Sudden death celestial Wizardry

"SUDDEN DEATH". . . not really; the title of this post is simply an attempt to assess the impact of "headlines." I remain curious regarding 'The Eric Hoffer' post, receiving more than fifty hits. Eric is a person of importance to me personally but I have yet to meet anyone conversant with him or his ideas and writing. "The True Believers" in terms of personal impact was, at first reading, one of the most significant of hundreds if not thousands read. Content remembered but author/title forgotten. My curiosity is not for 'brand' names but the creative process itself and the process/spirit of writing. 

At lunch with M our conversation was candid, sincerely honest, and far ranging. Covering among others things her choices in response to a medical crisis/difficulty. Angelic to me she is difficult to target with a barrage of love hurled to any degree I dare. Walking away all too aware that it might be our final face time shedding not one tear but riddled with love nonetheless . . . knowing and confident we'll meet on the 'other' side somehow/sometime if by God's will. . . .as we met in the first place.

Contrary to all past times writing or involved in any other creative process; I now get up wander away the process continues through menial things; washing dishes etc. 

I came to realize my revulsion over tattoos was esthetic since for me human flesh, all of it, in all aspects, is the canvas of God. Yet while in the kitchen, a ruin for now, I came to recognize a penchant, proclivity, habit of marking things as having been used by me alone. No longer practiced my cutting boards, mostly bamboo, have nary a mark though heavily used. However one I purchased near six years ago when I first arrived in what is sincerely the only home I've ever had; that plastic cutting board is scarified. Thus the dawn over "MARBLE HEAD" i then knew tattoos a marking and making of ownership by too many people who unlike me no longer wish to be anonymous to themselves. A sort of self BRANDING sans the patent 'R' as in registered.

My rebellion entirely within my head and heart, light years travel also. My soul doth magnify Creation privately. And my travels seek the far ends of God. I know this impossible but sought nonetheless. 

I love ferociously and only one as magnificent and vast as M could stand me as full of defects and imperfections as I am. And at that the nature and kind of her love is more nearly that of God's. Were it otherwise i'd be a puddle of tearful anticipatory grief.

For all her beauty she remains a stiletto in the forehead -- one tough momma. I had intended to ask her who was the most difficult first offender interviewed -- laughing now -- I'm thinking it/is was me.

I am internally shy when it comes to self entitlement; actually the reverse of being a narcissist. As a creative person who seeks the joy/bliss of being in, actively/consciously, creation. Despite years of accomplishments recognized by awards and personal affirmations received I remain a duffer, marginally accomplished feeling inadequate the tasks I set for myself. The fact is, with rare exception, I shun praise being suspicious; a learned trait from attempting to affirm my love of my parents collectively or solo. Yet for eternity will I remember our duets: M&M. 

That confession published, moving along, I am discursive and episodic, seeking to twang the spinal chords of those people or ideas I encounter . . . now rendering myself a cinder thinking of Mary and God. And at that I could never preach since I cry too easily and choke reciting 1 Corinthians 13 . . . in some sense terrified I'll become as hysterical as I was at my son's internment. 

Odd, dad, only cried when speaking of Randy though I often sensed him near tears describing his perceived abandonment of his parents, leaving Springfield, Ohio seeking fame, acclaim and wealth. He did own, or was owned by, a Rolls Royce in the prime of his life. Albeit briefly then I came along, perceived, ruining everything. 

As previously mentioned; damaged people, like me, learn to pretend being okay or cool. Regardless how we feel, think, sense or intuit the value and meaning of what is going on outside. 

An armor of indifference?

I was taught I was too sensitive to live and that I made simple things complex. Perhaps as I've read, Einstein and Twain, education is really an abandonment of all we're taught. 

Oh! 

Yes! 

Eric Hoffer too!

To love and be loved by small animals is grand but to be so loved by a sentient -- brilliant person such as M is Wizardry: celestial. . . .Add to which she's been hustled men by much shaper than i. And as well of vast celebrity. To paraphrase myself: "Women love selectively and profoundly while men, small boys never growing up, indiscriminately and superficially . . . always looking for a mommy?

12831 17:06 sudden death
© 2012 by Jack Spratt - All Rights Reserved

Mirth is natural by nurture not but defense at times snake eyes gazing deadly showing neither tear fear nor pain absent suffering not. 

I did bait mother as I do all women at times merely to make them laugh outrageously suggesting we have sexual congress RIGHT-HERE-RIGHT-NOW amongst the people i work with mostly if not all women at the times of my trick at hospice knowing me well they laugh since I flirt more often than not -- with mom as well or too (towards?)

Yet her laughter was seldom and then only in derision to suggestive phone calls, we worked together long after I should have left, she would say; "I'll eat anything I can put a fork in" or "knife" or "screwdriver" or "drive screws into" . . . my sense the suggestive submission was oral sex?!

Unjustly accused at a time of knowing my pee pee merely a convenience of incest with my six-year-old sister i being a very young twelve then -- she put me in Coventry = not speaking to me for over a year. Food, shelter, clothing nothing else silence preeminent. Add well remembered hurled from the back door naked in November the cold still shivering me now at 71 the door locked behind me my mind a blank for how long it still is at times allowing me to ponder random things acutely. Neutered in neutral idling wasting gas . . . 

