do i imply a certain knowing of the divine? if so you should know that i am nothing special equal to you unique more special and all life reverenced rage abandoned as it should be walked away from as I now have since the leaving was inevitable before my ending in death a last attempt at redemption  forgiveness for self trashing even that i now rejoice in since it has taught me final lessons now thinking it my rage as baggage a sort of self righteous wealth making it impossible to pass through the eye of the needle of which at times staring into the starry crown of the heavens a twinkle that was for me then the eye of the needle all wide open and should i live an hour or day months longer than decades I will remain at this portal unknowing the intentions for me writ by God. . . .before as St. John said of the word; the Logos?

Could it be as it should be by my faith that we individually are parts of the resurrection? Some nearly whole but never so since there is only one Jesus infinite in time without measure sometimes i see him as just a scrawny Jewish kid murdered by his own time and the Leaders of Israel the crowd the people shouting for His humiliation naked upon the cross in death pissing and shitting himself they manipulated by those who lead He never as reproduced on Baptist Sunday School walls blonde blue eyed Arian but more nearly Negroid black and beautiful could be God actual playing the role of His/Her son i sit naked at the feet of those who inform me by words loving not killing me they of uncertain race gender or creed sexual proclivities or not none of my business and not in my job description better defined daily not so much by love notes but what you say of your ordinary truths lived and died by in flesh and blood bled

God or Higher Power or The All is everywhere like electricity yet i've been sold that should I want to be nicely toasted I have to get into the toaster of course by the merchant/businessman/politician who owns the toaster and franchise brand name definition of who what where why when God is. Yet in listening to you and reading the quotes I know differently since God is in each and everyone of us not in kind by different by degrees of attention and petition

quid pro quo measure for measure the laborer worthy of hire by whom? Usury rules the day now those who profit from the consumption of those who sweat by those who don't and now that the they don't has lost the farm, the water, the earth, the sky, the sea polar bears drowning we're supposed to rescue them? Say thank you for all your theft?

We the meek will inherit what's left and share amongst us the surplus fishes and loaves. While they drown in the sea of red ink undivided. When they are meek we'll share our love with them better.

Forgive me my trespass this infliction of rumination for our current commonwealth leading no one into evil?

. . . idle hands and minds rejoiced in will lead us to the truth

120907 10:37 impending
© 2012 by Jack Spratt - All Rights Reserved

go goole yourself a psalm for greed

my under toad rage leaping over Andromeda is finally seen for itself the flip side of self indifference rendering all my compassion for others an act no different from Rush Limbaugh a pleasure the praise received but despising myself indifferent to death welcoming it in deed since i'm fraud coral snake under the duvet in bed with outrageousness no different than G. W. Bush or Fox fucking your mind television. 

In the company of women who tend the dying we laugh at the future not theirs ours and they heal my greed for someone else to define myself by saying to them i'll buy a hand grenade wearing it like a pendant by the pin instead of jerking the pin with my teeth like John Wayne i'll merely fall face down to cover the explosion after jerking the grenade off my chain we laugh rolling around the nurses station floor separately knowing it takes twenty years to die of Alzheimer prefaced by dementia i wouldn't do that to Rupert Murdock the King of Snark crushing the economy with cupidity brainwashing all the kiddies with gleeful belittling any and everything not skewed to selfishness a journalist retired no longer constrained by ethics or morals to be neutral i'm not evil he's not evil we're just addicted to different definitions of power equally intoxicated our bliss is more never enough what you see is what you get pass it forward and be well this 24/7/365 no privacy world Googled knowing everything we'd hide from ourselves in shame. 

". . A neologism arising from the popularity and dominance of the eponymous search engine, the American Dialect Society chose it as the "most useful word of 2002." It was added to the Oxford English Dictionary on June 15, 2006, and to the eleventh edition of the Merriam-Webster Collegiate Dictionary in July 2006.[5] The first recorded usage of google used as a participle, thus supposing the verb, was on July 8, 1998, by Google co-founder Larry Page himself, who wrote on a mailing list: "Have fun and keep googling!"

