Jack Spratt

120713 combined 05:11 gruel & 120713 10:29 imperfect

120713 05:11 gruel

We are condemned to life without knowing we're in captivity for only a time To learn to love and be love given wholly free no coupons required & in some sense I don't at the moment fully apprehend when we get to go Home.

Get it stupid?

You & I are in kindergarten yet metaphorically we've never left.

I had a cat black & white acquired from Woodstock, Illinois from a woman who rescued animals abused and abandoned. . . . Think about Bill Murray and his punishment . . .

I wanted the cat as a companion for my friend Rags so named because otherwise he would merely be called “cat: gray & white” he reminded me of L. L. Bean's wonderful wool & cotton socks I called 'rag socks' of which I had so many pairs I simply washed them all together at once in cold water Tide with red boxer shorts & the white panties stolen or acquired or torn off – well only in the best time of my life delivering newspapers before electric clothes dryers I'd spot them adoringly titillatingly flirting inciting in the breeze – at other times I'd raid laundry hampers soiled always more better better yet mostbestus something like asbestos but not lethal & if really possessed and/or inspired I'd sneak into houses to see what I could find to take out like a drive through smorgasbord U know those “Don't Deliver on Vacation” occasionally she'd come to the door and give little johnny her son's friend the subscription payment in panties clutching a moist towel to her wet body not creamy jeans but volcanic eruptions in my mind

Odd I could keep my cool and pretend not to be stepping on my tongue or otherwise addled Then wearing one pair the other over my head the last wrapped around my scepter I mean penis I'd have and soul depleting spend if they were mom's i'd be very careful to leave no traces at the departure point or what the Brits call euphemistically an/the “Arrival”

Take little snarky Stephen's enormous mom her preference was for nylon – cotton boring I'd like to destroy Jockey – lace nice to look at but scratchy no not into pain or groups or abuse of any kind merely dude to dudedette Her's were approximately the size of a circus tent before erection not and add insult to injury she hoarded pantyhose that invention I would retroactively abort at death they were found in fishbowls filled with quarters beneath and behind piles of National Geographic like national monuments high with tiny passageways and littered across the kitchen nook table were dildo catalogs guess dad couldn't get it up past seventy two I have only a few months before becoming useless myself yet on a good day I can see forever!?

Normally I say in the Mens Locker room “I'm still (instead of vertical to women only more often than not) erect and salute the flag seeing Old Glory and I'm looking at the right side of the grass.” Something like Grand Old Party but I digress . . .

Some women I can crank up yet they while laughing are essentially some other dude's bookend dead to me and of those I get to 'know' better they too take more time than it's worth since I fall asleep between their thighs not sighing but snoring with lockjaw limp no reward the salute Grand Old Party of The Glory flapping.

yapping?

Well dear friend and brother Saint Thomas Aquinas move over it's my turn now.

She, Janina, my sister was a kind & loving six I twelve she scratching my back, mom & dad absent at a party getting hammered he returned her straight stiff as a board over his shoulder One time he with everything packed in his care left; “You're in charge.” and left.

So we were alone I cannot for the soul of me understand why she took off her clothes displaying her Mount of Venus to me for observation come later obsession well I'm a Boy still and She a Girl still even now we love one another we're family.

I said it's time for bed she dressed then undressed into her Doctor Dentons and went to sleep I shortly followed in my own bed.

Cup'pla weeks later she raised her skirt in -- what – kindergarten or first grade in the cloak room. Then my banishment began.

Mom already given to violent erratic behavior sober or intoxicated went not ballistic but nuclear accusing us of incest

Janina off to the gynecologist maidenhead check

Johnny put in “Coventry” fed, clean clothes but otherwise not addressed with anything but flaming eyes silence for mor3e than a year or more-or-less

In all the traumas from shortly after birth my mind flat lined a roaring white static leaving me emotionless for all intents and purposes a dead child standing staring and it drove her insane or maybe more so than before she wiped the walls with my excrement or threw me naked in November out the back door the lock snicking memory is a strange and wondrous consciousness

Dad found me after all the times he stood silent witness to her madness me upside face down in an oak high chair screaming the oatmeal my daily bread floor to ceiling at twelve years of age running away in the Innis Arden Golf Course – can't remember what hole but somewhere in the middle how he found me and took me back to what?

So began my slavery to him & the other half of the god head No more summers with my beloved Mama Lu . . . as Jung said “The Great Mother” true . . . my maternal grandmother the other Nora nude with dignity taught me how to tie my shoes still remembered with love too. The paternal one.

Devolved into anytime they could leave they did with me more-or-less in charge in time their absence would grow longer from a day or two to ten then fourteen or so returning mother put roses in the bidet a tip he'd given them to her can't remember how many times they returned from various trips dad wanted to take singly See he never paid her for 24/7/365 slavery to him as she once told me at something like nineteen He wanted a whore & The Virgin Mary Me he paid minim wage for a six day week stint I ran away again in junior high school she saw me I didn't stop running across fields parking lots and penniless boarded a train she behind me in an idling previously used Cadillac the light changing green to red The conductor asked for my ticket then money I flimflammed him saying I was off to college and mom had wired the money ahead I jumped off in North Brotherly Love Philadelphia rolling down the gravel rail bed walking into town saw a woman drug to a car I started to intervene and she plead with me not too, silent, with her eyes moving on I hitchhiked to Cincinnati to see Mama Lu were my only knowing of a home was I was reading “A Day On Fire” biography of Charles Baudelair Big for my age from thirteen playing sexual games with eighteen year old female at Summer Music Camp my pal the blind one groping them openly they giggling like when you . . . isn't Google just fucking wonderful couldn't remember your middle name Edward or Norman Spratt.

