121015 04:36 divided
Divisions between men and women are difficult enough; in and of themselves.
During my last tooth cleaning I stopped the young woman's hand to say; "One more thing! You are well rid of a man who would only use you now in youth for his pleasure and seek another later on. We men never grow up. I am not attempting to seduce you; being old enough to be your father; or worse your grandfather! It is only that it has taken me seventy-two-years to gain the wisdom I've just given you.”
She, laughed.
Though in abandoning her he also withdrew support for their two young sons and is currently living at home with his parents?
Retrospectively I realize I preach wherever I go without ordination or seminary. I am free to be a clown, or jester, to gain the attention of women: Our majority oppressed, abused and enslaved part of the global community.
Being a "Bastard Catholic," an Episcopalian, catholic sans Pope. I am now less divided between sophistry for love and being a poet.
121016 00:01 reality
I just awoke with a sense of being vitally/virtually zero. Aware that I am, to myself, not a legend; or anything. Not an author, or blogger, but just another life; well aware that I am at, or near the end, of all that I've known as "my" reality. This endgame part of the play has a distinct movement in the musical sense like a concerto. Or as a play; the closing act.
Smiling. I realize that I love the generations following mine because I am conscious now that all the preceding generations faced the same issues; or those who follow will or might. It is wonderful to be anonymous and I no longer need or be greedy for another, one or many, to say “Oh Jack! You are a genius or I want your attention and your body be my lover;” or whatever.
I love calling myself "Lurch." For several reasons. Principally: by age I am losing my sense of inherent balance. Both physical and mental--More laughter at myself--Laughter being the divine antidote to death.
Mine of course.
My ridicule of anyone, deserved or not, is as consequent as barking at the moon. However I will share this for your delectation and edification IT gets more better:
Life it self; is it's own reward.
To be nothing; receiving the slings and arrows and vicissitudes as St. Sebastian did, dying and/or resurrecting or reincarnating in another form. Let's say for the humour of it; as a cockroach or wild boar/bore. Or more specifically, in my experience and expectations: a nest of dead baby pigeons, is to so love God (you do know by now that God is real, not just a figment of my aberrant abnormal imaginings?) is really worth/worthy of all my attention and devotion! More so, than my just stubbed toe! Or the coral snake beneath my pillow; or between Cleopatra's lovely succulent breasts.
That said, of God or M, I so love both either or neither together or apart that it is irrelevant what sex or not they are. I had conceptualized that M might be my my son Randy or daughter Johanna infeasible due to periodicity but the ideal of love is worthy of all power and glory; and so either way, or neither, it works for me in real flesh and blood terms.
I laugh about those who seek to know God by reason of insanity/logic/science etc. Infusing mice with "Saint Drugs." When an ignoramus, ignoble, fool such as I; can laugh at the entire history of civilization. You know I'm just like God nominally/nearly/neither? And I don't have to pay BIG PHARMA a fig or cent for their prostituting humanity as guinea pigs: who me? Of course me! Why not be crucified for profit so some other asshole can have another Escalade? It is merely quantum physics we all have none at least for your sake I hope so those colostomy bags are a pain and humiliating to empty. “Reekiness” is a phrase that either Randy or I invented, or coined he also said “peeju” but me thinks that’s his mother’s word. In either, or all, or most cases; what I think when I think about or see certain persons who know themselves scatocephalic. Why would I tell them when I would not trust them to take my sandals to the cobbler to repair the sundry broken strap? Or merely to dust them? For too me there are like in appearance a one million dollar bill making of itself a dog turd.
Oh Sweet Leaping Jesus, doing somersaults over the Himalayas; am I glad I’m not at hospice anymore. Like the army, I wouldn’t take a million to go back and do it again or over again. In the case of hospice; I’d not take a trillion seven times a trillion to go back.
Knots measured at sea tied, in why they call Samuel L. Clemens “Mark Twain.” Well folks the rope with the knots incinerated my hands, my mind, my self/soul/soles and went up in a gnat fart; no wisp of smoke--nothing no thing left.. I've left this ship of fools with all the prancing naked pretenders who would be imperious as Hitler before God in an endless Woodstock, the movie, seeing each soul destroying him.
I understand that the assholes in congress of baboons voted themselves a congratulatory raise while strangling the world with bankruptcy. Shit-for-Brains: one and all. Odd they could agree on that! I guess the Robber Barons are going broke too 2 two in tutus?
Insane? Of course I am! Making the same mistake over and over of loving you; much less god or M. It is my will for you; that you love yourself and then conspire with all the Saints and Angels and Goddesses and God-like women/men people who respond on Culture Book.Com. Anything less is merely a cesspool of commericality, fame, fortune, greed, cupidity, pretence, illusion oh well what the hevean why bother going on? Vanity is limitless.
I adore the image of Romney and Ryan clinging together in a cesspool of their own greed. Attempting not the swallow their own waste; much less the waste of women they would castrate. Setting Women's Rights back to the time of The Great Plague. Possibly, maybe, maybe not, they should just line up all women before the sea and destroy them like the Al-Qaeda dudes in Pakistan.
It used to be, when writing, I'd become frantic not to lose a single impulse or inspired thought/idea. Now, however I feel free to pee whenever, too often, the need arises. It follows that occasionally when idle I seek http://www.ighome.com/ my new 'home page' and the scuttlebutt there. Leading me to the following confession. Looking back, forward and at now.
I would say/think mommy/daddy made me do it. Whatever I concluded; it always was being victim to power. Now that I love God and will do whatever God suggests I am squarely placed upon my own recognisance to lay up or let loose whatever is within my responsibility and ability to change. It took me too long to be here, now, as I am. Yet in Randy or Johanna's cases; they knew God long before I did/do/now. My long past/dead son and daughter, plus the one who refuses to let me wish her happy birthday November 5th.
To be a teacher, once and always, is to be more noble than priest or pope. In that to teach someone to love themselves is precisely what God does for me. Note: tense: does, not did: it is a process not a magical drug or pill or miracle. God within, God without, surrounding; all invisible. How did I--or we--miss this? By idolatry and cult. Religion and those who purport to serve the public: should be taxed, possibly more than the average joe or jane, heavily. They have become not benign but malevolent killing more than creating love.
God to, for, by me can be any Goddamn self or thing, object/subject; God wants to be. Add, and I am, fine with that. Better, or more better than that: at peace, in joy, ecstatic to finally reconcile the 6 Million Jews and all those intelligentsia destroyed by Joseph Stalin; hereafter known as the 60 Million.
How many years after touching the hand, of the hand, that touched Thomas Merton's hand, did it take me to realize that I should have taken off his shoes and kissed his toes? The Dalai Lama.
©2012 by Jack Spratt - All Rights Reserved
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