120722 19:27 time

I measure time by several conceptions mostly solar the seasons of the sun for I am by heart, viscera and soul a pagan and those definitions of god backward before time was a concern or consciousness measurable--nothing discernible of their passing before mine.

Winter solstice nadir of my life churning change my emotional year surviving which I know another annum is mine. I dance before bonfires howling my plea for life the sun's return and time both precious to me yet greater so is truth; like all life I have seasons, a time to be born, a time to live by whatever measure short or long and a time to die.

I sense an urgency now on rushing my seventy-second-year coupled with a feeling, more a conviction, an apprehension that while intercourse is sacred to me I've not known a woman who shared my devotion such worship this celebration of life so plebeian unwashed by sanction of any kind yet why are we here standing upon the bones and souls who engendered us this species monkey amphibian or divine yet a mendicant monastic ribald covertly & sensuously erotic am I bereft a mate so inclined.

Truth be told from soul mate backwards in my time I've made love to mother, sister, playmates of the sandbox kind not centerfold. In that regard unlike still life paintings the artist is not allowed to consume the fruit normally after depiction. By my conception of myself I remain a rutting snuffling growling beast covered with hair my club laying beside me for any other competing beast seeking to eat my dove.

What is by necessity rapid the mating of mice frantic or languorous when time and circumstance allows followed by orgasmic slumber to arise and do it all over again harder.

Ardor in time ebbs finding myself barefoot upon the sands of an hourglass headed for oblivion. I realize that celibacy has it own rewards. The peace of solitude comes to mind. In innocent guile sallying forth to public congress making love to souls oblivious my coupling with their minds gamed hearts sole reward slowly ticking towards the final and fatal tock.

In gratitude for M & Isis the best hours of joy I've ever known brightening the new year longer by day afterward then the third longer again;

Love, Osiris

© 2012 by Jack Spratt All Rights Reserved

--Ambrose Bierce

BABE or BABY, n. A misshapen creature of no particular age, sex, or

condition, chiefly remarkable for the violence of the sympathies and

antipathies it excites in others, itself without sentiment or emotion.

There have been famous babes; for example, little Moses, from whose

adventure in the bulrushes the Egyptian hierophants of seven centuries

before doubtless derived their idle tale of the child Osiris being

preserved on a floating lotus leaf.

Love: A temporary insanity curable by marriage.

Pray: To ask the laws of the universe to be annulled on behalf of a single petitioner confessedly unworthy.

120722 08:55 I'm a whore

I'm a whore for words & logic; here for the use and abuse of anyone with the fare to rent me by hour, day or lifetime.

What I'm about to say is horrific even to me. For your freedom I'd do or say anything not because God said so but look closely at the fine print in your contract issued at birth: This Magical eventually Adult Amusement Park Fantasy Tour; look for the clause that details death & Free Will . . . the hard part in small print is the details.

Everything we think do or consume has consequent cause and effect rippling outward into infinity; even sticking your head up your ass in terror awaiting the nightmare this hell we live in to disappear. We are all donuts you see as defined by Quantum Physics what goes in either end hopefully maybe always will come out. God has no hands no mouth no arms no feet is sexy but in an asexual way only we get to practice making babies for our pleasure. Do you think the Holy One cares sticky sheets or keyboards? Get a life and live it dying in the grace of love and forgiveness including yourself on the laundry list. God is not an idol nor was Jesus, Buddha and so on etc. Bobble heads to glow in the dark on the dashboard of your conveyance or convenience whether a fuelish Sports Utility Behemoth covered in the skin of good Islamic or Christian children bad enough for Nazi cars but in your case its brain's, blood, vomit eternal miladies unimaginable no hands flippers instead holes in their heads drilled by your neighbor who doesn't like your definition of God.

When we create lovingly anything of all the possible directions we can go. Think not of art or who will pay the highest price but the peace and tranquility of sewing a patch on your child's dungarees or transforming raw food into nourishment or making a child or merely touching another as friend in peace and love.

I am not a nice person whatever that vacuous word – nice ­-- means to you. I am not even nice to myself and I know nice for what it is and is not.

In a profound sense I fling my first born into the midnight well hearing no splash. Looking downward by the aid of a full moon I don't even see the bubbles of my child downing, just still placid water mirroring my silhouette . . . you know writing a journal is self vivisection . . . and in horror not only for my son and two daughters gone but that brief moment when I told my Great Mother Mamalu laying in a hospital bed I thought dying attributable to a failed pace maker – needing a battery – that I'd become Episcopalian too Catholic by half judging by what she'd said during our lifetime before. She was pleased?!?! When I got over being overwhelmed I asked what her favorite Bible phrase was: Gospel of John 3:16 “God gave his only begotten son . . . ”

. . . for what crime did he die that we should enjoin continual murder to prove what?

