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Archive for June, 2011


Lady Lynda Finds Her Niche

Lady Lynda forlornly thought of how she missed lecturing the young women of the charm school for wayward girls. She felt a tinge of melancholy thinking of how her learned words of wisdom would never be heard by those dear grateful young men of Mr. Pequots Reform School for Dastardly Bastards. She sighed as she pondered how her male charges , how some of them would always be bastards in the literal sense but they were now dastardly no more. Conversely the girls were now refined young women. Both grads were ready to take their place in the civilized world. She turned those bestial boys into if not perfect gentlemen, ready to be in polite society. It was a dim chance that the female students would ignorantly blather away at vulgar nonsense. Lady Lynda felt a warm feeling in the cockles of her heart. Her mood was decidedly blithe as she reflected on how her woman friend and her dramatically changed such unfortunate wretch's lives so significantly for the better.

Auntie Carol's faithful colleague was feeling a sense of emptiness in her life. Yes the student of both schools could get a bit unruly she admitted to herself. She recalled bemusedly the time when...The woman reluctantly remembered how it was a challenge to to put it mildly to gain their respect. It was like getting a Kosher Rabbi to eat a Ham and Cheese sandwich. In a way she couldn't blame them as she tried to see how she and Auntie Carol were initially perceived from their perspective. Two dowdy fuddy duddy middle aged woman who if the girl's vocabulary was sophisticated enough would of seen them as dowagers. Yet from her perspective, she was a lady and a sophisticated, cultured one at that.

Now it was up to her to somehow fill the void in her life. Yes there was of course Seymour but he was busy with his day job as a shoe salesman and pedicurist at the "Into Leather" shoe store. Plus his moonlighting as a freelance fashion photographer who specialized in taking photos of women in open toed spiked or stiletto heels. The woman reflecting back on her time with her students came to the conclusion that lecturing was her forte.

It was what she did best. Her time giving talks to the students of both of the schools proved that. She fondly recalled how they listened intensely to what ever she told them. Why else would they listen so closely? Perish the thought there could ever be any other explanation. It was like they were barbarous hordes before they slowly became civilized thanks to them listening to Auntie Carol and her gently guide, and sometimes when needed, chide them into how to behave in civilized society.

No more would they, especially the boys be baneful threats to society. Instead they would know their place and instead of looking bedraggled they would be the epitomy of ladylike and gentlemanly deportment. They would be belligerent no more. In place of belligerence there would be true respect for societal mores.

Lady Lynda lamented the times when she her colleague in arms, Auntie Carol experienced tough times trying to get through to the ruffians in each of the schools. She reflected how beleagered she was as she tried to teach them proper etiquette. Yet despite the troubles , eventually she and her partner did bequeath upon them the essential manners for polite society. Looking back Lady Lynda thought, bemused that if she can make these swaggering braggarts become civilized than she could do for virtually everybody. She found her niche. Her mission would be to lecture on the importance of proper manners.

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It was Monday and raining like a Biblical plague. This was the first day Auntie Carol and Lady Lynda would be alone with their proteges, Las Cabronas. Some of the girls even brought in their own babies for lack of a more suitable arrangement. Lady Lynda noticed that Auntie Carol was not her usual buoyant self.

"Don't look so crestfallen, dear," she intoned, "Rome was not built in a day."

"Don't I know it. Don't I know it," Auntie Carol replied. "It's just that all of them are so hardened and so young. It's a case of welchschmerz, world weariness. How can we instill in them faith, hope and charity?"

"I think, dear the lillies have been quilded," replied Lady Lynda."They're whores, thieves, drug dealers and worse. I daresay, they won't get into heaven."

"Darling," said Auntie Carol, "heaven would bore them. They have been brought up to believe they are trash. Cheap, expendable and worthless. So they put on this hardened facade. But it's only a facade. They are the walking wounded."