Google it Abusive father fucker abuser of my daughter calling her “NIGGER” . . . sexual predator Brother fucker what a leader you will make of men typical of those you served your Country so anally with in the Pentagon as a civilian sub-contractor making $150,000 ~ $180,000 per annum. . . . (note: anal retentive) . . . in Google proper their Chrome Browser though they know I like looking at naked women . . . just put it in the address line

. . . I digress, sorry bout that

oh! yeah Standing beside a dead naked limbs truncated no bark tree *

. . . * My idiot editor who knows even less than the idiot author of this who knows nothing about the art and craft of writing left hanging at me the 'editor/author' @ the tree . . . in a olive corduroy jacket rumbled starving penniless as I am and will remain until I die my thumb out little to no traffic . . . along comes a '52 Chevy coupe somewhat greenish packed front to back with father mother and maybe five to seven children of mocha color maybe Mexican or Native American with a few African American genes to lend spice . . . they stopped made room for and fed me lovingly all the way to Cincinnati . . . go back to the

. . . another story sometime . . . like the one in my dream with Jesus crying abused . . . oh before I forget since Google now knows everything like The Thought Police and Rapist Incorporated The Patriot Act I also have a kink MILF mothers Id like to Fuck or in your case simply Mother Fuckers and since I know you very well from many conversations and you're being AC/DC minor flourish drum roll please FATHER FUCKER as well; are you please putz weenie boy I imply nothing by the following yet should God get His Hands on you as He did me . . . well he's considerably more forgiving and merciful than I Yet should you make amends make amends restoring some small fraction of what you stole from my sister . . . forget me . . . I too may forgive you are you will return as dear old dad once described of others he didn't like: A butt boy in a Calcutta Whore House for Elephants, rectum approximately the size of your greed.

I'm convicted of the following, I should have said, considering the performance – You are Republican – aren't you? Synonymous with greed avarice unconscionably rude to the last in line where you will find a permanent home as in the beatitudes mention '.. the meek shall inherit the earth .. ' . . . fond of Elephants? Of course you are.

Leaping Saint John on a pogo stick this is more complex than War & Peace mating with Ulysses of Joyce not Alfred, Lord Tennyson

. . . a brief, as in granny panties, better to wear since lacking hips they don't fall down make me slip off the bed and have on average larger Ball Rooms – obviously no problem for you bro since even your mothers would be like a nightgown to swim in don't you know little cock? One ball wonder!

. . . on a brief aside I will forgive you since I loved you then and now, remember “Dove” solo sailing around the world; the inscription? For your birthday? Though penniless dad's calling me before dying took a longtime to recognize as peer friendship his greatest gift to me was he himself . . . and that is priceless since it never runs out. There is no end to love, empathy mercy, forgiveness the highest of these

amen

PS there is more. Where do you think this shit comes from? Make believe?

& Knowing God I would be known better for honest transparency “To See, To Walk, To Talk and love Thee more Dearly Day by Day more Daily and I have no fear of death or pain for I so love Thee http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0070121/

120713 10:29 imperfect

Always a contender

a wannabe no champion advocate instead

I met and photographed clerics & priests & sisters/brothers religious & others whole or holy unknown

from whom unsolicited I received confessions to which I replied whether explicit implied or merely prayed for now & then & continuous within the Prayer Wheel of me my mind

Silently requesting; 'pray for me a sinner too – Go forth and sin no more. Amen'

And if remembered my pain and suffering so complex as theirs – I'd add:

“Rejoice in the Lord, I will say again: Rejoice!” http://bible.cc/philippians/4-4.htm . . . .'in all things are Heaven sent'

Weeping now it is not for what was written by/for me The Author of us all who loves all persons born beyond all reason in all seasons of suffering and pain; the former is choice the latter is inevitable

No punishment intended no grief required

Once I was falsely accused of raping my sister and thus made an emotional unicorn/ castrato/eunuch abused and neglected from infancy until I became large & wise enough to engage my mother in any way to survive the depredations of her imaginings.

My favorite. We'd been chasing the cat out from under my bed laughing at his, “Smudge”, escaping our gentle prodding the brush end of a broom. Unbeknownst Mother during arrived later on sharing coffee I intuited her agitation whereupon I calmly placed my half filled cup upside down Her nascent obloquy leached fled forgotten like Smudge his hair ball deposited on the floor not the rug. Let me see now between 12 and 16/17 the second accusation.

It is through this experience that I write having empathy for those who civilian or cleric abuse sexually/physically/emotionally child/adult/animal/Earth – faith in forgiveness none perfect all learning before being judged by He who walks with us silent unseen.

Little confident in my current play with words & God i sense whether by resurrection or reincarnation those of us consciously mindful pass/fail will return to attempt to graduate the school of Hard Knocks

Had I not forgiven my baby half-brother half flesh of me and dad I'd die of shame with him still a monkey on my back.

© 2012 by Jack Spratt All Rights Reserved