Toss Ups among Jitterbugging Japes

Toss ups among Jitterbugging Japes

A PASTOR? OMG what a dirt bag. He drinks booze, probably smokes dope, lives in sin with a woman who isn’t his wife. For regular people NOT in the thug life, in order to murder someone in cold blood, you gotta be on some kinda high octane drugs that give courage required to follow through with heinous acts of vengeance filled violence. And don’t get me started on his skanky wife.  Down in the Lower Level we call her a ‘toss up’, ya know some female who throws her legs up in the air, and doesn’t care whose bed they land in. These days’ pew warmers can be some of the MOST amoral people around. Cold blooded Son of a Bitch. Need another shower after watching and listening to this sadistic drivel.



She shall bear fruit in the time of seed not in the time of man.

I’m shaking like a tree in a hurricane.

Cynthia and Jerry got a message for Harry.


Mungo Jerry


Charnel House Wikipedia
Charnel House

We were enveloped in the sweet Smokey darkness of a sultry summer night. Taking nocturnal strolls over graveyards filled with the illicit offspring of priests and nuns.  Seedlings of the new reforms.  Corpses a series of japes littering the landscape with embryonic fantasy dreams. A Feast of Flesh for maggots and worms.  Chaos and terror. Blood everywhere.  Odor of lingering 12 day ferment piss hang languishing in the stagnant atmosphere.

Leave no ghost upturned for there are barnacles affixed to near Charnel House ringed with concertina wire.

I see voices on the trench bottom questioning me on ways of escape.  I find myself sinking in quicksand people with their backs to me on the periphery.

Soils of different waters tell eat and drink stories whilst jettisoned troubadours poison their listeners with liquid gold.

Svengalis’ in full regalia present alien babies ready for baptism.

My apocalypse is the squalor of an unkempt mind.







Minions Blood dice
Minions Blood dice

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

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.

Copyright DeBorah Ann Palmer 2015

The Daily Prompt ~~ “The whole family had been cursed since…”

The Daily Prompt ~~ The Whole Family had been cursed since….

Chia Zombie
Chia Zombie

The whole family had been cursed since…”

The whole family had been cursed since twin sisters Calista and Cassandra ate the radioactive Chia seeds. Not too long afterwards Chia pets began to take root in their wombs with developing Chia baby monsters growing and getting stronger day by day.

As time passed along with the developing fetuses they began sprouting greenery from their ears, nose, mouth, pores and even their lady parts. Within a scant 6 months both sisters gave birth to baby chia monstrosities.


The townsfolk in their distrust and horror made their way through the bayous, swamps, and bogs teeming with life attempting to chase down and stab, shoot with a silver bullet, hack to death and dismember both Calista and Cassandra along with their respective Chia children.

As this Chia-lite family ran for their lives they deposited Chia seeds into the fertile unconsecrated ground springing up to entangle and strangle the Sheriff, his deputies as well as nearly all the rampaging villagers with their torch lamps and Blast-master 5000’s.

As the moon rose full upon that starry night so did Chia Zombies which ripped fleeing flesh from juicy marrow bones, snapping, popping and crunching with glee over each gory mouthful.

Chia Zombies are not brainless wonders like film or TV zombies not only did they feast upon human flesh but made their way to the local gardeners, hot house, and nature museum where in their zest and haste to grow and be powerful they consumed large amounts of miracle grow and any other type plant food they could find turning themselves into Avenging Green Warriors for Mother Nature stamping all doubters of Global Warming and Climate Change.  The Mother and Twin Reunions also ate enormous amounts of Kudzu, which is the mother of all climbing, coiling, and trailing perennial vines.  This increase their ability to spread unhindered into neighboring towns, villages, and provinces. 

Calista and Cassandra embodying the supremacies and strengths of human and plant life became female oracles declaring the redemptive power of Gaia causing flora and fauna to bow down to the Alfalfa and the Omega………………………………………………………….

Well our family has had bad luck every since with cousins Morton and Milton the next set to endure the curse, but that tale is for another post.  See ya!!