"Don't I know it," replied Lady Lynda. "To be or not to be, that is the question./ whether tis nobler in mind to suffer/ the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune/ Or take arm against a sea of troubles/ and by opposing end them/"

"Shakespeare, it would appear," said Auntie Carol.

"Dear, you're rhyming again," said Lady Lynda. "Didn't the doctor warn you that is one of the early signs of schizophrenia?"

"Sacre bleu, and heavens, no, I would hope," replied Auntie Carol. "It's a disease with me. Oh woe is me!"

Then the girls began to file in in their micro-mini skirts, and tight, stretch jeans. One girl had a tee shirt emblazoned with the words, "Dick Does the Trick," with a miniature cock to one side of the letters. They wore those huge outrageous ear rings with their names on them. This depressed Auntie Carol as ladies either wore tasteful pearls or precious stones, and not to mention the tatoos of crawling snakes, skeletal heads , spiders and lewd bleeding roses. No, they were not ladies. This was a given.

"Ladies, quit milling around, and be seated," said Auntie Carol.

"There aint no ladies in here, Miz Carol," said Lala, "I'm the Countess of Cock and Balls." And she laughed uproariously.

"Sacre Bleu," intoned Auntie Carol. "I may wash your mouth out with soap. Such vulgarity!"

"You are such a card, Miz Carol," said Lala afectionately. "But I love ya anyway. So old-fashioned!"

"I am not old fashioned," sputtered Auntie Carol. "What was true in my day is still true today. No man wants a foul mouthed, loose tramp!"

"No, Miz Carol. You got it all wrong. No man wants anything but a tramp." laughed Lala. There were catcalls and murmurings and laughter amongst the other girls.

Chickie, Lala's girl, said,
"There aint no virgins around no more after age eleven!"

"There aren't. Aint is not a word." intoned Lady Lynda. "Proper English is the cornerstone of our civilization! Think if Cleopatra was foul mouthed. Would she have risen to such heights and captured the heart of Marc Anthony if she was? Just think about that for a minute!"

Lala laughed, and said,"Cleopatra was a Ho'. She slept her way to the top!" And the whole class exploded in laughter.

"Well," said Lady Lynda, "You're sleeping your way to the bottom. What's true is true for everyone. Do you want to go on having babies out of wedlock, selling drugs, and whoring your young behinds?"

"Duh," said Lala, "Well, yes. We aint got no choice. That's life."

"My dear, " said Lady Lynda, Nothing is written, T. E. Lawrence."

Lala replied, "Oh, hell, yes, it is. Shit to shit and dust to dust. You live: you die. And in between, you fuck and eat! Who the hell you think I am Princess Di?"

"No, darling, if you were Princess Di you'd be a rotting corpse. A little witticism for you," said Lady Lynda.

"Oh, I'm laughing my ass off. Life is fuckin' hard and you got to be hard to survive it!" intoned Lala.

"No being hard is for men,
a little bon mot for you. Oh, heavens, I'm being so racy, A lady should be soft, giving, and nurturing like the Blessed Madonna," said Lady Lynda.

"I'll remember that when Fransisco sticks his dick up my ass. Is that nurturing enough for you, Miz Lynda?"

"Women actually do that?" said Auntie Carol in amazement.

"Well, duh. You two don't know jackshit! said Lala.

"We got to hustle. We got our babies to feed and we have to give the household money to our moms. We want to give our babies more than we ever had. And you aint understand that," said Chickie who was holding her two month old infant. She was a tough looking Latino girls with masses of black hair trailing down her back.

"Let me cut to the chase," said Lady Lynda, "And may I be crude. You're all up shit creek without a paddle unless you change your ways. You're trapped into history repeating itself. Like mother like daughter."

"Lady Lynda, you cursed!"
said Lala incredulously.

Lady Lynda replied. "Drastic measures for drastic times. Unless you get some sort of specialized job and a decent education you are doomed to failure in life. You must act: Use your minds. Get some fortitude and defy destiny. Don't repeat your mother's mistakes and stop being victims of circumstance! Get off your asses and try! The world is hard on whores and drug dealers.It rewards predictiabilty and skill. Neither of which you have right now. You must break the mold to stop the cycle."

