Gentle Oracle ~~ Golden Grace



Wild Coily Auburn Crowning Glory soft woolly garlands flowing from and around her face, Gentle Oracle held up her Golden Goblet to gather Honey Glazed Luminescence  which dripped carelessly downward upon the imps, goblins, trolls, and gremlins that gathered round the Gentle Oracle with impatience.  All eager to sip, to lap to imbibe the Glimmer  Elixir that would Disrupt  the stagnation spell which degraded their DNA genetic molecular structure Depleting all that was good within replacing it with ugly Toxic  nature prone to evil and wicked acts upon  Forest Woods Kith and Kin.


It was only during the Rising and Setting  of the Two Moons could the Luminescence be successfully gathered for it was then that the Honey Glazed Gold was at its full power.  Our planet belonging to the LuneXor Solar System had no suns but had Two Moons one Ascending which provided sufficient light and warmth for all living beings and a Descending Moon which guided the night stars giving twinkling bursts of light to the night skies.




It became the mission of Our Luxurious  Radiant  Oracle Goddess to Thwart  the demonic spells of  the Underbeings invaders from a distant dying star who wish to take control of our fertile planes.  Underbeings went from planet to planet, solar system to solar system on the premise of Exploration  but actually seeking to absorb, confuse and contain each planets resources and when those resources were exhausted off they went on another path of destruction.

Initially disguised in a masquerade of peace and prosperity quickly drew in gullible nations who  Frantically  realized too late they had been duped by evil forces warped by blinding light.

They beings of a forgotten wasteland past and we beings with a golden resplendent future. . For we with the wisdom and guidance of our Kind Compassionate Gentle Oracle Goddess possessed the  Talisman  Key to Our Galaxies Akashic records which provided the Words of Life or Soul Realignment properties with the abilities to undo and render useless any forces of or by the Underbeings.  Providing Soul Level Healing.

Our Strong  Uncompromising Gentle Oracle Goddess was the wrinkle  in the devious plans of the Underbeings for She sprinkled the Elixir upon souls already good and inundated souls in error so that even the Underbeings were filled with Well-being, Goodness and Grace.  





The Workers Leave No Footprints

Dreams Never Die

Misty Foggy Morn

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.


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.

Foggy Misty Morn

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.

Evolution of Childhood InterPlanetary Dreams


Evolution of Childhood InterPlanetary Dreams

Underground Railroad

Grandmas Reign Quilt

Eva Sophronia Gordon Palmer -- Grandmother
Eva Sophronia Gordon Palmer — Grandmother

Epoch Heydays beat rhythm time Tempo bringing Glory Days and Golden Age into Earth, Space, time Continuum alignment around my being. Spiritual Discernment begins the convergence of planets, Moon-Womben Star-gazers endlessly birthing heavenly bodies and floating orbs.

Underground Railroad_2

Mother Africa as Creator Goddess singing Reign Blessings upon her children.

My World, the ones I saw in my Grandmother’s Quilt and the ever expanding Galaxies beyond Earth, Sky, Sun and Moon-Daughter Wishes, Hopes and Desires.

Ancient hand stretching finger Ancestor Dimensions reaching forward into time and eternity bringing revelation knowledge of history long past yet made fresh daily.

Troubles beating bloody fists upon my pate.

Belladonna into Nightshades.

Tethered by an unholy umbilical cord to a dead albatross. Dreams deluge.  Green metal Frigidaire Fan blowing air opposite it’s promised heat relief. Stub toe late shift Dad curses Castro and his Convertible. Bucolic heat wave summer in the city. 25 cent Ice Cream salvation dispensed by Mr. Softee. Martha Reeves and her Vandellas gyrating to Dancing in the Streets while kids follow her Piped Pipers.

Kool-Aid libation sugar screams ensue while transistor talking heads Ralph Kiner and Lindsey Nelson called Shea play by plays. Bygone days of Tri-Corn braids.  Fletcher’s Castoria Beef Iron Wine cocktails.   Childhood freedom beckons signalling release from adulthood chain gangs. Teeter-totter bring unbalanced superimposed idealized memories to double-doubted times past. It’s 1964 and my Dixie Peach anointed head snuggles with Panda pillow transcending time once again in the loving arms of Grandma Eva’s patchwork quilt.