who & what & why

Old to most, a baby considered by a few, remaining more like road kill than youth; I am what I am and that is enough. Suffice to say that with each turning day my sense of self becomes less important given all that I see in the diminishing of me from such a great distance away beginnings now near ending.

Easily swayed by those I allow in the virginity of my soul/self/mindfulness, I remember better the words of a few than the many. And possibly Vladimir Nabokov’s thesis that few consider the before while anguished over the after of life. From where to whence with small wonder of why or how.

Packed rats is what we’ve become, the many of us, vastly, by at least a third over capacity on earth. Enslaved by those whose competition to be the epitome of fame, fortune and success holds us beneath the surface of the cesspool they’ve made of life. 

Discerned long ago in the 60’s I call it as stated; but a clinical term; “Population Stress Syndrome,” better explains the phenomenon of random violence to me. Of evil I could speak endlessly having known my own maunders towards retaliation of which it seems now inevitable given the goiter of greed sucking all the children, homes and future into it’s maw. You ain’t seen nothing yet.

Sympathy states ‘I see,’ while empathy experiences your pain . . . yet cannot suffer it. In some small sense this is a prayer for all the women abused for being such. And for us, the we, the family of mankind; helpless to forestall or prevent or mend the consequence. 

For myself I would easily choose to leave and make room for the succeeding generations yet note with sincere sadness the number of educated, well endowed and intended, who refuse not only to marry, nor to mate or procreate. It amuses me to ponder my own origins and the length of time it has taken me to get over being white, middle-class, from Greenwich, Connecticut and enter a place of peace loving one and all the prey and predator.

Am I true patriot of the cosmos? I wonder. For I have no passport or identifying tattoos to tell me where or why or how I become such. 

. . . continued 21:56
At times I simply wander away, attending tasks or distracted. And in time sense I should curl into a fetal ball betwixt floor and corner sucking my thumb. Seeing myself as simpleton verses simplistic . . . seeking a vantage point, an overview, detached from the plague of greed America has become.

121229 14:04 who & what & why
© 2012 by Jack Spratt - All Rights Reserved