More ___________________ name it, claim it, for what are you willing to live and and die for?

Good, Better, Best works only for merchants of death.

Previous or last lunch with M; time that precious and willing to accept at our or any age the preciousness of time. I'd confessed a desire to make love with a woman once before I die . . . not looking for candidates -- just a statement of truth . . . she said; “Yes that's good.”

If I could be for anyone or other or all what she is now to me given all the love we make in public over plastic tables . . . I'd remain celibate.

Love is what we give not what we take and of such love did Jesus die.

Let it be that such love lives in thee. Neither God nor I do revisions of history but ask and be forgiven and redeemed. . . it is love's truth

Slang cuss swear rap hip hop all poetry too or as well who knew Maya Angelou thinks William Shakespeare was a black woman 2 I adore them both James Baldwin why I write.

PS http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=fuelish

© 2012 by Jack Spratt All Rights Reserved

120722 0511 lemmings

My mind reading

a small skipping stone

hurled across the vast still pond

a universe twirling seeming still a pond

at night all the stars plankton glowing curiosity

hurled the stone of me seeking the who of God why

death where of You & why oh why do I accelerate in the

stillness of your belly never slowing of entropy accelerating and fracturing into more plankton stars

None of us were ever born to be slaves the stars of our pearls gobbled by pigs and goats who'll eat anything to fill their emptiness

Lick my Library Card knowing me digestible only by the teacher of me mating asexually the knowing of the making of you the who is beyond knowing my daily bread not stones above my head in Arlington seeing always the wrong side of the grass a knowing the only ending story the end of war and finally fatally falling upon the head stone of Emily of Amherst of Dickinson knowing of Rumi not beware the final fatal audience with The Lion of God

What woman could bear my laughing out loud crying sighing screaming shouting glowing levitated in the looming pearlescent predawn when I stop breathing for a time maybe forever the interstice between life and origin and end infinitesimal who will I be next time

All dialog seems about for or against something but seldom is in itself just is or is about itself

The function of journal keeping is to hear and love yourself finding threads backwards and forwards to infinity . . . in a sense to become the sovereign self you were created to be. Of course I mean The Creator of Everything . . . yes . . . you and me and all of us conscious that we belong to one another of us without recompense no gratuity required. The genius of god is within and only pain as small as a mustard seed or grain of sand can begin the formation of the Pearl inherent in all: many songs stories poems to the one Audience who in thanksgiving replies in one voice speaking in many tongues not babble but love. Only fear drives love into vengeance and judgment like pigs and goats eating everything compelled like lemmings to leap into the abyss never caught using us instead of themselves as surrogates.

Serve not emperors self proclaimed naked empty egos prancing about obscenely Serve the servant of we small kings and queens who in serving us pours out the holy grail for us. Pass forward the loving cup of yourself and be eternally filled with love stupid . . . as in keep it simple stupid.

I think the resurrection is within all of us who in giving virgin birth to our self/soul/consciousness can become part of the solution not the problem

remember the Buddhist sacrifice themselves by fire to protest the rape of their divinity To close I entered rest last night wondering had I known the death of my children impossible of course would I do again? Yes. For them for God for us life is for the living and the dead know God better than I until in death I meet face to face love not vengeance.

07:52 pause for breakfast

Different perspective same issues different facets. In essence what I suggest is not for everyone this self birth incarnating your true self. The true self can only be known and defined by you: sovereignty.

It is a process unlike Mr. Romney's lies about jobs, political lies and no speak. The man for the job is in place and should no longer be discriminated against for his race or possible choice how to define or ignore God nor for his non-participation the the school of that most obscene thing for becoming a professional politician.

There are many who call themselves democratic who are in reality autocratic in the following sense while guaranteeing themselves freedom from concern for income, giving themselves raises in a time of economic collapse, lifetime health care of the best available denying it to those they purport/pretend to represent while taking massive amounts of money from those who profit hugely no longer suggesting but dictating policy which we pay for with not only tax dollars but our lives and souls . . . the entire incorporation as we know it is based upon the 14^th Amendment intended to keep free the slaves by sophistry became the ability to enslave us . . . I could argue either point of view.

I remain angry that a teacher told me, “there are certain things I cannot teach by your parents and politician's choice” before that epiphany I had argued the side of selfishness.

I am not the Messiah we are.

I wish I knew how to write not just why. This being a witness to our time never really worked for me while witnessing and/or carrying those dying dead in my arms or dragging them out of harms way. A flabby saggy clown I am and laughter is my best birth defect.

© 2012 by Jack Spratt All Rights Reserved