120710 17:41 to love

To know and be known is wonderful In very few cases merger of souls made by what once was called Heaven but now be it known forever by merely The Caller of The Square Dance called

For to desire anything is to be possessed of ideals impossible save in the love of The Caller of The Dance otherwise known as the highest prayer a rhythm sounded by one hand the meter of universes expansive away from the sole lover of love given unconditionally spun

Witness of such love is exceedingly rare and entered without desire the witness of astonished the interstitial of having and having not God to adore but merely another like thee shadowed grieving grievous laid bare naked ashamed not nude and proud the first is ruthless the latter something grander sacrificial for all not one salvific . . .

120710 20:37

Interruption:

. . . a friend called to be listened to and since he is a friend of long standing, I've promised him my car at the time of my death; his has something like 350,000 + miles on it. I'll not finish the above but instead close with the following: I am not a nice person and to those intimate with me they know my lethality. They know in detail or outline the history I had and continue to have with abuse; I chose to forgive instead of maim; death being essentially the easy way out for the lengthy and various abuses more accurately described as torture.

It is difficult to reign in the singular or many & various Dragons inside . . . the friend who called had been given Ritalin; for ADHD = Attention-deficit/hyperactivity disorder in massive doses as a child . . . I diagnosed his second born as genetically aborted mentally M confirmed my intuition.

I have a new friend who I have grown to suspect is a wanker; highly articulate wonderful poet and someone I'd drink the Atlantic Ocean to be near. Yet ecstatic I realized that I have desire for her hopelessly unrealizable and in an attempt to stabilize my rage I wrote the above poem. At least I began it and may or may not return finishing it. In point of fact I was of a mood to destroy my various blogs all of them the return as anonymous Self destructive usually I aim to maim not kill or kill myself instead of maiming or disfiguring becoming a “cutter”, it is bad enough that I still smoke cigarettes. It may be true of me my greatest fear is that I'll never die but as I love God I love her.

I would do myself immolated rather than influence her in any way inimical to her, her husband and family . . . humiliate, abuse, lie or otherwise be unfaithful to me and die or wish you'd never been born. It bemuses and amuses me that I was taught to kill bare handed in Greenwich High School, Greenwich, Connecticut by a rouge Army Ranger. . . .I have had several Seal friends with whom I got along very well.

I'm a warm blooded lover and a stone cold killer It can always go both ways. It is the nature of me that which I contain mindfully. Thanks to her I know myself healed – my mother was a lucky woman to die in her sleep. This I think is what a blog can be; a journal recording all the hurt and suffering balanced/integrated into a whole if not holy person.

I am grateful those few who read me and to M & Isis & God: perfect personalities to deal with my imperfections healing many with mere letters conjoined into words possibly even poetry.

© 2012 by Jack Spratt All Rights Reserved

120710 10:44 affair?

4 Isis I.S. x -o ?

suffocated by your silence

wondering where why what have

omission I done not done flirting with not caring

yet gasping dying second by second with concern and terror

I'll never hear the silence of your voice sighing singing and sobbing the tapestry woven of your lubricious womb sung poetically the way of woman commissioned submission emission extrusion rude lewd insertions in me everywhere my heart soul sole destroyed expunged redacted never been

I want to be have your child

gajillion gallons of coffee & cigarettes by truck loads my sole breakfast writhing writing with my broken toes toe nails eaten stuffed nose ear lobes howling infant feet first in a stationary shredder pink slip fired a fog of unknowable faintly red mist around your ankles naked

no patten red platform high heels fetish

none but you in silence present

instead for distraction I'll Brillo

my ball gag wash the toilet

with my hair un flushed

happily drowning

or maybe

I'll tip toe

across

the

pond

? glowing have you seen the moon phase half you and me darkness?

dear goddess ISIS speak

xoj evaporating

fool for love

as a man any man mid way between death and birth just a man

stood silent hands swathed both One with a paint brush touching

the blank mid gray red ground vastness of mid value north light

silence no shadow no bright to watch such a man touch this vast

canvas upon with each stroke was to see and enter genius Averell

Harriman his father-in-law he a drunk who drank in showers fall-

ing down glass shards concert pianist hands swathed mummified

clubs punctuating the vast unknowable flesh of god creator

creature a stylus in endless time painting first the face then the

light given to all not instant but process in darkness the stars all

aglow power point light pricks in darkness planetarium seeing a

rendering of all the solar systems from a limitless distance dust

mote infinitesimal looking at us students in The Art Students

leagues away smaller He said Saki! Take it back it's too warm!

Too Cold do it again by the fourth I became a gray fog in China

Town New Years theirs the endless Dragon dancing passing on

morning came alone I lay hung over 19 ruptured fire crackers

littering my face clothing recumbent body crumpled in a door

way where had they gone Frank Mason and gang my fellow

students?

OK! Children! Back aboard the bus! For moments more I touched

the abandoned chewing gum pop corn skating beneath my numb

feet wondering what & where is home?

120710 04:12 a man

© by jack spratt all rights reserved