. . . pause . . . aside: M just called to confirm a lunch date. I laughed. Telling her that I'd put a submarine dive klaxon alarm in my personal information manager. 'gasp' Going further, telling her she should hear her singular telephone ring . . . "Souza?" as in HAIL TO THE CHIEF. No it is celestial fit for more than a President, more Impress or a force of nature . . . "I'll hang up here." Laughing again, "I'll see you later." CLICK 

Then while seated on a porcelain throne in the reading room Annie attacked as she usually does in any idle moments seeking my attention. Biting me at times, or when I play snake inches from her whiskers, she doth protest vehemently vocalizing petulantly disapproval threatening me with worse than mere bites but scratches too! Oh well will there ever be too many beloved females including the feminine component of the Windy Spirit who vagrantly kisses me in public so no one notices? The Author of All Things!

Mother, of course, being God Like to me in infancy until too long afterwards castrated me by her behavior including such times while she wearing a tube top would glare at flaming me pulling up higher thus emphasize what I was ogling.

The actual point of this overlong preamble: Curiosity regarding the why and wherefore or what does motivate young women to desecrate their bodies with tattoos? Which in turn compels meditation of Social Media. . .I know I exist and wish more often than not I didn't. . . .yet still here and typing have essentially arrived at a point of needing neither affirmation or praise. It, this writing, being merely an incarnation of a disease. Like a shark needing move or die. But of others some too close to me to talk about I sense the entire thing a shit storm. 

Self Advertisement. 

A cyclone of human waste . . . but . . . then this accurately describes my conclusions regarding all things political especially the flatulent fatuous farting through mouths of pontifical pretenders to the throne white and White House porcelain dumping it all upon us

are we paying for this?

REALLY!

I'll have to wait awhile before publishing conclusive or definitive judgement on why she won't allow me to love her as I see her. Could it be that she cannot see herself as I do? As objectionable as that might be we're still going to have lunch -- terminal? 

As in The Last Big Mac?

. . . oh sweet Jesus in a Good Humor Truck i should 'a taken a nap instead of this!

120831 08:08 snake eyes
© 2012 by Jack Spratt All Rights Reserved

love is . . .

After all these years celibate immune from attempting to define or heal myself by the agency of a woman's body or love of any kind save being confidants. Of which, or about, I could say many things yet their confidence and mine, confessional, sacred to me remaining embossed on the prayer wheel of myself--mindfulness--Buddhist--in the closet sense

. . . .though i do adorn my wrist with rudraksha sherpa coral & Bodhi Seeds mala. . . .in homage: the Tibetans who self immolate in protest the rape of their spirituality, country and people; especially Tibetan Buddhist nuns. By the Chinese about who/which The Dahl Lama said simply; "Bad Karma."

Never say Never -- since -- Nothing is for Naught; meaning -- in an extremely simple sense -- go with the flow. 

We mate out of season for the pleasure of it never realizing the importance of love. An intimacy between men and women regardless of age is not defined by sexual penetration or all the variants of. Instead it is congress of persons equal in value to one another exclusive of sexual gratification called pleasurable. 

What happens in the five to seven minutes of orgasm has lasting implications, or cause/effect, deadly or covenantal consequent the birth of child/children resulting and an obligation/responsibility for from eighteen years to the time date and death of the mother. Most men abandon both without recourse or resource.  I tried but failed; going back to walk the final fatal mile with my son and his mother. 

We as a nation are bemusing to the rest of the world; our puritan heritage skewed. 
Well. 
Actually. 
The world is amused by our modesty since it renders us ridiculous. 

Of sex between same gender it is a poor impoverished condemnation of what implies neither rape nor consequential children. Of which we have already too many dying daily of neglect -- even among those who sired them. 

In those I know and know well intimately I know their love as profoundly sincere as any i've found within or without the covenant of marriage. 

Think of men at war. In general they fight for the life of one another. 

Of women to the same depths of knowing by me; in general they have been abused by a male. Women are by nature and nurture more gentle than savage. 

Men, like myself, take decades to advance, or age by experience, to an point/action/behavior of emotional sobriety, maturity or simply the 'age of majority.' Taking full responsibility for all parameters of participating in a relationship that ideally, for me and many others, becomes friendship. To me "Friendship" meant: never getting laid. But laying a friend who is true . . . Women love deeply and seldom Men fleetingly and often . . . has inherently: light years and orders of magnitude greater joy than mere pleasure. Something like 1/60th of a second compared to infinity. Or is endless orgasm as joy; a joy? and if that is it applicable to everything we do?
of course it is, happiness to me!

My sense, not exclusive to me, is that true love accepts the person loved as they wish to be; leaving only when the love between us smothers the life out of each -- or -- one or the other. And for me love is not a noun but a verb given/giving without conditions of reciprocity endowing the beloved complete freedom to dance together or distantly apart by galaxies. . . . after though grief is like wealth that's all you got . . . stand up, move forward, participate: live.

I have a sense of urgency since, I would if I could, lend you some sense; gleaned from all my failures, hypocrisies and bigotries. Remorse? No. It is a mode of celebration. A knowing myself truly joyful and fully blest by the The Great Spirit Wind wh0 in manic laugher used to blow me about a bit of fluffy feather down.

The measure of this person who writes these words is not the words themselves but behavior; deeds and intentions in crisis. And nothing is ever lost to, or in, what we call 'god.' To whom I give all that I am or will ever be in love and gratitude that I have a heart beat . . . having been beaten mere clay an infant to a sword of a man become now a plow shear finding fertile grown into which I plant the seeds of Love.

