Should she leave me by needs I'll become she who saved me from myself and mom who in retrospect was not mercurial but a shape shifter.

Of dreams with The Virgin Mary she never showed her face compelling association with all women in creation the beginning giving birth to Adam until now or whatever she wants is just fine by me. And Adam become Jesus works for me on so many levels I am nothing a fool for both love and words.

In some sense she, not mary but mom, had eyes all around her but in the dark glowing I could see them red and flashing green like a castrated tree at Christmas Time with the 4th of July stroboscope flashing epileptic weeping tinsel and OMG the balls! Weeping in anguish their decoration upon the now dead tree infused with scotch sustained awaiting the Fargo Shredder for mulch to regrow somewhere else.

In some small significant magnificently way insanity is to attempt the same thing over and again expecting different results. Such behavior is cult or addiction to substances and material waste merely making of value something with a price tag flapping in the breeze a world become a catalog not Victorious but moldering in the mud becoming eventually dust.

disappeared
is this for which or what i live?
am I actually alive again?
Why me?
Why NOT!

Jesus descending upon the glitter ball on a pogo stick hopping upon and around laughing would you believe the Second Coming? I mean after all it is the PAGAN NEW YEAR bending to kiss your posterity goodbye pretentious in your parse and triage of time? Perhaps possibly more better it would be THE WHO! with mushroom clouds dividing Broadway beneath your feet? Flashing instant last sight of China eating the Himalayas et al making What Me Worry Alfred E. Newman and Chuck E. Cheese the NEW DALAI LAMA! While the party shreds your daughters in Fargo Shredding Machines parked humming shoulder to shoulder screaming in lockstep their mission to abort the world? And the Chairman Mao pleasuring himself with a pocket pussy filled with napalm weeping into his incarcerated skin becoming a cinder?

A blown out wooden kitchen matchstick tumbling into the midnight sea sighing in relief the donuts all gone. Like no more CANCER! cured forever to begin again but where
oh where have all the days gone? Yesterdays adored now lost forever.
Be well just swell in hell. Retirement accounts don't count for zeroed out.

Sincerely God speaks with and through many voices before voices were.
It all begins with you 4 U

121017 20:19 Virgin Mary
©2012 by Jack Spratt - All Rights Reserved

a writer realized late in life this time is eclectic not hectic

same 2 in photography and i no longer put expectations on

--can you hear me laughing? 2 me i feel as though a shuttle

cock flinging back and forth forth and back weaving a tapestry

of something I cannot know the pieces don't fit like a picture

puzzle with discernable edges oddly bizarrely configured and of

my laundry nearly a years worth still in the back of my car growing

mushrooms and oddly green squiggly things roaming gleefully singing

songs o u dirty old goat wash me NOW!

& of course the problem is that someone flung the box top away

with the promise of a Dick Tracy magic ring seeing through clothes

2 U i'm just an ordinary guy but i've seen my mother naked 2 it's

okay but the problem  see is i sees souls dancing crying dying and laughing

2  No 1 likes to have their dipstick drawn for a time they feel invaded and

on empty i just smile with your stolen dirty or clean panties in my mouth

grinning and leering and salivating in desire to know you real well in another

way had mom known me better i'd never have been given birth yet she knows

me well and swell rupture rapture or roaming the desert with Post-It Notes of

sin attached laughing a horny old goat i is

121017 19:07 converse

©2012 by Jack Spratt - All Rights Reserved

life is 2 funny 2 take seriously i gave mine away for a door prize

arriving for the cookies & milk the bear ate me for a snack drooling

with greed 4 more and greater than that wanting to dance upon the

pedestal doing the hoochie coochie giggling with the crank twistin

the twist Chubby Cheerios style in a victory roll the war is all over hear

the bear humming? Know your ending soon dripping drool outta you

mind and mouth

121017 19:25 seriously

©2012 by Jack Spratt - All Rights Reserved

We all have god

within us but can

only be god or like

god for ourselves

in peace and

creation knowing

the blessing of being

what

conscious

of having

no fear and then

then

we can give others

our peace piecemeal

manna for others

must be consumed

that they and all be

well

today the pool was not crowed and across it I saw her smile and I became her and she me and all was well swell I returned home eating M&Ms knowing myself having a chocolate fit need it it the manna of my brain then sleeping the sleep of the dead arising later on Manny called to ask something I realize it was still today not tomorrow or yesterday and I lived?! i bless people by sight looking at looking seeing the well or at the very least okay for now forever is their problem not mine. God gives us name before we leave and arrive here on the body of God called "Earth" or nest or whatever it is all the same Jerusalem the City of Peace Very crowded now and some go insane some go bliss and it is swell we all die and go back home maybe maybe not to do it all over again?