"What she just say, Auntie Carol?" asked Lala.

"You must overcome your circumstances through an act of will. Again we have it, dear. Nothing is written and character is destiny. Don't live your mother's lives. Popping the babies out off your wombs and becoming poorer and poorer. Don't be a vessel for any man, a semen collecter, if you will. Be your own woman," exhorted Auntie Carol.

"I fuckin' killed my bastard stepfather. How education gone make that go away," said Lala, close to tears.

Lady Lynda took the girl in her arms and Lala burst into tears.

"Dear," said Lady Lynda in her most comforting voice, "that was not your fault. You were protecting your baby sister the way your mother never protected you. It was a brave thing you did. We know all about it and we are sorry, so sorry. And if you ever need a shoulder to cry own we are both here for you, darling."

"Oh, my heavens, yes," said Auntie Carol. "Remember the movie, Gone With the Wind where Rhett walks out on Scarlet, and she says 'Tomorrow is another day.'"

Lala brightened and said in a low voice, "Tomorrow is another day."

And the sun, at that moment, broke out in glorious yellow rays, and through out the room there was a warm feeling and a quiet peacefulness.
And Dame Destiny sat on her emerald throne and folded her long fingers over her heart.
Written by CAROL ANN Poems of Thunder (Noire & Whimsy) @Amazon & Barnes&Noble & publishamerica.com

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Though our girls were working with Las Cabronas, the Girl’s Gang in the evenings, They were still teaching in the day time at the Pequot School for Dastardly Bastards. One day Francisco, for no seeming reason, asked whom they considered attractive and in unison they retorted, “Rock Hudson.”

“No one current or alive?” inquired Francisco.

“Well, no,” said Auntie Carol, “unless you count Johnny Depp, who is quite comely.”.

“No, my dear,” interjected Lady Lynda, “It’s got to be Joaquin Phoenix.”

“That cross-eyed wonder? Heaven’s no, Lynda dear.”

“He is not cross-eyed and we shall have fisticuffs if you persist in this manner. He’s got beautiful cerlean blue eyes and they are decidedly Not crossed.”

“Alright! Alright!” said Auntie Carol, “If you feel that strongly about it. Is he the one who looks like Peter Lorre?”

“No, dear you are confused, and it won’t be the first time,” said Lady Lynda archly.

Then they both went on to say that there was no one dead or alive who could compare to Rock Hudson. And furthermore he didn’t use his looks to take advantage of love sick girls. Of this fact they were sure. He was a true gentleman and didn’t trifle with women’s tender hearts.

Tyrone shook his head in disbelief and replied that he was gay and died of AIDS.

“Oh, my heavens, no!” said Auntie Carol. “How can that be. I saw him in Pajama Game with Doris Day and he practically sizzled with manly tension. He could scarcely contain his desire to bed her. One cannot fake that!”

“He was the Penultimate Male!” intoned Lady Lynda.

“Yeah, that’s what all the other dudes thought, too,” said Francisco.

Auntie Carol stated that she felt faint and would have to go lie down in the nurse’s station and implored Lady Lynda to run the class alone.

“Of course, dear. Go lie down and rest. You’re no spring chicken any more after all.” Auntie Carol then hobbled out of the room.
Turning toward the class Lady Lynda inquired where they were in Catcher in the Rye and Francisco reminded her that it was where Holden observed his old professor picking his nose and wearing a ratty old robe. She asked what he got out of that and was told that Francisco considered most adults, hypocrites, present company excepted.

“Monkey see: monkey do. They tell us not to do something then turn around and do it themselves. We, the youth, are left to straighten up thier mess. Lookit the War in Iraq and dumping nuclear waste into the ocean. Pardon me for saying this, Miz Lynda, but you don’t shit where you eat!”

