120712 03:11 cypher

--H. P Lovecraft

"All life is only a set of pictures in the brain, among which there is no difference betwixt those born of real things and those born of inward dreamings, and no cause to value the one above the other."

random

rogue

rage

no privacy

Was I born in the wrong time & place

or am I merely in a bad dream causing rage towards

The Thought Police, Inc. & US Patriot Act Rape?

Wishing now I could remember exactly the sequence and time of reading Kafka, Mencken, George Orwell, Ambrose Bierce “Incident at Owl Creek”, Aldous Huxley “Brave New World”

may have been before I could drive an automobile or die for draft dodgers like Bill Clinton or George W Bush The events so significant the above Governmental Agencies having my sperm count blood type current pressure heart beat, urine and fecal analysis plus attendant probes trailing invisibly as I masturbate watching mothers carnal play with goats

“Oh Gee Mom I thought I could play with myself in private?!”

“You mean I'm on Fox Fucked World TV? Too!”

How humiliating it this life become not merely cheek/jowl extremely rude riding elevators The Cathedral of World Rape, Greed, Pillage, Burn, Berserk, Amok, Outrage & Sons Inc., conveniently located centrally A perfect target with which to Twitter Facebook Google + the collective ideal representation; The United States of America of thee I adoringly sing?

“In God (the once all mighty holy dollar) Trust, l a geek gleefully inserting his proboscis in my posterior no lubricant The Property Manager orally raping my mouth while sodomizing my mind gleefully to mindless die fly downwardly free fall sighing pleasurably GET ME THE FUCK OFF THIS CHAOS MERRY-GO-ROUND NOW!

Falling peacefully floating the sidewalk rising to greet my face slowly thinking of the pigeons shitting upon my falling failing soul Odd a reprise my three meetings with G. H. W. Bush how in touching him I remember how vacuous G. W. Bush merely seen seemingly vicious by Dick Cheney anally fisting his jaw speaking nonsense Putin's eyes mirrors of my soul then flying out the Saudis who control Chase financing the entire enterprise

Yes Mom I have grievances. I'm wet can you dry me in the microwave? D'ya think there is room for the the congress of baboons too minus tutus?

Before you do, do you think my half-brother Stephen Norman Spratt will psychologically abuse dad stealing any or all parts the life I wasted putting him trough Maine Maritime instead of going to The Coast Guard Academy tuition free plus pay.

Did you know he would sexually assault and insult his then good friend my adopted daughter with racial epithets? Or that he insured his elephantine mothers death purchasing with the profit a lawn tractor? Riding her, his naked porcine self spurring with spurs her forward while frantically yanking his one testicle pagan penis. Her bridled mouth pulled right then left as she mowed his four acre retirement cottage in Maine where the manikin G. H. W. 'no more taxes!' equally retired fully health insured guarded by Secret Service personnel enough for a party plus Foreign Aid from Saudi Arabia lives. . . .Her mouth yanked cruelly yet giggling jiggling the massive flab breast swaying

“Where's the beef son?”

I don't really know but I have these visions poetical. Just thoughts; words and rage my soul's song sung.

Maybe, perhaps, maybe not; never/ever forgiven; the greatest expression of love after gratitude.

“I'm still wet Mom microwave me now”

. . . were any person or politician actually harmed and before me dying I would give them a cup of water and at their entrance into the true Democracy -- death – hold their hand or body weep into their witness the last and best friend seen before dying. My loyalty behaved demonstrated; even my half-brother who I wish would change his name

© 2012 by Jack Spratt All Rights Reserved   

120711 1255 beloved

. . . you know who you are I don't not fully

It is an education of sorts evolutionary this collecting of quotes. From near birth to near death I have had words stuck in my craw nettlesome not lamented but there memorable as a pebble in my sandal or thorns in paws both or all four feet

in times of deepest despair seldom I seek the consolation of those whose agony vastly greater than mine survived the next breath dawn drawing nigh to eternity I am succored and held in the arms of the beloved warmed pacific . . . .

“His anecdotes are 'casual' only in appearance; Montaigne writes: 'Neither my anecdotes nor my quotations are always employed simply as examples, for authority, or for ornament . .They often carry, off the subject under discussion, the seed of a richer and more daring matter, and they resonate obliquely with a more delicate tone,' Michel de Montagne, Essais Pléiade, Paris (ed.A.Thibaudet) 1937, Bk.1,ch.40 p.252

. . . a discovered friend brother playmate he Michel de Montagne frequently sought collecting quotes . . . "I have gathered a garland of other men’s flowers, and nothing is mine but the cord that binds them."

of these friends and their flowers I sometimes weep others laugh and then grow and inch larger

this heart seeking to be large enough to contain the smallest part God's love for all of us gathered

© 2012 by Jack Spratt All Rights Reserved

PS "Absence from those we love is self from self - a deadly banishment."