We are all we need having enough the rest must be shared

our daily bread

121017 1724 the right stuff U have it!

©2012 by Jack Spratt - All Rights Reserved

true unreality

As a photographer I define myself as a taker not a maker. Reserving the latter for poetry, prose and journal keeping. True. There are brutal parts of my life mined reminding to others they are not alone as I was until seven years ago. Moving to The Land of Enchantment, New Mexico, The United States of America.

Traveling sixteen hundred miles wending my way towards a vision experienced in 1965 on my way to Mexico City. I knew instinctively I was home at last when crossing the pass between one place and another in the dark. From seven thousand feet looking across hundreds of miles. Experiencing a flashing lightning storm striking first here, then there, like brain synapses. Which now seems internally more like the Bicentennial Firework Show over New York Harbor. Yet for me silent, instead of many bangs.

I am now celibate for many reasons growing more so daily. Realizing now that all my life was baiting the tiger, or in my case the lioness of first mom, then wife, the lover, etc.

In a sense I have not merely been very bad ethically and morally but worse abusive to myself knowing nothing better. If you have God as your best friend, and I am not alone in this sense, seeing it across history. Not merely in Jesus. But many others who essentially remain nameless to all but a few who seek wisdom and truth.

If you want me to ignore you tell me about how sweet Jesus is and I will walk away in silence; not derision. True love is mutable, renewable daily, dedicated to maintenance, of not devotion, but negotiation, for what is todays agenda and purpose. It is the crooked made plain; a level playing field between God and Self--again--and again--not exclusive to me but many who were like me apostate, agnostic, nihilist, sexually promiscuous, etc. Name all the sins, guilts and shames. I've done it returning at last to the truth of my love who saved me so many times I have no other excuse for being alive.

And to think, at one time I sought the pink sugar cone of cotton candy handy at carnivals and sideshows. Bimbos and sluts, not intrinsic, but merely in my imaging: peace and pleasure in their arms safe at last. I was born after fifty-eight-hours in my mother's womb. Why would I want to return to make love with her? Instead I've grown to a full maturity now in recognition that I longed merely for her to love herself and leave me alone in solitary peace.

Remembering the moments of ecstatic joy lending flickering glimpses of God and Truth. Post or prior coital; "Did you remember to put the trash out?" Or. "Are the children asleep." Odd. Very  odd to realize God with me from first to last and beyond. Yet more so now apparent!

I have explored many women and creative activities: painting, music, sports, war making, the list is endless and yet none did it for me: no bliss, no rest, no hope. Worse. No completion until I said I am a recluse, introverted, slow to process either love or anger. Saying; “I should have been celibate.” At the same time recognizing the complicity between both. Indifference being what I did to myself.

That is, of course, until I met the last and great martyr.

Indifferent and indecisive in and towards myself. I am now decisive to the point of needing caution that I do not destroy people I otherwise can hold in prayer instead of bed or faux friendship.

If I give you my attention, initially it is merely being civil. If you steal my time you will do well to know that I can and will destroy you. Love is not a sweet thing sentimental; rather and farther a violence and passion beyond most human understanding.

Creation beyond The Big Bang theory. . . .The before and after nothingness.

We, you and I, and all of life is made from the same stuff as the stars plus one key ingredient: water. . . .Recently on my way into water aerobics, the only reason I am not in constant agony from arthritis, I saw a young man with a one gallon bottle of water near a brand new pickup truck. I paused saying; "WOW! A vehicle that runs on water!"

"No!" The young man replied; "I do: one gallon a day!"

Expect war between the haves and have nots'. Not over jobs or money; but water. Think about living aboard a vessel, as Ship of State, or like a submarine to a sailor. To bathe one gets wet turning off the water, sudsing, then rinsing all in the space of three minutes. We can go days without food but without water a day or two.

You do not know the value of anything until you lose or come close to losing it. The world is maladjusted in so many ways by over population . . . think the number of cities near oceans and rivers soon polluted beyond use by any means or measures; water costing more than any other resource. Tucson has a life span of maybe another two decades before becoming a ghost town. As for Manhattan it may well soon be under water.

Think.

Seek the truth for yourself.

Add all the rest of us--as well. Or just dying of thirst for living potable water. Or just for laughs; having a cigarette basking in your bathtub exploding.

121017 04:09 unreality truth
©2012 by Jack Spratt - All Rights Reserved

our time

For me this is the right time, place and generation; bridging the Depressions as I do.