“Don’t use vulgarisms, Francissco,” she intoned. “Only ignorant people talk that.”

“Then the authors, Henry Miller, Allen Ginsberg, and D.H. Lawrence must be in that category and what of Shakespeare alluding to ‘cunt’ when speaking of the character, Beatrice.”

“Why aren’t you reading the poets like Yeats, Frost, and Sandburg. Allen Ginsberg is a truly revolting human being as was D.H Lawrence inciting people to be foul mouthed, and wander about in the nude. Shakespeare usually did not swear so once or twice is quite plausible and passable. Read Jane Austen, E.M. Forrester and for poets, Emily Dickinson. Concern yourself not with prurient content masquerading as fine literature!”

“Miz Lynda you lifted my mind out of the slums but I reserve the right to make my own judgments on literature and life. I am grateful to you although I cannot agree,” said Francisco.

“And you’re going into law school, right? I can see where you’d be successful at it,” she said.

“I am and it was you who taught me to think and to reason,Miz Lynda.”

“You tuned me up, too, Miz Lynda,” intoned Tyrone. “Now, I’ll never be in jail like my daddy or drink myself into a stupor like mom. It’s a big world and I want a piece of it! So reap what you have sewn, Miz Lynda.”

“I don’t know whether I’m happy or remoseful,” she replied.

“Life is ‘curiously strange’, isn’t it?” said Francisco.

“Oh, Francisco. You quoted Lewis Carroll from Alice Through the Looking Glass! I’m Thrilled.” said Lady Lynda.

Wait until next Friday. We’re planning a Farewell Party for you and Auntie Carol. You gave us so much and this is our way of saying, ‘back at ya.” said Francisco.

The morning finally arrived through the slow, agonizing, curious Thursday when their minds drifted from their lessons to the anticipation, and joy of Friday. On that day the room was festooned with black and pink balloons and crepe paper streamers. Champagne bottles were carefully hidden in the lower cabinets. On the board Francisco wrote out A.E. Henley’s famous poem, ‘Invictus’.

“Dark is the night that falls upon me/ Black as the pit from pole to pole/ I thank whatever gods may be/ For my inconquerable soul.”

Lady Lynda wore a hot pink business suit with silver strappy shoes while Auntie Carol wore an Ann Taylor Chinese red sheath with black patent leather stilletoes. Scents of Tea Rose and Shalimar emanated from them wafting through the room. A huge three tiered Black forest cake with yellow and red roses sat on a silver serving platter. Lady Lynda’s face blushed pink with pleasure, and Auntie Carol breathed in the bubbles from her champagne and laughed as they popped in her aquiuline nose.

Then a fire Alarm sounded toward the end of the party and a handsome “Rock Hudson” resembling fireman entered and said, “I heard there was something burning in here. Something really hot. And now I see it was you two lovely ladies.”

“Oh, my heavens,” intoned Lady Lynda while Auntie Carol pored some smelling salts into her linen engraved hankerchief.

Gradually he removed his jacket and tight sequined tee shirt revealing a six-pack abdomen, huge pectorals and well muscled arms. And to the tune of “It’s Raining Men”, he danced close up to both of them and when the song ended he tore away his black rubber pants revealing a shiny black speddo and “EVERYTHING” else. Nothing was left to the imagination. This was a truly robust man.

Lady Lynda and Auntie Carol peered shyly and sideways at his private area, and wondered if all men were so well endowed. The thought of sinning in lustful thought without action occurred to them yet they could not take their eyes from that spot and Lady Lynda actually shyly copped a feel as she put a fifty into his speedo.
The boys’ raucous laughter rose up to Our Heavenly Father above.