. . . i, for the nonce, still can you know; the doctor and solo practice tells me so 2 wish i might wish i had made more love than anxiety in a tutu dancing in the night winds of lust or love either way works for me . . . the best part of us is between our ears extending downward to beneath the breast bone: our soul: always virginal without gender angelic

"When we love properly, we expand our love for (one to) a few to compassion for all. This love can help all beings to live with happiness and freedom, and it is anything but small and powerless–it is the reason for our existence!" –A Buddhist Master’s Wisdom

120831 05:58 celibate
© 2012 by Jack Spratt All Rights Reserved

time means nothing to me

hours past night crept to day and back reminding me eternity awaited my choice to accept or deny to come go or remain alive eventually 

Identity mine and they who came to nurse me emerged from within the silence not amazed recalling the first extrusion some called conversion epiphany bathing in the blood of jesus the lamb 
the signs are somewhat like a brain quake or orgasm ineluctable=inevitable but nothing moves accept your mind 

In orgasm we see/sense/feel/think/experience god as if by strobe light 1/60th of a second 
In conversion the experience was longer maybe thirty six hours or so and then I excluded it since the I was, or thought I was, unworthy the attention but never forgot the experience until they ministered to me now with one testicle. About which I will confess the pain was astonishing yet suppressed in that I do not want to be possessed by anything or one. A random quote attributed to Buddha in essence said; "tend to your health for without it you will be unable to teach;" to the ER i went. 

After a goodly number attempts to assess my blood pressure the nurses began to look at me askance and called doctor after doctor who said in essence it is 210! 

Like horoscopes and other numbers, and many other things, I play the cards dealt So it meant nothing to me except they said Stroke/Cardiac Arrest. At which point I said; "Back off, do not touch me, I want a DNR=Do Not Resuscitate (me) 'thinking there is no one I can expect to honor my wish to be smothered while helpless: a vegetable'  = 'pillow solution'

The infusions began, hyperbolic=given to exaggeration for the humor in it, I jest not: gallons. 

Imbued into my flesh is a simple fact, precept, conceit in reverse: I am not this body, not this mind, these thoughts or feelings. Instead my body is inhabited by something grand which will not end with what I once called 'me.'

I favor Native American Indian spirituality especially their sense we own nothing being emigrants upon land in bodies dedicated to The Great Spirit -- what you Gringo's call 'god.' Meaning--hating to be redundant--i do not own this body and it owns me not. From far before birth until long after "i" am ashes upon the sands of New Mexico what is within me will long remain and that i love above all things . . . but . . . obviously to neither have or own. . . .To have or have not. The Great Spirit Winds move as they wish over the indifferent and the reverent.

I know how to die. When awakened am astonished this dawn another moment to live & live for Love which is within all of us equally even if only for 1/60th of a second . . . and eye blink/wink

. . . & for 4 me time to write again laughing & crying again the joy of being alive or dead in the Love of The Great Spirit moving the pinball stars above twinkling with mirth

. . . . . . . . .so when you toss a Coca Cola can out the window of your car remember you are decorating my headstone; a memento/mnemonic your passing value and expression of your indifference to love yourself and live.

Be well & Be aware that you are blest by me either way

120831 0436 what
© 2012 by Jack Spratt All Rights Reserved

permutations changing everything 

chaos for instance in pinball playing 

myself the ball and the gamer playing

my destiny is oft invisible as the plain 

of my being is rocked and lurched 

vigorously lights out TILT! game over 

the person playing my activity dead 

before dropping to the concrete 

penny arcade floor in uniform a war

casualty lost or missing in action No 

it was St. Louis and my father saw 

the event vibrant in moments his friend 

electrocuted by  faulty wiring 

electricity coursing through his rubber

soled shoes not me but him the gamer 

of me dad. 

Lessons learned in time age forgotten the intention of dad to keep me from touching anyone vibrating only using a nonconductive instruments like a dry mop handle if wet will conduct the electricity deading me do not play savior or sailor of anything or anyone doing so is deadly especially for me or dad or the player of everything or anyone who wishes to do what they do. The savior in me always steps up eyes spinning both vibrating and jiggling upon the penny arcade floors of existence and . . . 

Time is never still Like a river To enter it one my choose to either stand move forward or backward The moment never the same From that moment Before or Afterward the sailor remains the same but the river changes and the sailor once alive is now dead meat wading infinity or crossing the river Styx the ferryman collecting his quarter the price of admission from under his tongue the sailor

120831 0231 pinball
© 2012 by Jack Spratt All Rights Reserved

our odds against tomorrow

odds against tomorrow grow dim/darker minute by minute given that we are indifferent to our Selves and all those surround us growing more and more and more.

Emigrants in a land we proclaim to own America exports concepts alone that darken the world’s future. Among them torture and the absence of Habeas Corpus. My previous post mentioned Mary Shelly but not in detail. What follows is copied from Wikiquote resulting from hyper links contained within her quote:

"My heart was fashioned to be susceptible of love and sympathy, and when wrenched by misery to vice and hatred, it did not endure the violence of the change without torture such as you cannot even imagine." 


Torture is any act by which severe pain, whether physical or psychological, is intentionally inflicted on a person as a means of intimidation, a deterrent, revenge, a punishment, or as a method for the extraction of information or confessions.

Sourced

"Perhaps we cannot prevent this world from being a world in which children are tortured. But we can reduce the number of tortured children. And if you don’t help us, who else in the world can help us do this?"  -Albert Camus, at the Dominican Monastery of Latour-Maubourg (1948); reported in Resistance, Rebellion and Death (translation by Justin O'Brien, 1961), p. 73.

"I want to make sure that if my government ever does this horrible, terrible, extraordinary thing, that somebody takes responsibility for it and that it be out there in the open and subject to accountability. ... Though I understand the danger of legitimating something that should not be legitimated, on balance in a democracy, I prefer accountability." -Alan Dershowitz, Felix Frankfurter Professor of Law at Harvard Law School, debating David D. Cole Pre-emption: Preventive, coercive, or both? (2007).

