sauntering outside my apartment semi-naked not caring the night oblivious passersby -- i fell to wondering the wandering sky pin pricked by tinny lights traveling and sensed were Jesus a star He'd be far brighter than i by orders of magnitude incomprehensible since I like him came from earth clay no dust motes aggregated by water over which all wars are fought
& winter is also a season of love for soon upon us will i wonder where the heat went or still wander the sidewalk infront of my apartment semi-naked and oblivious of potential voyuers . . . & then she was a woman I asked to sleep with me upon first meeting become a best friend without benifits now housed by a layised Priest who loves her as I do -- oh my goodness, oh My GOD! -- today's her birthday!!!!???!! & despite bells & whistles & cyclones prayed for to remind me I reamined oblivious swiming in my nakedness and dreams self-obssessed. Veins and vails and vanities run deeper sometimes than we can guess & as for myself i realized that Jesus is nearer than i am to myself total eclipse of me by Him whom I love unreasonably as i have always yet at times similar to this forgotten Him his everyday birthday life death and resurrection all in one day over and over and over ad infinitum so blest to be in His shadow eclipsed even at noon. . . . or a bit of snark: @ 12:00 The Fouth of July Coney Island Beach with trillions.
I have no interest in posterity for myself, yet for my infinitesimal audience else where: Coney Island is a famous and once fabulous amusement park where the first electrocution occurred; of a rouge elephant enormous; giggling/jiggling death dancing upon tipsy toes. Cannot remember which burrow but it is close, too close to the center of snark and theft Wall Street where once a dude named Spratt was resident the alms keeper accused -- probably true -- of stealing from the poor . . . it seems nothing changes! Oh S__t! I've been told by my maternal grandmother via an article from an edition 1922 possibly no latter than 1929, New York Herald Tribune, when stock brokers sailed themselves from upper floors to see if they could fly like paper-airplanes & latter on Osama ben Laden figured it out to crash our commerical transit industry into the nearby Cathedral of Theif . . . The International Trade Towers or something like that . . . thus crashing our vainity into total constipation of terror . . . .
. . . and killing nearly millions of Iraqis whose Army might have kept the warring factions, mostly tribal, in check. Actually. The last time I read: --Tom Feeley Information Clearing House Newsletter News You Won't Find On CNN "If you know yourself, then you know all people." “Let Us Work Towards Peace And Joy”
http://www.informationclearinghouse.info/
. . . the figures were approximately 1.8 million citizens whose sovereignty we violated in or by false accusations.
. . . i love poetry since it gives me licence to hide my disabilities beneath or behind or under the rocks of my ignorance of gamer, spelling, diagramming sentences, myths, metaphors, omens and portents or merely the ruin and runes of my wounded heart.
Or.
Possibly.
Maybe/maybe not.
. . . a jackanapes reply to the parables of Jesus?
Obviously dyslexic = reading disorder = why I so readily accepted the diagnosis of being bipolar coupled with my sense of being unworthy of life lent by my mother and affirmed by my father's indifference; by M's definition: equivalent rape and abuse & of any authority she would know given her years of experience in forensic psychology. On a whim or hunch I stopped taking the psycotropic drugs only confessing it after six weeks of abstenance. She then forwarded survey information detailing the actual success rate of 13% acuracy. To the best of my knowledge neither vast nor detailed, but by experience considerable; there is no definitive test to determine if one is in fact bipolar. Doctor's and BIG PHARMA, INC. have a vested interest in selling products = greater profit from product than time. Both have a "LICENCE" to practice but the issue for me and millions of other people is that we are being used as test subjects, like Guinea pigs or lab rats for their proof & profit.
I am not a fiction writer. Sometimes, maybe a poet? As a journalist I like all my peers are hampered by "NEED TO KNOW SECRECY." Thus disabled to communicate truths inconvenient to people who profit from abusing the public in general. Add the politicians who cry "MENTALLY ILL" at those of us who blow away people with machine guns; just ordinary everyday citizens running amok with lethal firearms so plentiful that we are the most heavily armed and violent nation on the planet.
120922 04:38 season of love
© 2012 by Jack Spratt - All Rights Reserved
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