Fearing the genericizing and potential loss of its trademark, Google has discouraged use of the word as a verb, particularly when used as a synonym for general web searching. On February 23, 2003, the company sent a cease and desist letter to Paul McFedries, creator of Word Spy, a website that tracks neologisms. In an article in the Washington Post, Frank Ahrens discussed the letter he received from a Google lawyer that demonstrated "appropriate" and "inappropriate" ways to use the verb "google". It was reported that, in response to this concern, lexicographers for the Merriam-Webster Collegiate Dictionary lowercased the actual entry for the word, google, while maintaining the capitalization of the search engine in their definition, "to use the Google search engine to seek online information" (a concern which did not deter the Oxford editors from preserving the history of both "cases"). On October 25, 2006, Google sent a request to the public requesting that "you should please only use 'Google' when you’re actually referring to Google Inc. and our services."

. . . i'm not here to be Like(d) having deleted my Facebook account. Why should I bite the hand that feeds me the swiftest suggested spellings in the world? Why not? I know the engine without the spying and recording and selling of my privacy for the drool of killer watch dogs silently policing my thoughts anticipating my intentions and longings for love of God. What we love is commensurate with what loves us back. Daily am i a greasy smear on the Bus Of God passing moment by moment as God will do for you; that's why I don't care what or how the know me better than myself since I publish every vagrant thing about myself inappropriately to let you know it's okay to be who you are all of you yourself is blest any and everything known no child cut apart and buried in the basement of your mind or chained to the floor for your random torture and insertions or sold in slavery to Arab Oil Sheiks who know when the oil runs out they'll have the biggest useless sandbox ever imagined. We're never well or better than the secrets we keep and the governance of us is all secret even the brand toilet paper stamped so before & after use USA forever!

Google yourself and keep your library card up to date.

120907 0855 indifference
© 2012 by Jack Spratt - All Rights Reserved

imperfect for a purpose seeking acceptance as we are; never get it until we meet the reality of God.

Jesus! 

Why'd it take me so long to figure that out? I'm the most imperfect person I know humiliatingly so. 

Lila didn't say so but demonstrated it not over but through the telephone which are dangerous since now if cellular they know not only who you are but where and who you love like or hate. Walking Talking Dead People wherever they are at any time of 24/7/365 those vehicles photographing your house we now know they collect you name, bank account, who and why you do everything off Ur WIFY (sic) intentional WIFI

More better than that THEY know everything and sell the information indiscriminate to anyone with the price they carriers think appropriate. e.g. My Medical Insurance Company, the CIA, NSA, FBI, THE LOCAL POLICE well swell anyone you can think of who thinks they want to or need to know KNOWS!

SO

When Jane calls Jim saying Spot want's to play say I'll met you at 6 six being a viable code for the dumpster behind Walmart and the folks who needy/greedy/wantingly to know everything will not know the code. Fuck Big Brother in the Ears. It is not y/Me/<>U subversive seditious but the AUTHORITIES R 4 Use/Abuse of us. Pussy Raiders 4 ever<

Bee a code talking savage for the love of the incarcerated native Americans who live in concentration camps one & all shape shifting ghost walking silent Shamanic speaking in mirrors with smoke. 

Recession my posterior we're broke this polite wrinkle in adjustments is a catastrophic crash a depressing state of affairs when the owner of Walmart like fly shit everywhere this generation of greed has eaten the entire Middle Class making every man, woman, child, dog or cat a 20 hr per week slave to part time work insuring their credit default swaps so that when you go to your crib in the barracks and are deaded by THEM driving ginormous SUVs dreaded for more often not deaded you'll be maimed or made partsheimered by spurious fallacious mediations imported from India make of beetle poop with no warning labels about your children to be born freaks/geek's/Greeks biting heads off Styrofoam decorative chickens sheep or cows fully infused with the table of elements mixed gleefully fatally making them tasty cheaply addictive while THEY have special harvests of children foreign & domestic fattened & seasoned especially for their taste in flesh consumed by war. Farcebook is a factory farm of political perversion the psyche of everyone on it. SameSamehere= r u adept @ no speak? or tweet? no! learn so:)