"I mentioned to one of the gaolers my sense of this hardship, as an obstinate guilty person might deny the truth, whilst an innocent one, less courageous, might very readily, to relieve himself from such a state of misery, make a false confession. His answer was laconic: "Lago confess" ... "They soon confess."" -Irish lawyer William Sampson, writing of his experience under torture, quoting an inquisitor on its futility as a means of obtaining information Memoirs of William Sampson, 2nd Edition (1817), Letter XVII

"Torture is senseless violence, born in fear... torture costs human lives but does not save them. We would almost be too lucky if these crimes were the work of savages: the truth is that torture makes torturers." -Jean-Paul Sartre, "A Victory" (1958)

"The one thing we know about torture is that it was never designed in the first place to get at the actual truth of anything; it was designed in the darkest days of human history to produce false confessions in order to annihilate political and religious dissidents. And that is how it always works: it gets confessions regardless of their accuracy." -Andrew Sullivan, "Imaginationland", The Daily Dish (2007-10-25).

Unsourced

"The strong will resist and the weak will say anything to end the pain." -Ulpian
"Know that there are five degrees of torture, videlicit, first, the torture of being threatened to be tortured; secondly, the torture of being conveyed to the place of torture; thirdly, the torture of being, and bound for torture; fourthly, the torture of being hoisted on the torturing rack; and fifthly, and lastly, the torture of squassation." -Julius Clarus, quoted by Philip Limborch, a preacher and annotator, in his History of the Inquisition

"[It] has never been a reliable means of extracting information. It is ultimately self-defeating as a means of control. One wonders why it is still practiced." -Captain Jean-Luc Picard, Star Trek: The Next Generation; Episode #137 "Chain of Command, Part II" 1992. Picard has been captured and tortured for information by the Cardassians.

. . to close: 

Greed is an addiction responsible for the export of our economy and employment. Inflicting upon others subhuman income and working conditions. Should we be proud of that? Or elect someone guilty of it? By what right/rite divine or evil does he purport to in vanity lead us and where? . . . more on this in the latter future . . . 

120830 08:05 odds against tomorrow
© 2012 by Jack Spratt All Rights Reserved

!NEWS BULLETIN!

Just in receipt of news from M . . . and Mary Shelly

Coincidence? i know not so!

M is at times both: the Green Emerald eyed Sphinx and, though I’ve alluded as such, or so, also a ginormous stone mule legs spraddled refusing to go or do anything . . . save for her intention. Inconvenient, difficult, obstinate of course but that’s why I love her so since she is She & beloved of me nearly so as God.

At that. How could she otherwise have endured these going on years with me wandering and wondering the desert of my mind? Or heal me as she has.

I am a reader of quotes. One time of books; addictively so. Yet in old age, lacking time, both in the present and future tense; I sense-think-intuit-feel people of such grandeur myself rendered, not merely a dust mote but, invisible. 

AWESTRUCK! 
. . . no longer fearful

Both women in their own way and time have healed me of dependence and expectation of anything I could anticipate. Becoming sovereign unto themselves a value higher than all previous desires or lusts. Best, both, have placed my endless grief upon the shelf of history. Not suffered but valued; both my grief and the women beloved of me.

I made a conscious dedication in view of my son’s becoming a cesspool of toxicity and expected to be blind and sterile had he lived. That I would, given the same difficulties, chose not to become such; since life for me is an issue of quality not quantity. And no one, not even God, can take my sovereign right to decide for myself to live or die or why. No Forgiveness required.

In her difficulty her choice is as mine. Should our dawn become exclusively mine, I will meet her again at another SunSon rise elsewhere in eternity. Should she predecease me I will be free of her obstinate refusal of my detailed praise or portraiture . . . until then; find your own confident friend.

120830 06:55 concord
© 2012 by Jack Spratt All Rights Reserved

truth i give you -- mine

Joy is experience of the Presence at all times in all places. The world and heavens conjoined whole & holy. This wealth is ours. All life’s and cannot be taken by extortion or death. Do no murder. Simply for that which we kill kills us; not in whole but by degrees and slowly.

When pleasure rules it controls the recipient; pleasure ends or dies while joy never ends or dies. Too much of anything: sex, pleasure, rock n’ roll or death is boring. Quality versus Quantity and gambling or gaming is simply another form of divination. Or playing solitaire and cheating. 

My words are poor, faint directions to what you can experience within by experience or faith not belief. 

If you do not assert your right to live life exclusive to your choice. Then you, as I was, are a slave to having anything other than your Self. 

Faith = experience. Belief = ideation/ideas feeding nothing but fear. 

My thoughts and conclusions are meaningless to you but my intentions are meaningful in that I ask you to love yourself. That’s the joker in the deck, isn’t it? What is Love?

Love cannot be defined in the abstract. Love must be lived -- lived with and for: I/Thou never I/It since if God is an It than also am I. 

I intensely dislike and am now bored by theology; a bit less than by politics, power or pleasure. I am neither cynical or skeptical but know the cost of pleasure too well. And the wealth of joy immeasurable is growing minute by minute. If I accept or submit to your faux “god like” pleasure in killing me of my ‘death’ then I place the burden of justice upon your soul. And my soul can never damn you for I know the Judge.

Choice has consequence; or what some call Karma; so near in sound to dharma or epiphany.  

Be careful of how you read me since I am devious in that I have introduced the words of our now “enemy” since by definition submit is the derivation of Islam. Acceptance is, for me at least, and only now in this life, how I define why I can and may write these words. My childhood prayers being answered as asked; please be real and known to me . . . what is the meaning and purpose of power or any and all things. 