Lady Lynda and Auntie Carol continued to enjoy their “Rock Hudson” and resolved to make up for this curious moral lapse into lewd thoughts by letting street people sleep on their couches, feeding Big Macs to the starving, homelss people and hosting a number of Girl Scout Meetings. Good deeds cancel out naughty thoughts and deeds in as much as a minus can be turned into a plus in algebra. Anybody knows this.
CAROL ANN, Writer of Poems of Thunder (Noire & whimsy) @ Amazon, Barnes&Noble & publishamerica.com

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Hello darlings. Its me Lady Lynda expounding on my jewelry. A proper lady consistently wears proper jewelry to offset her sophisticated stylish outfits. And I am no exception. I confess many of my necklaces are costume jewelry. You know darlings, just some fun adornments to spruce my somewhat casual outfits up. However there are some pieces that are somewhat a cut above. While they are far from what most people would consider top of line, they are somewhat fancy. I would say some of them are made of semiprecious material. These include amythest, turquoise and cultured pearls. By the way pearls and amber are the only gemstones that are made of biological material as opposed to mineral. Pearls are of course derived from specially cultured oysters and amber is from petrified wood going back as far as the period of dinosaurs. Who despite the views of creationists existed hundreds of millions of years ago.

This next necklace was originally made in Uganda. It was bought in Cherry Hill by my wonderful sister. And that she is. It was originally made by village women in that East African natio. It is very colorful as are the natives there. It is so truly delightful that these dear primitive females can be so creative. It consists of irregular rounded shapes of olive green, crimson and pine green. It’s made up of specially treated lacquered paper. It looks like it was made of wood. Its length is 26 inches. I can’t even begin to imagine the dark continent of Africa with modern buildings, conveniences. Oh that would be impossible. Sacre blu. The lacquered paper sort of reminds me of that wonderful , sentimental poet Vachel Lindsey. Read he swallowed varnish. What a tragedy but I must say such a beautiful finish to such a creative poetic life.

Amythest Bought at a local flea market. As far as I know its real. It certainly looks authentic. It is a beautiful cool purple color. It is 20 inches in length. I felt so proud of myself when I helped that flea market vendor. I am certain that I enriched her day. That feeling warmed my heart. And that’s a feeling that is so much better than heart burn.

Pearls. This was a real find. And I do exactly, literally a find. The fact is I found this piece laying in the street. It is of five irregularly shaped small pearls separated by gold filigree. What it was doing there I can only suppose. It is a strand of real pearls offset with gold between each pearl. Would you know on a different occasion I found a string of pearls that consisted of pears that were ball shaped and a quarter inch in size.

This shells necklace is a fun necklace I bought on the boardwalk in Atlantic City. Oh I certainly hope the store propriator wasn’t playing a shell game on me. I remember it was a few years ago. As the description implies it is of small half inches black and white shells. As far as I can tell they are in teir natural hues. seashells, Native American Turquoise. The middle looks somewhat like a silver belt buckle with a genuine gorgeous turquoise centerpiece. This I wear to religious Jewish services. I wore it to my sister’s Bats Mitzvah earlier in May 2011. She is in her early sixties. Yes she was an adult Bat Mitzvah girl. Finally she is a woman lol. I posted that she was a woman on her Facebook page Seriously I’m proud of her. Golden Star of David, Jewish Star, Mogen David. This I wore to my sibling’s Jewish “Finally I am a woman” celebration.

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Hello, Y'al, this be Wanda Lust, still kickin' and still trickin".She had on a green miniskirt and tight black halter top with golden sparkle stockings and black kicky boots. The tops of her breasts peaked up over the top of her skin tight halter shirt which looped low on her front. "I be a whore and I loves it but it do have a down side you is intelligent enough to intuit. That be an Auntie Carol word and the bitch got me readin' Little Women by Louisa Mae Alcott, and I likes it fine."

