My
ignorance races beyond grasp unable to grow vast enough to catch it
up and know the all or why of it.
Perhaps
merely an old persons game, this pin cushion of beans or sand, stuck
through with the common pins of quotes; glistening, well worn—smooth
as frogs toes.
“Marry
your best friend. I do not say that lightly. Really, truly find the
strongest, happiest friendship in the person you fall in love with.
Someone who speaks highly of you. Someone you can laugh with. The
kind of laughs that make your belly ache, and your nose snort. The
embarrassing, earnest, healing kind of laughs. Wit is important. Life
is too short not to love someone who lets you be a fool with them.
Make sure they are somebody who lets you cry, too. Despair will come.
Find someone that you want to be there with you through those times.
Most importantly, marry the one that makes passion, love, and madness
combine and course through you. A love that will never dilute –
even when the waters get deep, and dark.”
.
. . discovered just now @ http://weseekjoy.blogspot.no/
Stunned
to discover the above. Reminded my perception nominally remains
influenced by my father’s estimate of competition, fame and
acclaim; celebrity as success and wealth . . . at least that was the
measure of I remember from infancy onward, now hearing music
differently than what he implied or bribed. Conscious he left me only
words at death: “goodbye.”
We
both left penniless by the true gangsters bankers and Wall Street
speculators, politicians stuffing their yaps with lifelong security
while stealing ours; leaving veterans to sleep under bridges . . .
and on . . . and so on.
Usury
as wonderful for serial rapist and pickpockets collectivized at 1%.
Think not of Drug Lords in Juarez but of the Belt Way humping you
naked—they in business suits.
In
Public and plain sight.
But—i
digress. My intention not lost but distracted by entering,
momentarily, into the carnival menagerie freak show kiddy porn
propaganda presented as news when actually infotainment
wall-to-ceaseless-wall noise partizan for power and control. A
centrifuge spinning out our souls, home, education, health and
pennies. To me a tsunami of dreck.
I
do not disapprove of profit but 66 2/3rds a bit much, much less
taking entire nations hostage. Had I my mother’s bequest it would
have given me a diet of something other than beans and rice. My
father’s would have provided me with a life of quiet dissipation,
or so I once thought prior to being where I am happily impoverished
yet rich in friends.
Bereft
my father’s attitudes and perceptions of what is good and holy I
sense for myself what is appropriate and good for all the rest of us.
We 99%.
I
have yet to write any where near what I long for: Poetry. That
impossible, to me thing, like music was made, the language of God’s
Lullaby.
If
coin be wealth, as words are to me, then I am armpit deep in them.
Girding my loins to move forward. Gaining an education. And for now
profoundly grateful for N’tima’s words (above) a balm upon my
temerity and bewildering ignorance.
130516
MDT 14:07 racing
©
2013 by Jack Spratt—All Rights Reserved