What I now know in part I will soon know whole face-to-face with the origin of all things. In that prospective event I find peace now and forward. I have regrets which I cannot avoid or deny; thorns in my naked feet accompanying me in every step. While I’ve become accustomed to the pain the suffering, is at times, unbearable. My slander and actual crimes against children peers who attacked me or simply were different from me. I could rationalize the cause and effect but refuse to do so since in that choice I cannot find forgiveness or mercy or love. And impermissible to me is that I did wrong for right reasons or right for the wrong reasons. Such conclusions I must accept from the Judge.

For you and for myself I’ve opened a Pandora’s box filled with, not one but a trillion, hydras. To me that is merely the process of creation and healing. Unafraid I know my fears more effort than the confrontation & accountancy.

In the deaths of others I’ve seen peace in them. Their bodies left behind. Souls gone on. In faith I know this will be true of me. At least, I pray so. Let it be in me. Let it be in you. That is what and why I write. We are emigrants in life returning home in death. Blaspheme is not slander of what is holy accept when against yourself. Idols are things, as are cults, ideals that have no life save in mutual intoxication.

. . . i ask your prayers, or good will, for M -- she is in difficulties -- in healing me I am unable to heal her in this my truth helpless without your and/or God’s will for her

Amen.

120830 04:08 joy
© 2012 by Jack Spratt All Rights Reserved

a fraud & hypocrite am I

Miles to travel by light years and in death more light years upon light years infinite. Curious about everything; the origin and meanings of love & life; all things inclusive; not just exclusive to God. 

I've spent so much time in transit: cars, walking, flying, boats/ships/yachts/dinghies; that I have come to sense myself in conveyance, when I fly commercially, on my way to Auschwitz. Add to which the Storm Troupers are now patrolling the isles. Regardless of style or class it's all to the Gates of Hell i went and now go. Back and forth since infancy wiping away any sense of home across America; a windshield wiper in a hurricane I passed.  

A fraud & hypocrite I became in early youth pretending to be okay just to survive. It took decades and enormous effort to now be less a chameleon than I was the day before. By needs the Gates of Heaven are where we finally lose our ego and gender identifications. Like those days of yore; personal valuables piled before the showers gaseous discharge or the bodies starved and worked to death piled as cord word awaiting the crematoria. 

Crimes by my parents against me forgiven but never forgotten since to forget is not to see the rape of America. I have lists of those who stole my mother & grandmother's work for pennies per button or stitch. Plus my father's estate stolen or gift to my ass hole half brother. 

Like them Bankers are the bane of all recorded cupidity. Please, if curious look up: avarice, profit & loss, electronic elections; greed. My shit list of assholes grows daily and exponentially; inclusive of the usual suspects Stock Brokers/Speculators Politicians regardless of rank from the top down, either party . . . by any basis of comparison my hypocrisy and fraud are inconsequential.

My point is that the word ass hole can be spelled asshole meaning scatocephalic or asshat the current and future posture of the congress of baboons. Please include the Judiciary in the mix since The Great Black Stain and War Criminals Clinton and Bush now Obama have driven us suicidally more so into the arms of the collectivized and institutionalized thieves Incorporated the Banks Of America. 

Could it be that the Sanhedrin had no bitch about Jesus as/being related to God but balked at his crimping their Temple profits selling sacrifices and needed a really Big One for THE BIG SHOW?

Today I was informed by my doctor's office that they had prescriptions for me to pickup? It seems the shitwits in Santa Fa (The Medical Board) decided that it would be better for me to go there than use a telephone or fax machine; to drag my weary, broke, flabby ass to the doctor's office ignoring the possibility that I might have enormous difficulty economically (no car, bus to far to walk in this current heat, unable to hire a cab and so on and on and on). Oxymoronic isn't it (shit + wit) what wit? The should all die of AIDS slowly in agony crawling to the pharmacy please; a little justice here!?

See them smiling indifferent all dressed up awaiting the shower/oven combo too. 

Do you now understand a bit better why people go postal, berserk, running amok in theaters showing movies dedicated to empower/entertain the helpless & hopeless? Essentially people with no future regardless of political lies. This is a depression; depressing isn't it.

120829 19:29 fraud & hypocrite
© 2012 by Jack Spratt All Rights Reserved

confessions of a father

Like all men common by appearance he was complex without knowing his depths. Yet to me, his first son, was oddly confident of things more personal than, in retrospect, I'd wanted to know -- yet knowing is my nature: His ideation of suicide, at or near the time of my birth -- slightly before or afterwards. The illicit abortion of my sibling; gender unknown, who haunts my life in ways unknowable; plagued. The wife and mother of me who nearly bled to death, resulting the dismissal of an unwanted child; as I was soon too soon after birth to become aware myself; unwanted.

Understand me well, there are deaths by many measures, means and kinds, the unkindness of an abandoning indifferent parent is among the worst. 

This I know by confessions and conversations of others who intimately trusted me as their friend; their confidence sacred to me. By which I came to know myself curiously blest in ways previously oblivious; like for kind. To a child, though, then unknowing, presuming myself worthy of all slander, punishment, abandoning and worse: no right to be or live at all. Merely indulged; the antics of a stray pet given temporary shelter, a foster being unaccountable attribution to the keeper.

Indifferent he witnessed savage behavior and of those he did not see remained incredulous. As well mother would ask occasionally, why this, what was that about? Mute in reply, since it was my only defense to watch her closely, the turning from mere beating to murder . . 
. . . at times holding the glowing coals by hand for too long needs a block of ice to repair, remember those? Ice Boxes? . . . 

How old I've become expecting death at any and all turnings of time or events fatal implicit/explicit between mother and myself. And why? Oh Dear God! Do I persist in rowing the ice pick in my heart, mind and soul? My eyes memory bleeding instead of weeping.

