Wounded in life, I seek to staunch the wounds of others . . . . --xoj

"Jack Spratt’s two centavo Guide to Redemption”
©2012 by Jack Spratt All Rights Reserved

God's tapestry, all creation, my greatest value an attempt to live/love for: in gratitude, mercy, forgiveness, regardless of Age, Race, Creed, Gender, Gender Proclivities, or Generosity . . . seeking to make redemtion salvation & resurrection potential in all unique, precious, individual lives, human, plant, animal, world. . . .through words & images - Jack Spratt ... KISS

Thursday, July 12, 2012


120712 03:11 cypher

--H. P Lovecraft
"All life is only a set of pictures in the brain, among which there is no difference betwixt those born of real things and those born of inward dreamings, and no cause to value the one above the other."

random
rogue
rage
no privacy
Was I born in the wrong time & place
or am I merely in a bad dream causing rage towards
The Thought Police, Inc. & US Patriot Act Rape?

Wishing now I could remember exactly the sequence and time of reading Kafka, Mencken, George Orwell, Ambrose Bierce “Incident at Owl Creek”, Aldous Huxley “Brave New World”
may have been before I could drive an automobile or die for draft dodgers like Bill Clinton or George W Bush The events so significant the above Governmental Agencies having my sperm count blood type current pressure heart beat, urine and fecal analysis plus attendant probes trailing invisibly as I masturbate watching mothers carnal play with goats

Oh Gee Mom I thought I could play with myself in private?!”

You mean I'm on Fox Fucked World TV? Too!”

How humiliating it this life become not merely cheek/jowl extremely rude riding elevators The Cathedral of World Rape, Greed, Pillage, Burn, Berserk, Amok, Outrage & Sons Inc., conveniently located centrally A perfect target with which to Twitter Facebook Google + the collective ideal representation; The United States of America of thee I adoringly sing?

In God (the once all mighty holy dollar) Trust, l a geek gleefully inserting his proboscis in my posterior no lubricant The Property Manager orally raping my mouth while sodomizing my mind gleefully to mindless die fly downwardly free fall sighing pleasurably GET ME THE FUCK OFF THIS CHAOS MERRY-GO-ROUND NOW!

Falling peacefully floating the sidewalk rising to greet my face slowly thinking of the pigeons shitting upon my falling failing soul Odd a reprise my three meetings with G. H. W. Bush how in touching him I remember how vacuous G. W. Bush merely seen seemingly vicious by Dick Cheney anally fisting his jaw speaking nonsense Putin's eyes mirrors of my soul then flying out the Saudis who control Chase financing the entire enterprise

Yes Mom I have grievances. I'm wet can you dry me in the microwave? D'ya think there is room for the the congress of baboons too minus tutus?

Before you do, do you think my half-brother Stephen Norman Spratt will psychologically abuse dad stealing any or all parts the life I wasted putting him trough Maine Maritime instead of going to The Coast Guard Academy tuition free plus pay.

Did you know he would sexually assault and insult his then good friend my adopted daughter with racial epithets? Or that he insured his elephantine mothers death purchasing with the profit a lawn tractor? Riding her, his naked porcine self spurring with spurs her forward while frantically yanking his one testicle pagan penis. Her bridled mouth pulled right then left as she mowed his four acre retirement cottage in Maine where the manikin G. H. W. 'no more taxes!' equally retired fully health insured guarded by Secret Service personnel enough for a party plus Foreign Aid from Saudi Arabia lives. . . .Her mouth yanked cruelly yet giggling jiggling the massive flab breast swaying

Where's the beef son?”

I don't really know but I have these visions poetical. Just thoughts; words and rage my soul's song sung.

Maybe, perhaps, maybe not; never/ever forgiven; the greatest expression of love after gratitude.

I'm still wet Mom microwave me now”

. . . were any person or politician actually harmed and before me dying I would give them a cup of water and at their entrance into the true Democracy -- death – hold their hand or body weep into their witness the last and best friend seen before dying. My loyalty behaved demonstrated; even my half-brother who I wish would change his name

© 2012 by Jack Spratt All Rights Reserved   

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