--William Shakespeare (1564-1616)

120710 17:41 to love

To know and be known is wonderful In very few cases merger of souls made by what once was called Heaven but now be it known forever by merely The Caller of The Square Dance called

For to desire anything is to be possessed of ideals impossible save in the love of The Caller of The Dance otherwise known as the highest prayer a rhythm sounded by one hand the meter of universes expansive away from the sole lover of love given unconditionally spun

Witness of such love is exceedingly rare and entered without desire the witness of astonished the interstitial of having and having not God to adore but merely another like thee shadowed grieving grievous laid bare naked ashamed not nude and proud the first is ruthless the latter something grander sacrificial for all not one salvific . . .

120710 20:37

Interruption:

. . . a friend called to be listened to and since he is a friend of long standing, I've promised him my car at the time of my death; his has something like 350,000 + miles on it. I'll not finish the above but instead close with the following: I am not a nice person and to those intimate with me they know my lethality. They know in detail or outline the history I had and continue to have with abuse; I chose to forgive instead of maim; death being essentially the easy way out for the lengthy and various abuses more accurately described as torture.

It is difficult to reign in the singular or many & various Dragons inside . . . the friend who called had been given Ritalin; for ADHD = Attention-deficit/hyperactivity disorder in massive doses as a child . . . I diagnosed his second born as genetically aborted mentally M confirmed my intuition.

I have a new friend who I have grown to suspect is a wanker; highly articulate wonderful poet and someone I'd drink the Atlantic Ocean to be near. Yet ecstatic I realized that I have desire for her hopelessly unrealizable and in an attempt to stabilize my rage I wrote the above poem. At least I began it and may or may not return finishing it. In point of fact I was of a mood to destroy my various blogs all of them the return as anonymous Self destructive usually I aim to maim not kill or kill myself instead of maiming or disfiguring becoming a “cutter”, it is bad enough that I still smoke cigarettes. It may be true of me my greatest fear is that I'll never die but as I love God I love her.

I would do myself immolated rather than influence her in any way inimical to her, her husband and family . . . humiliate, abuse, lie or otherwise be unfaithful to me and die or wish you'd never been born. It bemuses and amuses me that I was taught to kill bare handed in Greenwich High School, Greenwich, Connecticut by a rouge Army Ranger. . . .I have had several Seal friends with whom I got along very well.

I'm a warm blooded lover and a stone cold killer It can always go both ways. It is the nature of me that which I contain mindfully. Thanks to her I know myself healed – my mother was a lucky woman to die in her sleep. This I think is what a blog can be; a journal recording all the hurt and suffering balanced/integrated into a whole if not holy person.

I am grateful those few who read me and to M & Isis & God: perfect personalities to deal with my imperfections healing many with mere letters conjoined into words possibly even poetry.

© 2012 by Jack Spratt All Rights Reserved

120710 10:44 affair?

4 Isis I.S. x -o ?

suffocated by your silence

wondering where why what have

omission I done not done flirting with not caring

yet gasping dying second by second with concern and terror

I'll never hear the silence of your voice sighing singing and sobbing the tapestry woven of your lubricious womb sung poetically the way of woman commissioned submission emission extrusion rude lewd insertions in me everywhere my heart soul sole destroyed expunged redacted never been

I want to be have your child

gajillion gallons of coffee & cigarettes by truck loads my sole breakfast writhing writing with my broken toes toe nails eaten stuffed nose ear lobes howling infant feet first in a stationary shredder pink slip fired a fog of unknowable faintly red mist around your ankles naked

no patten red platform high heels fetish

none but you in silence present

instead for distraction I'll Brillo

my ball gag wash the toilet

with my hair un flushed

happily drowning

or maybe

I'll tip toe

across

the

pond

? glowing have you seen the moon phase half you and me darkness?

dear goddess ISIS speak

xoj evaporating

fool for love

as a man any man mid way between death and birth just a man

stood silent hands swathed both One with a paint brush touching

the blank mid gray red ground vastness of mid value north light

silence no shadow no bright to watch such a man touch this vast

canvas upon with each stroke was to see and enter genius Averell

Harriman his father-in-law he a drunk who drank in showers fall-

ing down glass shards concert pianist hands swathed mummified

clubs punctuating the vast unknowable flesh of god creator

creature a stylus in endless time painting first the face then the

light given to all not instant but process in darkness the stars all

aglow power point light pricks in darkness planetarium seeing a

rendering of all the solar systems from a limitless distance dust

mote infinitesimal looking at us students in The Art Students

leagues away smaller He said Saki! Take it back it's too warm!