My parents were born, and grew to maturity, during the Great Depression creating a family during a dark and turbulent time of change. And then educated me based upon the expectations of poverty not wealth. Possibly I examine their motives and coping more than most simply because I was born curious?

Born in 1940 at the beginning of World War II; approximately one month before Pearl Harbor. Historically I was swept into the great migration afterwards. My parents left me with my maternal grandmother Mamalu as they sought a new home for one year. The home they settled in was Greenwich, Connecticut; a bedroom community for New York, New York. I had no sense of the towns place in the general lexicon of "good address to come from." Equally I had no sense of it being home but instead just the place where my parents lived while I had another distant home beside the Ohio River, Ripley Ohio.

All my dreams, lifetime, have been reconciled and explained. And clearly understood as lessons for my teaching. Thus the new ones, this morning's, prove to be astonishing leading me to question, being curious, their providence, meaning and context in and around the before, during and afterward of my soon or maybe long awaited death, and release from; "I don't care if I live or die; depression." Understanding myself as I do is more a result of suffering from birth until quite recently when joy became obvious and peace my stance in another time of significant change. I am at peace within myself regardless the chaos surrounding me buffeting all others both younger and older or the same age as I.

Poor. I find poverty a boon since I am not subject to the addiction of being entertained by television. Unavailable without subscription to a monopoly; Cable or Satellite Broadcast.

There were times during my life television played a significant role. Abstaining from it, these past six years, has lent me a different experience of time. No longer slave to their schedule I gained freedom to prioritize my life around other creative concerns. Part and parcel of my current sense of youth approaching my seventy-second year. Preferring silence to noise, reading versus vacuity and when curious about current events I listen to National Public Radio reverting to the joy of my youth before television.

Last evening I listened to the Presidential debates and was taken with my sense of what was implied and what was factual; a curious truth actual. Like most men I have a special interest in  the female and things, costumes, makeup, etc. available to women for changing their appearance. The how and why, becoming obvious, now that I see women as equals and adore more their intelligence and wisdom than their bust line. The same, it now seems, was true as a child for those of color lived one street behind my grandmother's home. They would pass by my solitude laughing with their friends and peers. I came to admire them more than my few "white" friends for a host of reasons made obvious by listening, instead of viewing, the debates.

Accustomed to being abandoned, despised and suffering alone my observations were both a joy and a curse. Listening instead of watching the debates I concluded and am convicted by a vastly different apprehension. Mr. Romney is by any common cultural standard or norm viral handsome and, in a sense, a poster person for success. Mr. Obama on the other hand is merely a man of substance not appearance and in a world soon to be all brown, or of color, versus toothpaste white better integrated into the future while Mr. Romney is now the past.

A student of aesthetics and behavior I fear Mr. Romney and Mr. Ryan; trusting Mr. Obama as an ambassador for the future. Remembering his Nobel Award for Peace and the current awarded, Europe, there is an uncommon wisdom betrayed by the Republican agenda too reminiscent of a pointless bankruptcy and war.

America, once a savior, is now a nation of aggression and torture. Possibly in it's last gasp or grasp of power throwing around a weight it can no longer afford?

I doubt that many could afford my tuition in the University of Hard Knocks. Atypical of most young men I speak with in the course of my social life, I do not appraise a person by their appearance but substance. The who they are, and by inference and extrapolation, the what they will become following closely what they say and how they behave.

We are at war with ourselves over racially divided associations and expectations. I could and can argue either side of any issue; no longer willing to prostitute my mind to vanity. Expect the war to continue for space, water, clean air; the health of nation in this world cannot be exclusively defined in terms of mind numbing boredom doing factory jobs. The jobs Romney promises are even more so; boring, small pay, women made breeding stock for wars yet to come; their children cannon fodder for wars engaged preemptively for the sake of power not justice. Truth is difficult to find in a time of appearances versus substance.

In closing I would remind you that tho I have no communication with the biracial child adopted by my heart and her daughter. I will advocate for those of color for they are the future and I am not. Many of the current political arrangements were rehearsed successfully after the last Great Depression in favor of the rich. The only reason this time is called The Great Recession is attributable to Republicans and their obvious disdain of "colored" people unworthy of counting as employable.

Be well, vote, thinking for yourself; and for heaven's sake remember that people of color fought to protect our right to vote in the first place. They were there at Bunker Hill.

Add: We are one family created equal under God. No part of which is to be despised. In death we return to the Creator our souls without color, gender or creed.

121017 01:46 our  time
©2012 by Jack Spratt - All Rights Reserved