For we the broken: PTSD & Co-Dependent legions of us crippled emotionally intoxicated with greed to be known and loved accepted as we are; the hidden self grown to maturity despised, if not beaten to death; merely road kill. . . .Cut apart buried with lime, in the cesspools of time; no monument required. More or better yet to be enslaved to a would-be god-like 'parent'/pimp who sadistically cuts, kicks, abuses and rents our bodies out for the use of others; perpetually scalded in hell forever longing to die. 

Sanguine knowing myself sanguinary: slaughterous of a murderous nature or in a murderous state of mind; bloodthirsty rage against injustice of any kind; especially against children already born. All children are of God; all definitions and at any age. 

A father bereft of children now I adopt all life as my family as does God . . . i have faith so for such, i'd be willing to live or die for . . . my dragon of rage, belching and farting fire is so difficult to restrain yet so tightly saddled and bridled . . . it is best that i simply walk away and leave my irritants whole; unconsumed & unscathed.

Be well; let it be in your life, to be so beloved of God and healed

Afterword 120829 15:33 beset with slow downs, no malfunctions found yet, on my alternative desktop, I've been researching 'sanguinary' to affirm my identification with being co-dependent for years now healed & a conviction that PTSD people are similar in origin; if not in whole -- at least partially. And could, in part, explain the behavior of those who 'choose' to slay, injure or maim others acting out in public what they could not elsewhere. Seeking attention to their needs?

120829  11:15 confessions of a father
© 2012 by Jack Spratt All Rights Reserved

all my days i've searched for love

who am I to descry yesterdays or tomorrows when our today is so filled with glory exceptional oh Lord forgive my wavering the expectations against tomorrow's needs when all my days have been so blest as this day your presence all the peace i know now and forever i love You so and rest for eternity all the days of infinity. Amen . . . a prayer for M all my days rejoice again i say rejoice

surely i did not write this but awoke it written on my heart all along all my days forever so blest again I say rejoice this near moon become my sun all the light all i'll need forever blest these days and nights and morrows What a day it was yesterday and now knowing love sincere actually everything else aside all my yesterdays have become my tomorrows rejoicing

i strolled outside the moon & stars greeted me and then I knew entitled 'all my days i've searched for love' & find meaning of 'third person omniscient' note: to myself this time again remember

then

"Everything in life that we really accept undergoes a change. So suffering must become Love. That is the mystery." --Katherine Mansfield

"Human intellect is incurably abstract." --C. S. Lewis

"This sex thing. We never used to be hung up like this. Nature doesn't give little kids problems except when there's some king of an accident--like that eight-year-old South American girl that had a baby. 
But that's practically a mutation right? --Paul Zindel (Author born May 15th)

this day date time my iGoogle page on Chrome

120809 03:21 who am i
© 2012 by Jack Spratt All Rights Reserved

a few poems?

a few poems?

she elicits from me galaxies unimaginably huge playing my heart not Aeolian but a Stradivarius  my fret less fingerboard pressed in harmonies fugues savage ballads of passion self  immolating incandescent burning thru bedrock a hole in eternity Splat the infant road kill left in  a paper sack on a back country road out in the sticks run over by a car load of teenagers  tossing beer bottles out windows wake streaming in the cool spring nights Senior Prom  screaming in laughter's oblivion the child a greasy smear A giantess Empress meteors silently  crashing into an through resurrecting the child that was Surely god must like Jesus be  perfectly balance between genders for She looking like all women is to me more divine in  origin than I can speak of in meek words but speak the words nonetheless unspeakable love  nonesuch my mouth sibilant weeping eyes burning coals God can be found anywhere within  without in any form love wants the unwanted child speaks

120827 21:18 she elicits

Passing dayflies single night upon a sea passing too close the glow our life illumed each other  in fright then gone forever destinations unknowable looming on the cusp of the seas crust  tuning round this world are many others faintly glowing with life too short too distant to hail  farewell or safe home being well

120828 04:20 ships of state

burnt to a cinder unknowing in adoration prayer those answering the call "who can I send?"  with 'send me' now discover the witness is sent sans robes of authority to subvert empires  into humility and service to need not greed tunneling 

120828 04:37 kirk

within there is a garden of stones some small a few large upon which i gaze unconscious of  time their estate meditated upon those who past leaving glorious words and wonder their  behavior the only measure of glory in time a soul bled out for others or hoarded the bodies of  others

120828 04:44 truth

cloaked in ermine and purple figures of known wisdom said, "God only helps those who help  themselves" yet i shrouded in ash and rags rage and suicide find myself helpless no more  crowned content

120828 05:00 helpless

when in doubt whether to take another breathe allowing my heart to stop finally succumb to  the dumb I seek not exclusively those who purport to follow Jesus but betimes a good atheist  or jolly agnostic as well for all the facets of God's wisdom reside in far flung and astonishing  places e.g. “I have noticed even people who claim everything is predestined, and that we can  do nothing to change it, look before they cross the road." --Stephen Hawking 
& by this learn that those who purport to listen or be by God blessed are too often not.

120828 05:11 doubt

THOSE OF OTHERS

--Paul Dickson
"Rowe's Rule: the odds are five to six that the light at the end of the tunnel is the headlight of  an oncoming train."