Too Cold do it again by the fourth I became a gray fog in China

Town New Years theirs the endless Dragon dancing passing on

morning came alone I lay hung over 19 ruptured fire crackers

littering my face clothing recumbent body crumpled in a door

way where had they gone Frank Mason and gang my fellow

students?

OK! Children! Back aboard the bus! For moments more I touched

the abandoned chewing gum pop corn skating beneath my numb

feet wondering what & where is home?

120710 04:12 a man

© by jack spratt all rights reserved

120708 05:49 foretold

My demise is foretold by profit not prophesy

as is our species extinction none ever remembered no trace

quick or slow the monuments whether head stones or The Statue of Liberty or Treasury will be sand plain and simple a desert deserted in time

I should be sad but am not since this world as always reverts to the rich and powerful the 1% who glibly slay us for their amusement in our deaths

but in life we are “The White Man's Burden”

I am not for sale and never will I be a slave to anyone or thing save God of course

The formulary of me; this heart, the soul, this consciousness was born in an attic, Ripley, Ohio. The Rev. John Rankin House at first sight the manacles lain upon a plain wooden floor where runaway slaves hid from those who having purchased them exercised extreme measures to humiliate and propagate their profits by inseminating women slaves and their female children. Disbanding families as though live stock. The scenario etched a dry point copper plate remains still bleeding.

Scarcely able to manage myself what can I contribute to such little time is left consequent the wars for profit, rumors of more, or, The Big One ending it all in a flash. Then too are the other bombs: population, endless rape of civil rights, confiscation of homes, education and one now wonders the genius of Osama bin Laden who could have planned this betrayal resulting in our common estate. Instead I see bankers, politicians, stock manipulators, speculators nakedly enjoying what they have wrought their glee our final loss of the glory fought for on foreign shores with our taxes insured.

I may speak about God but not for the divine. Were I able I would sterilize them all expunging their families backwards and forwards so that no memory of their greed remained. Their incorporated protections legal in Florida where the principal part began.

But of course by their definition such is impossible for they have justified their greed by legislation proclaimed selfishness as the ideal & normative. The gall of them the bile I can scarcely contain. Perhaps The Big One, a communal mass suicide would be better than the 20 year assured death sentence of Alzheimer & Dementia’s assured by plastic lined cans, flexible plastic bottles rendering our male children impotent . . . by Alzheimer epidemic now will soon be a plague unstoppable and that alone will crush what remains of Their, Inc. profits.

Neither Sky Pilot, nor clairvoyant, I remain a journalist and once one, always one. A witness recording the death throes of what was once a wonderful idea.

We become, now and future Point of View, experiential, ultimately victims of those who purport to lead/rule by “Divine Right” the 1% . . . be well and do no harm

© 2012 by Jack Spratt All Rights Reserved

120707 16:02 sin

To waste a life, a self, a consciousness, a soul, is a sin against the creator and the self imperfect.

Yet in all life lived I've never known a person perfect.

In fact it may be a sin against God to place God above loving you as you are; imperfect. I, a sinner, or merely imperfect, who in accepting the confessions received, in subtle ways sometimes obvious never solicited. I imply or state; Pray for me a sinner then go in peace absolved. Their burdens lain aside for a time, or forever; but like forgiveness, I've done my part. Most often blessing with a smile, or tear, a touch or merely carrying them in my heart/mind/soul in continual prayer; heart enlarged a bit more by degree not kind.

In AA, if memory serves me, the term is sponsor. But for me mentor serves better. Too well remembered the phrase for the learner: pigeon. And there are those who are, in turn, pigeon fuckers. Predators. Thus not trustworthy and in and of all things trust is required. All teachers worthy of the title eventually realize the learning/healing/answer is within the student. And the teacher, if willing to learn, becomes a teacher taught, win/win or and/both never either/or.

In recent time I bemoaned not winning, placing or showing in a Feature Shoot exhibition. The first I'd had the courage to enter potentially losing at the only 'good thing' I'd ever done. Reaching backward these few days past the saying and this realization. I now recognize the importance of my impending death since the young need the space to become themselves. At the time of my meteoric ascendancy decapitated by the deaths of my children I was informed by those I taught that I was the cause of their not becoming photographers. In truth I knew the job statistics; not teaching photography as such, but the art of seeing what you look at. Farther and only implied; the why you saw as you did.

But for now, no longer aggrieved, the me I wanted to be 'successful' as in worthy of attention, acknowledgment, praise and reward, I am able to enter the maelstrom of creativity using the play with words unconsciously ongoing; always there from infancy. And in this humble way know the joy sought.

Be Here Now.

