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

 

 

Brutal Reality


 

Life can be sobering. Earlier today I saw fire trucks lining the street, EMS, and heard a young woman across the street screaming. Children, teenagers and adults lined the edge of the brownstones steps. The young woman continued to scream. The EMS ran into the house with those heart paddles, then he came back out a short time later putting the life saving devices away. Obviously they were not needed. I knew the person whoever they were had died.  Silence from neighbors except for the young lady who continued to scream.

Eventually someone possibly a family member took her away but I did not see them remove the body. Well a short time ago Medical Examiner/Coroner came and brought out the individual in a body bag. Living in the city death is not a new experience. I remember sometime last year I witnessed the aftermath of a horrible accident where a cyclist was killed when hit when a car and van collided and he was unfortunately in the midst. The collision was so powerful that the entire front grill of the van landed in the middle of the side several feet away. The cops had covered his body but given the amount of people who die on any given day in New York it may take hours before the body is removed.

Some insensitive people were taking photos of the scene. Now as a photographer I draw the line at photographing death, bodies or horrible accidents out of respect for the dead.

My only beef with our American Society is you are not allowed to grieve after the funeral. You are expected to go back to normal. To smile, laugh, and make jokes as though nothing had happened. People give you loads of meaningless platitudes but no compassion nor understanding. Obviously if you’re still working you must return to your job but you can never discuss your feelings or emotions.  The expectation is for you to “Get Over it” despite the fact that your life has changed in an irreversible way.

I’m not one to discuss or share my emotions about the deaths of friends, family members or pets but at least others should respect my right to mourn not expect me to hit the town partying or celebrating certain holidays which they know cause pain.  Since I’ve turned 50 many years ago I’ve seen and been to many funerals. The half century mark is when heart attacks, strokes and cancer begin to claim our loved ones. Some of us get lucky and escape but it does make you stop and think. Can’t say I’m afraid to die. I am afraid of pain. My parents, Aunts and others died terrible painful deaths from cancer and strokes. I do not want that to be my portion. I hope I die in my sleep in my 70s or 80s. Neither of my parents made it to 70 so if I do that will be an accomplishment.

Watching this drama play out I wonder how that person died. Was it murder, suicide, or death by misadventure (accident). My heart and prayers also go out to that young woman who was so devastated. I suppose in a week or two I’ll hear the cries of mourners and maybe see the hearse pass by.  I remember when my parents died the funeral director asked me if I wanted to drive by their house one more time. This gives the deceased a chance to go home if not in the flesh but in spirit one more time. Perhaps this is an African American tradition. I’m not sure.

Then I think about my cousin Bertie (not his real name) who died right before Christmas 2014 at his home alone from cancer. I cried when my other cousin call to tell me of his passing but I had to pull myself together since like me Bertie was single and I had to find his body.  Sounds strange but both Bertie and I lived in the same Brooklyn neighborhood. and when you die alone the police come, the coroner takes your body to the morgue. My mission was to locate which morgue they took him to until his elderly brother arrived from PA to identify the body. The police were very kind and considerate and the officers gave me all the information I needed to locate his body. Eventually I found out he was taken to the Brooklyn morgue. The person who answered the phone said I could come in to make the identification but I held back since he had probably lain dead for a while, decomposing.

Little did I know that Thanksgiving 2014 would be the last time Stephen and I would see Bertie alive. We both knew he was going to die. He was so weak that Stephen and I had a time getting him from New Jersey back to Brooklyn. We took him straight to his door. When we finally made it to our home Stephen did something he rarely does. He put his head on my shoulder and we just held each other. A few weeks later Bertie was dead.

Death is a great reminder that life is short and often brutal. Like my parents used to say Tomorrow is not promised to any of us. Death is the great equalizer that takes the young as well as the old, the poor and the rich. Race, color, religion or nationality mean nothing to death. Whatever plans, purpose, ideas or goals you may have had will go down to the grave with you in dust. Unfinished business. Most likely never to be resurrected again.  You become just a picture in a frame. A distant memory that will be forgotten as time passes. However as a Christian I know my reward lies beyond this moral veil. For then I shall be reunited with all my Loved ones in that Great Getting up Morning in Paradise.

