Jack Spratt

120703 05:51

So where are we?

I wake up after an hour or two submerged, wherever I go in dreamland, bright eyed and bushy tailed. Like I put my tongue into the electric light socket. Big toe in the toilet. The best part, precious to me still, in another light socket; on a radically modified Christmas Tree cord with another appropriately sized socket and let it rip bro; gone. . .

but arising again

Thomas Alva Edison (another non sleeper) did I tell you why the Garden of Eden is in Ireland?

'no'

Seems when Eve, given virgin birth from Adam, first saw him she said; “Hello O'Toole!” to which he replied grinning now he had a friend to play with replied; “Top o' the morning tee you Oh 'Hare!”

Then God asked Adam, “Do want you want to pee standing up or sitting down?” Adam being the first little boy who never grew up the prototypical male chauvinist pig said, “Standing.”

God turning to Eve, talking over His shoulder to Adam grinning said,“Fine.”

“Eve since Adam chose first I'll give you the prize, multiple Organisms!”

. . . she's still smiling down on the Emerald Isle, the happiest female in the cosmos.

Even now . . . &

She may have been insane. But I loved her so; then & more so now. She's long gone. I buried her. Using at her internment; the last sight of her, tightly sealed in an airline regulation Refrigerator looking coffin, all glowing white with gold handles. . .

Reading for her the Service for the Dead from the Episcopal Prayer Book, licensed to do so in Rhode Island not Maysville, Kentucky where she was born. With her mother and father and an empty grave for me. He daddy blew his balls of with a shot gun taking 20 days to bleed out. He a lay Methodist Circuit Riding Minister.

oh.

God!

Don't ever tell me please.

. . .driving her to a point--the ferocity of my love seemed--to escalate her rage higher giving her scaly wings, translucent, the Sun shining through, the higher harder to plummet from into me harder than a Peregrine my scales floating lazily to . . . no mist of blood . . . no sign of me, no impact zone, no beak or teeth to place my dog tags between, no place for toe tags. Yet I like the Phoenix Thunderbird arose again again gaining strength again more nearly hers terrified more violent each time beginning in that 58 hour dry birth Christ Hospital like the undead come back again & again. Resurrected reincarnated as some new threat fabricated for her to become whatever she needed to be to feel safe, loved, whole a woman tortured for being one. Me hermaphrodite balanced between passion and cold analysis unblinking no tears no plea looking into the soul of her.

. . . her mother's remains beside her her father too she remains waiting for me to

enter the empty spot somewhere beside her to reside dead by smoldering to strike not dragon dead body all I dared to worship ever otherwise; The Fargo Shredder

120703 19:46 July 4^th eve

The poem does not end where I terminated it. I chose instead to truncate my tapestry of concerns for those of us who are victimized by the projected dysfunctions of authority. Essentially I fell asleep and groggy attended a previously arranged obligation; and am buttoning up this for publication, the salient parts of my intentions seen from a different perspective analytically.

I do after action/engagement reports on every encounter. What is sometimes referred to as a postmortem or autopsy. The Buddhist call this being mindful. The process implies no specific goal, it is a process of self clarification, making corrections a person then is able to fear nothing and no one. When attacked or challenged there are three options. Stand still, step forward or step back: A classic ode is structured in three major parts: the strophe, the antistrophe, and the epode. Classical Greek Tragedy attempting to define definitively the divine. Another way would be: adapt, improvise, prevail. My favorite: John Dryden's “Beware the fury of a patient man.”

To love your enemy is to acknowledge their right to exist as they wish to be with respect; acceptance and/or submission the inevitable. If you have fully, mindfully, entered your soul/psyche/self consciously without sentiment or wishful thinking you will then be able to love your imperfect self perfectly. And your 'enemy' who is also a child of God. I know God, by any name, is real. Odd those two words Israel but that conceit started a very long time ago and is impractical on a planet all ready 3 billion people over capacity to sustain. I know were are not cancer were act by choice and fear to act as if were are.

They who slay you do so because they fear you.

I purport not to explain for or against or about. My focus is on enabling you to heal yourself. One of my favorite 'poems': Do no harm