This “Here” being within Eternity embraced by infinity. In a minor way; what Rumi & Shakespeare were and for now remembered immortal since we may soon lose the eyes & the minds to be their audience.

I have always identified with those in need. Never the successful who gloat and smirk at others judging themselves whole and complete; superior. Yet even in that an inverse ego is revealed; what I need ridding of.

Atonement for wanting to love my mother into loving herself was vastly more than wanting to get laid. In confessing that, the wake and burial following, entered an new dimension; an unfilled longing for more. If you want more and more you are addicted and my more was love that I could trust possibly attended by sexual play ignoring all the wealth I have need for nothing else the end of more.

Then, via the Internet, in response to my blog, a woman asked to be my friend. A dialog ensued. Within which, oddly, all my longing was healed & fulfilled. No 'happy ending,' no touch, no enveloping lubricity ending in the divine “O”; not getting 'laid.' Just a dance of words. Though there is, or could be, so much more, I can now die happy knowing this divine bliss; a woman who in dancing with me­the highest form of prayer­finds what I thought of myself unacceptable, accepted; as I am and want to be. That impossible being; what was impossible with mom; for, from or within.

We are not things, expendable cyphers, but unique and worthy of love and respect the indwelling creator who equally is invisible needing to be found.

. . . and when you see Him/Her living beneath a bridge say hello for me please. Ignoring those who say or imply you are merely this or that an object of their contempt.

We are an army of giants in need of being who we are; souls in process becoming whatever we want to be. . . . Mostly freedom from tyranny.

120708 01:28 pooch

An unspeakable knowing of puppies known

in North America, as “fucking the pooch”

Thinking is a sensing function, an inherent way of seeing one depends . . . .

(Note: Not the adult diaper, a registered Trade Mark, begins with a capital 'D' representing a coping with what is inevitable. The result of mindless consumption mysterious and of unknowable consequence, wildly profitable food modifications – or as a result of adult men fisting, anally one another or just one.

Please see disambiguation: my two most favorite political figures Howdy Dowdy & Uncle Bob otherwise known as President Bush the younger and Momma’s Boy coupled with or by Vice-President Cheney the greatest terrorist since Genghis Kan spoken of or at the very least alluded to in previous posts.

Also see Alzheimer's the evacuation of brain matter which, like our savings, homes, advanced education of children, automobiles, Social Security etc. . . .where did the money go?)

. . . on. In the immature adult, what once was admired; depended upon exclusively: while there are another three: feeling, sensing, and intuition.

Farther investigation might be profitable please see: “Chinese Curse” at Wikipedia or Google It­--for a broader array of . . . before the politicians expunge not only the resource but we who seek it freely. . . oh well.

The balance of these four sensing functions (seeing/experiencing the World and Important Values) historically was known to have been in the prescription of very few individuals, namely Jesus, but this author sees similar proclivities and penchants in other known leaders Mohammad, Buddha and so on who either died in their sleep or where expunged, redacted or merely murdered as is most often the response of those who “think” only.

In this authors view(s) an attempt has been made to simplify as: sheep or goat, those who steal or those who give . . . the first being murders and the latter sacrificially murdered or ignored.

Albeit there is another system of personality categorization known as the Enneagram about which there is little common knowledge since it was derived from mystical Islamic oral tradition. And as is obvious hysterically suspect since one lunatic faction of Islam destroyed the Cathedral of Greed also known as, variously 9/11 or, The World Towers.

A personal opinion: Had the 'Powers that Be' namely the “Thinkers” been not so anal retentive, controlling/manipulative, it would be obvious the attack itself would have been impossible, had the command & control center been wide spread throughout the nation.

“Thinkers” tend to only see what they want to see, or, are subject and object of their thoughts magically caught in the concept and execution of those they perceive as a threat to their greed. Jesus was murdered not by Jews but by Scribes and Pharisees; the thinkers and lawyers of that time.

Imagine we the people owning a candy store requiring a manager. While we go about the serious business of: raising our children, maintaining shelter and acquiring food. In our absence the employee becomes curious sampling the candy. Upon our periodic return we discover the the store broken apart and employee grown enormous, the mouth of the candy jar worn like jewelery with pride. And then the manager wants a bonus. In this instance we do not have a choice; the reward of failure is more. Obsessive Compulsive Addiction to candy.

Perhaps we need define differently, economy, as neither free market capitalism or socialism or communism. Could we think in terms of collaboration?

http://encyclopedia.thefreedictionary.com/John+D.+Rockefeller

. . . Discovered after the above written; please read and make your own discernment. 

A Sistine Chapel fresco depicts the expulsion of Adam and Eve from the garden of Eden for their sin of eating from the fruit of the Tree of the knowledge of good and evil.

© 2012 by Jack Spratt All Rights Reserved