The Old Nags Ball

The Old Nags Ball

Pygmalion and Galatea Auguste Rodin  (French, Paris 1840–1917 Meudon)
Pygmalion and Galatea
Auguste Rodin
(French, Paris 1840–1917 Meudon)

While all the Painted Ponies dance across the floor sipping champagne unable to send laughter through Collagen injected lips at small talk chatter jokes. Solid firm perfectly rounded breasts standing at attention and ready to fire B52 Bombs at slow motion cocktail waiters.  Goddess above and rotted corpse below.  Grandma and grand-daughter are now at competing odds.

O! Swing your partner round and round.

The face is tight. The chin is firm. But Oh Lawd Have Mercy the turkey neck swings. Her boobs jut out like missile beams. The Old Nag’s body betrays her incisions. Carefully wrought needlework now all a tangle. Who but Satan would want to wrangle?  The Old Nag’s Body has come undone!

Restylane, Botox, Liquid Face-lift #3 ~ Kabuki masque woman no expression has she!  Doused with fillers until surgery!

Spin that syringe round and round.  Whomever it points to is next to be bound!

Money filled piñatas burst open over raised hands plastic surgeons and diet doctors worldwide. Yammering flesh sculptors fancy themselves modern day Pygmalions smooth talking road map lined youth fetish chasers into believing they will be ivory sleek Galateas.   Focusing on fixing the exterior phony faces while the interior soul rots from within.  Their parties continued unabated until cruel Fate Atropos cuts the thread of life, their final preservative embalming fluid.  The Players got played and are kicked off Life’s fancy stage.

Is Youth the Ultimate Deception?

Will we stand still forever at Ill-fated Gate #27?  Last call for Charon’s Crossing!!  Amy Winehouse, Jean-Michel Basquiat, Jimi Hendrix, Brian Jones, Janis Joplin, Jim Morrison, Kurt Cobain all Members of the 27 Club.  Forever frozen in their prime. Forever frozen in time.  Never to join the Council of Elders.

Do we yearn to be like them only gifted with Eternal Life?  Let’s not join that grisly club.  Dermal fillers promise to make us Benjamin Buttons with the ability to leap backwards and time travel to a long gone youth. Fountains of Youth which flowed from springs now dead once beckon us Modern day Crusaders to pay homage to the Altar of Articol, Sculptra | Radiesse.  Plastic surgeons are Merlin Magician High Priests of the Well Preserved. Like Jams & Jellies. Fruits & veggies we are well kept Mason Jars filled with embalming fluids and waxen countenance awaiting Judgement Day.


Beautiful Deception


Death Angel

Requiem for Bertie

Requiem for Bertie

Angel of Death
Angel of Death

A walking cadaver feasting yet never full.  Hollow sunken cheeks. Fetid breath.  Mortuary bones clacking like castanets signal a dirge for a being hanging onto life yet bound for the grave. More specter than man. A rambling absurdity. Vultures patiently await thy final fall. Ye reek of the morgue. Thy entire body festers as a gangrenous wound.  He beckons! He beckons! Rub him down with frankincense and myrrh!   Ready thy flesh for winding sheet and cooling board. Turn back all covered mirrors!  Face thy head to the North Star. Every road ye tread leads to the crypt. Thy Tomb awaits thee and bids thee step in.

Island of the Damned -- Bocklin
Island of the Damned by Bocklin

The smell of death accompanies thy uprising and approach.  A stench emanating from thy despoiled core lingers in every room.  Onlookers vainly swing their heads in disgust trying to dislodge tastes of putrid flesh invading their tongues. Youth and health have been dispersed to the gale like leaves whipped by the windstorm then fallen to soil. Leaves decomposing returning to the earth from whence they came.  No potions, brews or concoctions from Ye Olde Apothecary Shoppe can save thee now. Threescore and ten shall not be thine for the Fates are poised to cut life’s cord.

The Pale Horseman rides for thee. This night thy soul is required.  Ferry passage has been booked and Charon awaits you dockside for thy journey across the River Styx.  Once shiny obsidian bursting with life now ye become dusty white-grey urn ashes.  A tree that once stood tall in the forest has fallen never to rise again.  Strong saplings are pine boxes for many Potters Fields.

Once to the bazaar now to the funeral.  Maggot courtiers await the beck and call of thy rotted corpse. Hypnos wicked opium dram shall deliver thy harvest ready soul gathered unto Thanatos sickle and scythe.  Journeys fueled by alcohol, cigarettes and sugar end much too soon. Yonder cemetery will be thy new home.