Thomas Dorsey-Take My Hand, Precious Lord

 

 

Future Perspective


 

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/photo-challenges/future/#like-245233

Future

This week, share an image that represents the potential of things to come.

 

Future Travel ~~ One Day will we travel on airstreams and air-rails instead of clanging subways in the dusky dawn?  Will future generations fly to work on Jet powered-energy packs ala The Jetsons?

 

In the Future will Art & Images be downloaded into our brains as in The Matrix?  Will holograms be then projected from the Mind’s Eye?  By concentrating my focus on another sentient being shall I then be able to communicate creativity across the universe?  Then shall the Happy City shine forth.

 

 

Mirror. Mirror on the Wall. Show me the Future of the Fairest of All?  What if said Mirror were an anagram parallelogram of Dorian Gray? Able to show both past and future lives all in one glance?  Would you risk a dare to time travel infinite galaxies worlds gone, present and yet to come?

 

And if every word typed was a portal innumerable Futures the winding tape and clickety clack a step into a great unknown.  I suggest an idea and this youthful oracle guides my destiny.  Burn the Blessed Sage. Scatter the Bones. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Return.

 

 

Gary Wright – DreamWeaver Official Video

 

The Matrix – The Oracle

 

Pick up the phone! Pick up the Phone! Your Future is Calling you! Will you answer?

The Matrix Escaping from Work Scene HD

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Fusion Poetry ~~ Epistle to the Daughters of Luna


Epistle to the Daughters of St. Luna

Amethyst and Garnet fusion dance THE TARANTULA NEBULA  whirling and twirling like  untamed dervishes through tentacles of Gordian knots. Together they trip the light fantasia. Bobbling, lolling, bobbing and weaving.  Swaying…. Praying… Homage to the Great Her.  Flowing through the Magellanic Clouds of Joyful Paradise.

30 Doradus begetter of infinite universes.  Stars kiss. Morph. Join forces into exploding orgasms each populating whipping legs of sown seeds.

Eternal moonshine of the flightless mind.

Dripping fine veils of hosiery over endless galaxies.

Ella Fitzgerald – Stella by Starlight

 

Memoirs of an Evening

Sepia toned Duckbill Platypus saddled with plastic implants blonde Double DD barbie doll. Grecian Urn of pale translucent white blue vein skin. All Hail the bright Neon Orange protector goddess. Astro Nose Noise. Brazilian butt jobs. Collagen plumped Lipppeeesss for days on end.

Below Ugly Toe Jam Drama. It jutted out precariously that if one breathed deep and two-stepped succinctly off it would jump into the hairy precipice, down the cliff and into craggy foreboding Temple ores.

The Metronome calls Cadence in accordance with ancient sweet sirens.

Well bred. Well groomed. Varnished White Mares. Striding the pecking order all vying to be Number #1 Trophy Wife.

 

 

Oh Divine One. Light up the Evening with your Glory.

Sarah Vaughan – Stella by Starlight

Pangeia


 

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/planet/

 

This is a story-form prose-poem that came to me last night. As with many fellow writers many strange languages come to one in the period between wakefulness and full on sleep.  I have no idea whence this tale is going for it emerged from my inner being.  Enjoy and feel free to comment.

Pangaea_KarlE_Limper Geology Museum

PANGEIA

Pangaea

In the days before the great flood underground tributaries flowed and rose upwards to hydrate the land.  Where no underground tributaries existed rivers voluntarily overflowed their banks irrigating the adjacent crops.

Mother Pangaea graciously gave of her bounty feeding humans, animals, insects and sea creatures alike. None wasted. None were left wanting. None struggled. All bellies of sentient beings were filled.

A type of breadfruit grew plentifully from the overhanging trees. Villagers only had to reach out their bedroom windows or gather the golden ripe fruits which fell upon the ground at dawn to prepare healthy breakfast, mid-morning and lunches for the populace.

During this time of Pangaea all land masses were one joined together by straits, jetties and naturally born earth bridges. Gaia Earth Mother was a prodigious mosaic quilt of interwoven textile prints.