THEY know us better than we know ourselves & God knows all of it and I wonder how & when God will act. Everything/Everyone dies and meets the JUDGE. & string phones r nice alternatives

120907 07:07 we whee weed upon
© 2012 by Jack Spratt - All Rights Reserved

how swiftly falls in your eye asking why anything

is the moon God's lunatic eye? Sometimes maybe I think

not clinically who knows what they see the proofs of

cynically the costs of everything valuing nothing  skeptically

dithers about wisely indifferent outcomes. Litter twin or 

single nucleotide polymorphism combatively all life ends alone

really not so really we go invisible leaving behind a biodegradable

sack of once moist water mixed with cells rotting soon to become

ash as in returnable bottles or recycled dust to dust returned and 

nothing is ever lost in creation

120907 03:55 why

© 2012 by Jack Spratt - All Rights Reserved

is procrastination is

procrastination effortless is 

it really for me to avoid takes more 

work moving sixteen things to reach 

one and then do it to it keep it stupid 

simple culprit is fear not inadequacy 

120907 04:24 procrastination

© 2012 by Jack Spratt - All Rights Reserved

Fetish is charm

Maybe the better part of me is the futility in loving anyone but God. Or maybe me loving M who doesn't care; sort of my throwing flaming/fast ball or knuckle/slider/winder balls at a wall or the epiphany that I've no balls but huge baskets of marshmallows? 

Or just maybe it's that God is the only one at the Ball who responds to me?

This and that's the problem with keeping a journal? You know; you're just ditty bopping along watching the words stream out your finger tips across infinity suddenly your hands are up to your elbows in THE FARGO SHREDDER -- oh shit. It is instantly appropriate to use the F word as in I've Fed myself with desire or merely having what is unattainable -- having yourself on so to speak or say. Oh well that's just Mrs. Spratt's little fat boy at it again on his tricycle peddling like mad to find love in all the wrong places. Engendering it in his daughter squashing his finger in her tiny brainless fist. 

Meanwhile back at the Ball God is doing the Dance of the Seven Veils passing your head under your nose on a platter grinning? Who Me? Well. Actually both!! God grinning at me grinning back disembodied, detached, footless free of all desire finally. Or maybe just me on my tricycle idly bouncing marshmallows off brick walls playing with myself Catch?

The genius of God is humility becoming - a girl - a goat - a lamb or lion - a dove - a snake for those who seek and yet never find the essential nature of God, a boy his son on the cross asking why have you forsaken me? 

Follow me closely, metaphorically not literally, as I cross the abyss without benefit of the high wire -- fuck walking on water. 

With God what you see is what you get at least until face-to-face. WUSIWUHAVE nothing but your, whatever, ego, ideal, idol . . . .that's why Rumi is memorable; never me. A velocipede with a porcelain throne roaring about the universe reading Rumi. Annie pawing my attention crying pay attention to me! She only uses her claws and fangs when in ecstasy while I roll her around the floor like a ball not a marshmallow. Oh boy can I really turn Her on is she playing with me or I her?

The essentially interesting thing about power is that it can dick you around even the girls. The power of love plays with you in the alleyway losing her panties never forgotten the playmates of my life. Slice and dice that any which way you want but it's my personal truth? no Memories! 

Farther. Not father. Oddly where I live are more churches than in Rome representing personality cults Good Time Charlie's/Geraldine's who seem to have briefly the mojo juju magic attracting you when you should be attracting your Self. He/She/It never said anything about building temples outside your mind.

. . . make no false idols or monuments maybe good occasional friends

Be well going forth playing with yourself . . . not the little head fool the big one and girls not what floats you boat but well you know the divine within your virgin mind.

. . . maybe i should stop getting into the Fargo Shredder; instead placing myself in the Kitchen Maid Blender integrating all of me into a pudding of love.

120907 01:23 charm is fetish
© 2012 by Jack Spratt - All Rights Reserved