We live in a one legged world in which man plants one foot on the ground the other upon women beneath his other foot.
© 2013 by Jack Spratt - All Rights Reserved
© 2013 by Jack Spratt - All Rights Reserved
Wednesday, May 15, 2013
love @ any time . . . @ any age
.
. . is an inevitable energy, sidereal, attacking unexpectedly stealth
quiet in
a
whisper become typhoon
Least
I bore you, lending information you might wish not have heard . . . I
will natter on regardless since it is love: what’s about. That
which we all have genius for tho for most it is smoldering ignored
within our hearts.
The
Interlocutor seems to be playing a role saying, “eejit boy dance!”
I lurch about spanking my hip with tambourine feet tattooed taping
frantically twirling my cane propelled about as a helium filled
balloon flapping across the stage.
Contrary
to all former drama/traumas this has, within and about, a sense of
quiet reverence even—awe. On both, or all three parts—the
narrative characters within at play. Of course obviously I speak only
for myself. She, as I informed her, is free to dispose of me upon
next sight, shooting me if so inclined; my “Audition.”
While The Interlocutor simply smiles silently—chortling—or what?
Out of sight—off stage behind the curtains . . . from which, at
times, I sense a Shepard’s Crook about to appear yanking me away.
Ain’t
no Knight in Shinning Armor about to rescue the damsel in, or about
to be, distressed . . . perhaps merely a dragon dressed in motley
bells jangling on my claws.
My
concern:
I
sense myself, internally, too intense, as recently annotated
“ferocious,” but that may be merely vanity; and an exclusively a
male ideation. Reminding me that women have always been the creators
of civilization and the vessels from which life is reproduced.
Ricocheting
through my mind: licit, illicit, elicit and what has happened: M gave
me life and P let me out of my grave . . . and open ended rut . . .
no pun intended but, god help me, I just adore playing with words!
Writing
has become a way of making the invisible real—silence audible . . .
and at the moment I am squashed with the sense of precisely how much,
why, what and whom I love. . . .where, near, far or invisible
.
. . my vote is always towards love incarnate
130515
05:57 MDT love @ any time . . .
©
2013 by Jack Spratt—All Rights Reserved
tides of time
Adversarial
i’ve been near eternally measuring the dragon within become
intercessional. Stood on my keel upright the sea sucked from beneath
me in Hatteras. Then floated by High Moon Tide. Woe turned weal
astonished. Drown in profound gratitude.
A
child of my time, in love with the entire pallet of vocabulary,
vernacular, as well the King James of Willy Shakes; Hip Hopping in
his. Afeard of myself no longer, as always a fool, for love. The
tides of time by language defining what it is to live free at last.
The pearl inside born of grit nurtured by slander as well as
affirmations symbiotic. Greedy Needy for the latter but of the former
able to subsist hard scrabble.
Too
long ago to accurately remember, the periodicity and number of my
prayers for Randy; my long dead son, dying at 10 years-of-age.
Remembering only several details burned into my mind through touch,
my hand upon his sweaty sleeping head. The wounds of my grief are
healed; no longer stabbing the suppuration’s as I did, but now
celebrate that they ever were, briefly, mine to steward.
Immeasurable:
the height, width, breadth, depth of love—God actually. Within all
my searching, finding threads of inspiration: within the voices of
others. Absent my former fear they were the enemy opposition and our
imagined dialogs a collective monolog. Chagrined, now my sense that
they too where singing similar psalms differently to the same
interlocutor.
The
peace I know is possible by dialog with “Had She Said Yes” saying
yes to my sincerely articulated yes to her; as and where she is. We
are two time zones away from one another, for now. As we spoke last
evening she began to slumber compelling memories of Randy, Johanna,
Jodi all missing now . . . odd or not I thought I am both lover and
father to her submerging into sleep . . . possibly defining my
relationship as even keeled as it is since were she my daughter I
would pray for her best but do so in any case emergent between us.
Obviously
my feelings, thoughts, intuition and sense are beyond the boundaries
defining appropriate relationship between two people of consenting
age and mutual consent. By abstract or experience I could define
and/or argue the issue in many ways. Such concerns are trivial to me
having incorporated my conclusions regarding the numinous speaking
through many disciplines. My
sense is: love transcends all boundaries, time, this world we inhabit
and all prejudicial definitions regarding gender associations.
Does
my mind and soul reside in a different time zone? Yes. Of course. I
speak from my dreams of time before time was measurable. And I pray I
am wrong, since I sense equally, that there will be a time when time
will be forgotten.
Thus
this intercession for us; we all the community and family of life.
-
Irena Sendler
"Every
child saved with my help and the help of all the wonderful secret
messengers, who today are no longer living, is the justification of
my existence on this earth, and not a title to glory."
http://en.wikiquote.org/wiki/Wikiquote:Quote_of_the_day/May#15
To
close: I sense the child within the all of a woman, men as well tho men bore me generally remaining children growing old, not up, then
dying. My concern regarding abortion is that we must weigh both the
mother and child lending an understanding the both may be lost in
law. My sense regarding the Law of Love is: Free Will. Add: I was
followed by another child one year after my birth: aborted. And then
later on did father a child with another woman: aborted. It follows
that my concerns are well informed by experience and weighted towards
the freedom of choice. Least we further enslave women who absent
equality will leave us dancing upon one foot.
.
. . add, please: The keeper is kept.
Muse:
flame, fuel, combustion firing the wick I am.
130515
01:29 MDT tides of time
©
2013 by Jack Spratt—All Rights Reserved
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