sassy Sexy Irreverent One has made her way back to the Writing Blogosphere after a very brief hiatus!!

Still suffering the slings and arrows of outrageous misfortune despite all ills, aches and pains the Queen has made her way back to her Throne!!  In the guise of Blue Spider Woman and with extra assistance from the Nubian Ninja D-Nice is back in the House!! Three Cheers for her Ladyship!! Hip! Hip! Hooray!!

Blue Spidey Lady



Me in 1961

It’s Quitting Time!


When I was a child there was a program called the Wide World of Sports. A Man’s Voice transposed over a series of sports videos announced the Thrill of Victory and The Agony of Defeat.  Well I have come to and must admit to the Agony of Defeat.

I am not the strong woman who I used to be and others might think that I am. My Life in particular my health is totally Out of Order and I’m Not Okay nor is my situation likely to get better.

First of all I want to Thank the 3,318 Followers/Subscribers who have stuck with me over the last six years.

As some of you who have been following my blog for the last four or five years might know sometimes I’ve alluded to my health challenges. I try not to dwell on my health challenges because I don’t want my blog to turn into one giant sob story.  You’ve been with me during my attempts to better my overall health and perhaps heal certain conditions in my body. You’ve read about me changing my lifestyle, trying to improve my diet within the restraints of my budget, trips to the health food store, my limited time at the gym until my right knee gave out, my Soulful Struts (walking exercises) which have now come to an end, going with my Japanese Buddhist girlfriend to her temple in the hopes that mediation and/or mindfulness would help me (Nope, I’m way too hyper), Bible Studies, etc….

However now it is not just extreme joint pain but I’m also having difficulty breathing, going up and down stairs is torture, bending, walking, etc… is bodily punishment. Chronic pain along with chronic insomnia is not something I’d wish on my worst enemy. Plus problems with my vision still persist.

I can hear the voices saying I should go to the doctor. Been there. Done that. In fact since I had my stroke in Nov. 2008 I’ve been to the doctor and hospitalized over two dozen times. Nothing helps. In fact some of the medications they gave me in the past made things worse.  Another negative factor has risen it’s ugly head. Cost. The prices for co-pays have doubled and in some cases tripled. Now I don’t even make $35K a year in a city where you need to make $70K to live comfortably. So if I must choose between going to the doctor or eating, paying my rent, utilities and transportation well the doctor loses.

Somebody else chimes in well DeBorah you are a Veteran why don’t you go to the VA Hospital? Well if you live anywhere in the U.S.A. you know that the VA hospitals have the worst reputation in the entire country. You either go on a very long waiting list, never get seen and die or they misdiagnose you and you die. Either way you die.

Basically health care in America is for the very rich and the very poor. Nothing for the working class.  People who are married or have some family support can fair better during illness. I have neither. I’m forced to admit failure and defeat. Not a pretty picture but I’m a Realist.

Anyway I said all that to say this; More than likely I probably won’t be adding much to this blog. It will go into limbo because I don’t have the strength to keep it up. All Good things must come to an end. At first I thought about deleting it altogether but decided against that since I have some wonderful poetry, stories and commentaries going back six years.

It’s been a good run and thanks for the encouragement, support and memories. I might make an appearance from time to time but those will be brief, far, few and rare.

However I’ve decided to focus completely on my photography blog Roaming Urban Gypsy:

You can find me there.

I’ve Closed Comments for this post as there is nothing else to say and I do not wish to respond to any comments.