Jack Spratt

120721 02:06 never lost

Nothing in love is ever lost & I awoke thinking of the 6 & 60 million killed by 'authority' I am my mother's son she taught me to be tough, she my teacher, who I love more now than ever

“Did the tree falling in a forest make a sound if no one was there to hear?”

“What is the sound of one hand?”

“Monkey see, Monkey do, Monkey hear?”

Be very careful around me. I deal from the middle and bottom and from up my sleeve the cards you may find in your hand playing Gin Rummy with me thinking I'm legit. Don't think I'm dealing off the top of the deck; never ever.

American Indian divinity is extraordinary. In this instance I'm thinking of the crow and the coyote. The crow is in the three and coyote is . . . well . . . look it up @ Wikipedia, Google or Bling or Ask. You, if there is a you, reading me now you know how angry I am with the 'authority' censoring the World Wide Web. I accept my vision/version of things without need of sanction or approval.

Oddly I sense each key stroke a clitoris; different as the characters beneath my fingers and I don't care what you think of me massively sensuous and erotic I'm still stroking and no authority can touch my soul.

Sister Kieran Flynn R. S. M. taught that we are all unique like the flakes of snow falling from heaven of a winters night. Glorious analogy yet I have come to sense the refraction implicit moving from one branch, the Tree of Life to another like the Asian Indian Ravi Shankar whose music I experience as not linear but enveloping, an opiate without after effect, no hangover; just complete and utter alteration, transformation, born again differently from anything I was before time began what's ticking now the heart of God . . .

Then from branch to branch each a different light refraction seen as usual a point in time never fixed and immutable . . . I am not a control freak nor anal retentive nor conservative of things but concepts – God is real – that you might challenge but never alter since it is my experience and adoration . . . neither of us God & Me are an IT but living reality subjects not objects nor are you the few who read and respond; oddly only women for now.

I am Catholic in the small 'c' sense adoring the mass being said 24/7/365 rolling around the world, a small wave of quiet peaceful prayer for all of us. Add to which I know the divinity of woman infinite because of The Sisters of Mercy.

Add to which I am a “Catherine McAuley boy” stunned senseless in one of her soup kitchens – her prayer to the poor “allow me to serve you” – but of course Jesus is present in all of us the meek moving up to the front of the line.

My love affair with mother never sexual save for her castration of me by false accusation divinely inspired since I've no time for the ministry of marriage. I like them RSM am married to God. They were and remain my Balm in Gilead the only real kindness known in life until M. And by them the women of my life learned my thesis of love: acceptance of it all everything except the submission to faux = FALSE authority.

Think all the right things for the wrong reason or all the wrongs for the right reason. Who judges? God not me, at least no longer for in Jesus Mohammad Buddha Rumi the list is long, longer than time itself, merely God manifest differently for us to see, hear, draw near to and love more dearly day by day.

Who do I shadow box with in my sleep, wrestling until we both fall asleep Annie nestled against my weeping laughing shouting out speaking and as Randy once commented glowing in the dark. He, Randy, said, “Daddy I don't want any more of this . . . my resolve must have been apparent since the steel hat pin poke your eyes out intransigence of my bride's stone woman acquiesced. Unbeknownst to me Kieran was also dying of Leukemia and making the same choice. They my beloved Sisters called and asked me to attend whatever it was funeral or memorial but I don't do them unless under undo duress since they, the event itself, is for the living.

In death the soul departs leaving behind a shell and I am the ice man; the Fargo Shredder . . . what we were stinks, rots, falls apart and fertilizes the earth for the next generation born; living; dying; a tincture of leaven alters the entire universe and nothing is ever lost – nothing for naught.

Never judge anything or anyone as merely this or that since I know my imperfections very well. . . .and the judge awaits our face-to-face.

Have a care since God doesn't do revisionism of history.

As previously published/confessed: I like Josef Mengele am not a nice person. Or merely a con artist doing anything to get you to love yourself then love another and another until the universe is love possible no more war.

© 2012 by Jack Spratt All Rights Reserved