"I be here as a special friend like The Black Orchid to Auntie Carol and Lady Lynda. They calls it a charm school but it really be Get Yo' Ass Together School. You headin' down the wrong path fo' sho'. You givin' it out like penny candy hopin' some sumbitch gone give you a house and some babies. He gone give you the babies all right then split and you aint gone git no wedding band. Then you and yo' po' babies gone end up on welfare and ya think $200 a month gone float yo' boat? You gone have to keep poppin' out babies to make it. That when you start sellin' yo' ass and givin' yo' money to some shit talkin' high yella fella' and hopin' he love you. Oh, I done thatĀ also until Ifigure I too tough to give my hard earned money to some fancy bastard. But I pay fo' my freedom," she said pulling up her mini skirt to show a deep cut on her thigh going up to the ass.

"But still, thank the Good Lord. I got me a nice man now, Ol' Fat Harold who love the hell outa me, and not jes' physically. Them other mens got me in the soul and I aint ever be totally free from those times."

"Well, excuse me, Miz Wanda," said Lala, "but we're not whores. We don't take money for sex."

'You puttin' out fo' free and that just stupid. How someone gone respec' you if ya don' respec' yerself?"

"It's love which is something you could never understand," said Lala, and their was a murmur of assent from all the other girls.

"If anyone unnerstand love, it's a Ho, Baby Doll. What ya think, he sixteen and ya' give him good head and he gone up and marry ya? Ya think yo' pussy is a palace of pearls?' said Wanda who roared with laughter.

"You is livin in a fairy tale or some sort of romance novel!"

He says he'll marry me after he completes college," replied Lala.

"So you gone do nothin' in the mean time but waitin' around like a potted plant and livin' off yo' parents. And it look like you got a bun in the oven, hon?" replied Miz Wanda. "And ya thinks you is as interestin' as those rich college girls. Shit, gal, you aint nothin' but a cheap piece of ass."

Toute de suite Lala was at Miz Wanda's neck with a straight blade. The room froze and people heard a pin drop. Lady Lynda casually walked over, and said calmly, "Dear, if you're going to murder someone, it's best to do it in private. Not in front of thirty-eight people. Give me the instrument Lala."

Lala reluctantly gave her the blade and Wanda bitch slapped her so hard an imprint of her hand appeared on Lala's face.

"You think you can fuck wid' me, little girl? Fifteen years on the street has taught me a lot. Yes, I'm a junkie and it aint no way to live but it's all I know. And you gone end up in my shoes, bitch. She again revealed her scar, and said, "Pretty Freddy did that to me cuz I didn't bring in enuff money one night and sent me back into the street bleeding. I OD'd many times and the Good Lord keep bringin' me back like it aint my time yet. You might not be so lucky. He do it because he know in my heart, I aint bad. Now, I got my regulars, freaks and sickos, and I gits paid top dollar and I has their stats, too so they 'fraid to hurt me. Fat Harold want to marry me and make an honest woman of me but the street is in my blood and I like having my own money, The Life be in my blood and I can't help it. Most ho's don't git a good man. A pimp aint nothin' but a shark in an Armani suit and he aint got no real feelin' for any of the girls. At first, the pimp court you, buy you clothes and take you fancy places. Then he put it in yo' head that he in bad trouble and need lots of money and will you "just this once" bail him out by selling yo' ass. After that he just keep on sending ya out and he make you a junkie so's he can control ya in case ya want out. That's The Life, girlie."

Lala replied that Francisco would never do anything like that.

Wanda replied, "Francisco gone find 'nother home girl in college while you is sittin' on your dumb ass waitin' on him. Always, in life, have a back up plan. Get yo' education."

"Why don't you take your own advice, Miz Wanda, said Lala.

"Maybe I be a sex therapist some day down the road. Auntie Carol and Lady Lynda works on my head pretty fierce, sometimes. They tell me like I tell you, 'Nothin' is written.' Now I wants you bitches to treat them with respec' though they is a bit old fashioned. They means well. And learn vocabulary so's you can talk proper and impress people. Nobody like that Spanglish you speak."

Then she emphasized the track marks on her arms and laughed and said, "The Tracks of My Tears," by Smokey Robinson.

CAROL ANN writerof Poems of Thunder (Noir & Whimsey) @Amazon, Barnes&Noble & publishamerica.com

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