--P. Hill
“Knowledge is Freedom: hide it, and it withers; share it, and it blooms”

--Stephen Jay Gould 
"Facts do not 'speak for themselves', they are read in the light of theory"

--Stephen Leacock 
"Advertising: the science of arresting the human intelligence long enough to get money from  it."

a triptych 27 August 2012

She's a woman of certain age with panache walking her dog daily Sometimes near sometimes Far who I've come to know from random encounters here were we live for now this Geriatric Ghetto alone save for pets in our own cribs slowly by life abandoning us alone again at last finally blest by solitude

She's leaving can't stand the oven heat of late June through July heading for the mountains nearby but too far for easy converse and I'll miss terribly her outrageous hats and humor so raucous as mine

I told her I'd follow just to prove what the bored gossip about we She laughed and said i've had enough of men and then we agreed that marriage is for kids who know nothing the glory of living alone

We're Gringos of rich background now paupers rendered so by the rulers of us yet of the manor/manners born obvious to us we who know not golden spoons but earned credibility in the finishing school of hard times then fine unalloyed value extruded

120827 08:47 celibacy

after an oddly great number and long history of sanguine cars he knew nothing of the word until a nurse called him such as Sanguine [adjective] cheerfully optimistic and at time Sanguinity [noun] bloodthirsty thus explaining from a sidereal out of left field hitting him in the head a line drive explaining much of his confusion between mercy and rendering terror Until then he just though he loved bishops red shoes and socks Ferraris Italian National Racing Red colors denoting the unique screaming v16 double overhead cam at their highest revs through curves up hills down dales flashing across straight always exhaust glowing like the gates of Hell yawning expectantly The nurse then went farther saying; "You know you put it out and take it back in?!" Until that moment he'd though himself merely a hypocrite

1208271510 sanguine

From now looking back peering forward feculent meaning aggregate lending richness to what once was imagined/intuition rehearsed/reprised the nightmare of a fifty eight hour birth for me for her and then the hell was real unbearable but survived Now seen differently and prized

120824 1629 looking back
© 2012 by Jack Spratt All Rights Reserved

sanguine adj / sanguinity n
Word History: The similarity in form between sanguine, "cheerfully optimistic," and sanguinary, "bloodthirsty," may prompt one to wonder how they have come to have such different meanings. The explanation lies in medieval physiology with its notion of the four humors or bodily fluids (blood, bile, phlegm, and black bile). The relative proportions of these fluids was thought to determine a person's temperament. If blood was the predominant humor, one had a ruddy face and a disposition marked by courage, hope, and a readiness to fall in love. Such a temperament was called sanguine, the Middle English ancestor of our word sanguine. The source of the Middle English word was Old French sanguin, itself from Latin sanguineus. Both the Old French and Latin words meant "bloody," "blood-colored," Old French sanguin having the sense "sanguine in temperament" as well. Latin sanguineus was in turn derived from sanguis, "blood," just as English sanguinary is. The English adjective sanguine, first recorded in Middle English before 1350, continues to refer to the cheerfulness and optimism that accompanied a sanguine temperament but no longer has any direct reference to medieval physiology.

In the temple sanctuary of your heart 
where your soul resides it is easy to know 
Jesus asleep or awake for he is affable
familiar a brother a friend a confidant 
and like God also there the once-upon-trinity
as we'd say in Chicago da BOMB! NO the now 
quaternity for Mary's there too virgins ALL
awake in souls celebrations dancing bliss in
4/4 time

It's only a dream boys and girls right here in River City. But being an entertainer just like Him; I'm an equal opportunity host. 

Bring up the chorus swelling in the background silence. 
Stage lights from dim to high and see all of us those who adore you as you are.

We who you call saints or prophets of any and all names speaking many voices and languages one song a hymn of thanksgiving for you just as you are. 

I remember barracks at night the voices of intimacy unknown of men speaking in their sleep a random word here then there mom, mother, grandmother a dad here then their names of women spoken of or about stated randomly across the sea of sleeping men brothers to one another a different type of lovers

Honey i'd do anything to make you laugh Twirl gently before your eyes This way and that Zooming to the rafters for a smile or smirk Instead she' watch dad & me becoming frantic over the volley of antics enacted Then at other times one word curses 'whorehouse' 'thief' and some special ones for the Undertaker who rifled Walter Irvin's private room in our home looking for money to pay for his funeral unwelcomed a pick pocket in disguise The word disremembered preceded hissing sibilant then the invisible strike him immobilized 

Where's the Holy Spirit well you might ask For The Holy Spirit is all of it; the ground, air, sea, stars crown invisible everywhere the OM of god.

no fear don't shout just speak softy the wounds of your heart
we'll hear . . . you do know maidenheads grow back?

i'm no poet but it's all i got to see the glory you've got to see it yourself

120827 0743 easy quaternity 4M
© 2012 by Jack Spratt All Rights Reserved

Coincident with cellular telephones, capable of still and motion capture, are more public eruptions of violence by ordinary civilians and security forces. My political views are impractical and slowly receding into polite conversation. As in: do not ever discuss: politics, sex, religion or civility; seriously.

That applied, generally, to cocktails and dinner but now applies across the board thanks to G. W. Bush & Osama bin Laden in their contest of wills.

Now we have slavery to any person purporting to "Save & Protect."   Giving summery execution to our freedom to record anything; much less their use of unreasonable force against anyone or anything. We now live in a Police State dictated by tyranny. Between the rich who effectively defined their ideas of what we had become until the black stain of the individuals named above. They in my estimate were and will historically remain synonymous -- call & response.

I have a particular or peculiar awareness of  Bush et al aborting the monopoly laws regarding the hoarding of information. Thus enabling the loud and extremely vocal propaganda arm of the Republican agenda. Or merely their ideal that Greed is Good and selfishness best . . . well . . . maybe blest?

Amongst a few friends it is remarked that the current GOP ticket, if elected, will set back women's rights by one-hundred to one-hundred and fifty years. But then there hasn't been a clean election in one-hundred years, if not longer.