Persons who at this time were known as Ninth Dimension Changelings wore colorful garments of scintillating fabrics which gleamed in the Lunar Sun.

Pangaea_Continental Drift

Their skins were of a royal purple hue.  Ninth Dimension changelings’ distinctive characteristics were extremely long lavender eyelashes with feather extensions from the corner of each eye.  The color of the eye plumes varied among their tribes, shade designating their family coat of arms. Some 9th dimension changelings had tiny diamond third eyes above and below their natural visual orbs.  The eye feathers served dual purposes of adornment and transport.  Diamond, ruby, pearl, amethyst, and other gemmed 3rd eyes assisted in communication with fellow tribal changelings as well as those from other alternate universes. These implanted jewels were internal and external translation devices enabling ninth universe beings to understand and be understood throughout the celestial Diaspora. Shamans and priestesses had golden hued skins with clusters of many color jewels over their right eye or to the side of the left eye.  The High Priestess had the additional

Embellishments of semiprecious stones and crystals embedded into her chest region in addition to extra fine purple and blue feathers extended from her top and lower eyelids.  All Her majestic emissaries had spiraling, thick curly multi-colored hair that extended in an outward spherical motion from the heads.  Sacred inscriptions covered their backs, abdomens, arms and legs.

Being Ninth Dimension beings from a higher more realized realm all are Empaths & Telepaths.  Meaning they can sense the feelings, emotions, & thoughts of others then decide whether to communicate via spoken or unspoken languages.  Coming from a highly developed civilization they have the ability to heal others simply by sending healing and the ability to regenerate themselves of any illness or disability that may befall them.

They have the capability to travel through time and space either bodily or sending their doppelganger depending on the mission and circumstance.

They keep cats as pets.  MultiColored Bright Neon Cats.  The cats also have feathered tufts sprouting from their whiskers, ears, and eye lashes.

Suddenly the eccentric became a Banner of nonconformity and non-convention ready to spread Her gospel of healing across the pond if not the land.  Now anointed Shamans in the ecclesiastical of the peculiar.

Ritual, rites, ceremony and sacrament bestowed absolution; gave order to Her chaotic life.

Three SiStar Ninth Dimension Changelings: Pangeia, Merlina, and Samsara.

Valley flowers arose from the dewy mysts producing the most delectable scents and fragrances. Three of the most scrumptious Valley Flowers were the SiStar Changelings Pangeia, Merlina, and Samsara. SiStar Pangeia sprang straight from the heart of Mother Pangaea, Merlina was conceived via magic, and Samsara was the gift of the eternities.

Often they danced the Labyrinth, seeding the fields playfully chanting,

“Three Girls. Bouncy curls. Girlhood wanes so quickly. Raven, Red and Golden Brown.”

Daughter Pangeia gently pushed forward her winged Pegasus Unicorn Mare who with a gentle whinny and shake of her magnificent mane slowly lifted upwards allowing Daughter Pangeia to survey local territories and city-states in preparation for the eight year Mandala pilgrimage. The pilgrimage allowed all the inhabitants of Pangaea to co-exist in peace for epochs.  In the eighth year of harvest season townsfolk and villagers traveled great distances to gather at Mandala to dance the Labyrinth and to give Thanks to the Goddess for her limitless bounty.

One day whilst Daughter Pangeia was scanning the land for a suitable place to hold the Mandala celebratory ceremony a huge comet felled the skies striking one large river making it two. River good. River evil. River evil was an optic delusion designed to lure unsuspecting travelers with the appearance of clear crystal lakes suitable to drink from but turned out to be quicksand bogs causing many lost lives.

This greatly troubled Daughter Pangeia. She immediately flew to the mountain chambers where she and her SiStars resided for council.

After relating all that she had observed Daughter Pangeia sat together in the established Divine Cosmic Circle held hands during which Samsara communed with the spirit worlds receiving instruction.

Samsara

“Once I was baptized by hieroglyphics and clear cave markings. Mother Pangaea tattoos now imprinted on feeble minds. Blood red raindrops on wet sand. Sulphur burn odor twitched many sensitive nostrils.  Many incarnations are we! Many incarnations are we!  We make our homes Divine Temples.”