True of me, true of them, or they who are addicted to any agenda unreasonably zealous/fanatic; merely intolerant and exclusive to their definition and control. Expect to be crucified as either constituent or photographer of either gender or gender persuasions.

A free press thus a potentially fully informed electorate is dead and so is America.

Game, set, point and match to the duo above named coupled with Rupert Murdoch as: got you by your balls boy. . . .otherwise by your short and curlies.

I had at one time a Secret Service Pass to the White House. Didn't do me a bit of good while photographing the last Republican lunatic. Once discerned I put it and my 'professional' equipment aside; returning with an 'amateur' camera sans press credentials. Getting closer to Reagan than the insider Oval Office crew. While I watched them steam I acquired what was necessary and in turning away saw a white boy with his suit jacket spread to reveal two crossed Colt revolvers; a belt buckle. Presidents don't impress me, real people do.

Don't ever tell me who you think you are, show me. Power makes everyone crazy, me too. The difference is between giving harm or giving forgiveness unto those who harm

120826 0333 wild wild west out there
© 2012 by Jack Spratt All Rights Reserved

from a friend, life long, who I do not include in my general spread of people whose attention I solicit since she asks too many and pointed questions being the good child of Germany she is and not my wife though I longed for her
still do but don't have the time for loving just one but all of us

 At times I need reminding that not all share my sense of truths apparent. I live alone with the best companion and confident I will ever know in life; myself. Annie, my cat companion, helps in that she loves me regardless of my behavior, thoughts or dreams. It was for her that I aborted further medical attention returning home in agony, growing by the moment until, unbearable. At that I laugh thinking wouldn't it be wonderful for her to live off my corpse until someone noticed the stink saving her?

The dream I woke with is troubling in the extreme. Definitely not a nightmare but consideration of a complex symphony regarding economy, cause and effect, and what we face as the world population swells. 

Does the butterfly in Brazil moving its wings affect me? I think so for at some point yesterday I considered, briefly that the water we have, is all the water that will ever be. If I laugh about it saying that we're drinking pee recycled though a complex filter; mostly the agency of trees. And in Brazil the forest primeval are being harvested wholesale to make way for people to exercise many various and competing needs.

I have several personal concerns and regrets stemming from my childhood. The first is being false to myself in order that I survive the rigors of my parent's concerns I be able to function and thrive or merely survive in their absence. For the most part they parked me with my maternal grandmother and otherwise ignored me until I did or did not do something to provoke their attention; at which point the humiliation, pain, suffering was beyond mention here.

That is the past; remaining for me, a museum of experiences from which I derive a sense of our communal experience. The what & why. Concluding, in a humble way, how to fix that. Were it so simple to fix what took years to built. The issue of healing raises its head and there are no magic bullets; no wooden stake driven through heart of a dying corpse.

Seen in obverse/reverse the lessons learned are now obvious and good. An education superceding anything I could ever afford in University. What changed that? The choice to no longer be a victim.

M is an experienced and trained psychologist coupled with an extraordinary wisdom, vast beyond even my imagining; a colossus hugely larger than the Sphinx I call her . . . something she seems to take delight in my description of her. I mention this by way of preface to her illustration that all violations of a child's inherent intentions, exclusive of what or which family the child is given life, are rape. We as people individually should nor ought to be slaves to anyone or thing; yet we are.

Read closely the fine print finding the devil in the details for that status symbol you can't live without. Possibly I attempt to expiate being hung from the ceiling by my nose with either fish hooks or the fangs of a viper. For what? For using such time as remains of my life to more fully record my thoughts, inspirations and concerns. What I believe Steve Jobs meant when he said, "make a ding in the universe."

For long I stood immune from the chaos recorded via photography. When I taught it was not photography, still or motion, but the nature of perception; what I called then: 'seeing what you are looking at.'

Finding myself happily alone, save for Annie, my family dead or dead to me I adopt all others outside of my sphere of influence based upon the school of hard knocks. In which I believe I deserve a doctoral. Yet I know and have know many who deserve better than that. For what or why they confided in me, what I used to call confessional, sacred to me, their trust; I have impetus to continue this chronicle of personal evolution; nakedly transparent. 

In childhood my mind, consciousness or soul was like a mortar and pestle. The mortar being more a sieve, though which essential parts could pass leaving behind a body for them to molest. And this metaphor accurately describes my experience of witnessing life pass from the body of my beloved son; and all subsequent deaths since. I know not in this life were the soul goes after departing the package that carried it -- I think M knows better but won't tell me. Like God she allows me the grace of free will and finding a true direction/vocation; a what and why to live or die for.

We both, M&I 'preach' tolerance. And for myself alone, I intuit, I do not, never have, thought Islam an enemy but the other, which ever is cleanest hand, clasp in mine brothers spiritually. 

To close this discursive inspiration; what bubbled up top, this brew, were two words: Avarice & Usury which upon close examination explained much of the troubled dream to me.

These words, their definition, incarnation, use and abuse, were never discussed in my education. Yet define principal differences between cultures. But then, as I am too well aware, there are many significant gaps missing in the material presented in public schools.

Regarding education I no longer define myself by gender, education, or employment but being human and a citizen of the Universe; not one nation or another. The only bottled water I use is for my Lucky Bamboo, chlorine would kill it. Otherwise I filter tap water for drinking, etc.

Speaking of trees. Try thinking of yourself as the tree of knowledge becoming the tree of life; from one mustard seed many mustard trees can grow. Don't take life too seriously nor rush to the grave, no one gets out alive. As for bankers, I think they need to be restrained.

Be well, be excellent & be love

120827 00:53 dream
© 2012 by Jack Spratt All Rights Reserved