120716 03:33

I'm called Johnny by my family – just thought I'd let you know.

When I stared to keep a journal it would be written when alone; a precious commodity; absolute silence or dearly so adorable the night being the biggest teddy bear cuddly.

& I would return to infancy in a crib with Mozart long haired white mostly orange tabby purring . . . he lived a long time passing on when I was twenty-two. As Einstein said; “God hides in plain sight.” . . . obviously he knew God is love not eye for eye Republican

And then; "Before God we are all equally wise - and equally foolish."

But Mozart disappeared before I could talk, one of the legion of thinks/things feared I'd never know the why about. . . .Going to see Uncle John Gault, Walton, KY, astonishing there was MOZART! Mom would do such things, being a neat freak possibly seen, as in now, as anal retentive like most power geeks are. e.g. returning from my annual banishment I'd discover my toy box not bare but half so – empty/full? And being a child I'd bitch moan and wine – B.M.W. – Why would a Jew drive an automobile covered in the flesh of his wholesale slaughtered relatives/race? Is forgiveness a now a tenet or article of their sense of God? Possibly becoming more “Christian” than 'christian' like we pretend to be? Forgive me please my digressions and inflictions please I implore.

I have no idea who reads me; mostly women? Judging by the respondents, four and counting, they are my friends. However being a Hospice Volunteer, rare being male, at least on the outside, in I rarely mention it as the best time of my life: joy, ecstasy and humiliation.

Why humiliation?

Well, girls and boys get together, or long to do so; mostly. I remained a boy hormonal obsessed with the rockets red glare going off even now . . . boys love superficially and often while – Women love deeply and seldom . . . or was that selectively?

Being a woman now that I have a Harem of Guys is a vastly more costly proposition than being a boy who stands up to pee. Whereas mentioned previously woman are multiorgasmic much more better & refractory adj TOO! They, women, girl or crone are subject to a multiplicity of ills and knowings that boys know nothing about and could care less.

Oddly like angels we are same same inside merely different outside meaning what we see when looking at with lust or desire or unconsciously covetous but all that lust and fucking is costly too, as previously stated we're 3 Billion over capacity and these pissant politicians whores for The US Catholic Bishops Counsel who virtually live in the congress of baboons offices selling their brand of divinity. Whores that they are the politicians know which side their daily bread is buttered on and to hell with girls who must now give birth to Uncle Bob's get.

In recent time, discussing my ­-- dummy me – writing up a two to two hundred fifty word description of a yard sale attempting to glean the assholes cutting of our budget to fill the vacuum while they give themselves bonuses . . . I play with a 50 to 75% reduction of pay, benefits, and now, I repeat no on going profit in office or afterward. That is without consideration their insider trading trafficking on the families whose homes were stolen currently living on the street lucky to find an abandoned car for shelter eating out of dumpsters – now – maybe – forever.

The topic of conversation was: “How much time do I have to produce the copy?” During the ensuing dialog the fact of how I triage and parse my time came up: “Who's you ideal playmate? ______ . I replied for me it would be Ava Gardner @ any age.

Then I said; the problem for me is that I've no time for that, should she appear at my door naked or nude cooing, “oh Johnny, Jack or Jacob fuck me; I'd spank her ass with my keyboard and then tell her, either, get lost or I'll pull the plug deflating you now for later future play. . . .I have room for you on a shelf in my closet; or would you prefer the refrigerator?

M&m make more love over Formica tables in public than most will ever know in an eternity of resurrection or reincarnations and I think that's what friends are for. God can you hear me laughing . . . or is it You or an echo?

© 2012 by Jack Spratt All Rights Reserved

illustration from http://www.famousquotesandauthors.com/random_quotes.html random choice this date's collection


120715 09:44 self revelation inappropriately so


Attending Sexual Additioniction Anonymous; There are several groups of approximately the same name and intention; National. If not listed in the telephone book your location use the web or ask around. For God's sake don't be shy. I was at first.


I came to know a man slightly senior to me trained in social work with a minor in psychology He was forever hitting me up for free rides, here & there hither & yon, a real pain in the sit down He shared that he had a girl friend wheelchair bound with MS in rapid state of decline – the eventual end is slow I know because I have another friend having the same problem, genetic predisposition, I'd lent aid to his dying brother. 


In time one is unable to swallow, there are many things worse than death MS is the lesser than Parkinson's or Alzheimers; a slow shutdown of a once viable life starving to or suffocating slowly to death.


In any case after elaborate arrangements, I helped him move, he arranged for this woman to be nearby for regular fellatio . . . I still pray for them both. Though since our banishment from The Garden of Eden for eating the fruit of judgment good &/or evil. . . . or merely Bad. It may well be that she adored him and merely gave him blow jobs as a tip for the groceries he brought her; I was the chauffeur and never saw her save through his witness.


My lifelong study of my suicide was/is/attended by a fetish for feminine underclothes slippery panties principally but bras and slips will do pantyhose never. Once knew a recently divorced black woman who allowed me to play with hers while wearing them – but she called the “drawers' – just to jerk my chain, promising deep throat. Never happened but she would call me once in a great while seeking a hook up that also never happened lamentably.


Even Kurt Vonnegut mentioned them, panties, with an illustration in, Breakfast of Champions. My point is that once initiated they remain barely contained constrained or controllable . . . 


(brief aside Word Web, Websters, Oxford and American Heritage . . . Tom Wolf's preference Carol his former lover then mine told me so . . . Google's Chrome Dictionary is gonna eat you all alive; faster than http://www.thefreedictionary.com/: deeper but slower i.e. idée fixe: a fixed idea; obsession – Think Tea Party, Milt Romney, conservatism, greed is good, selfishness more better or lunatic fundamentalist Islam or Christian, having your fathers baby no abortions by rapist allowed sniper shot the Gynecologist use women as breeding stock cannon fodder for useless war at least profitable to the Military Industrial Complex Eisenhower mentioned before leaving office Foreign Aid bibs to dictators who promise rape of profitable natural resources. . . .) Oh yes and that Atlas Shrugged is a novel by Ayn Rand a Russian and guiding light to the glitterati, inc. our slave masters the bastards and bitches who own everything included my body but not my soul . . . by poll amongst those who know: United Heath Care a medical insurance company has a woman Chief Executive Officer compensated annually $103,000 + stock options and bonuses extra. AARP one of their largest customers. Had learned she had any part in denying my son or daughter health care . . . well I won't go into detail . . . what the fuck why not: I'd reach down her throat drawing her sphincter over her head and laugh watching her suffocating while prodding her with my AARP card. She wants not ever to see us the people she fleeces preferring instead locked gate communities and resorts where us tar babies can't get in since it costs $5,000 a day. Bye-the-Bye million has six zeros, had to look it upon, on Google of course my new primary browser Chrome, other wise I'd have expired from a nose bleed in their rarefied stratosphere.
Take an executive to lunch and eat him/her alive. . . .Merely a metaphor please Mr. Thought Police man drooling with thoughts of terrorist acts, sedition or treason. Since those good Patriot Act (s) by Howdy Dowdy & Uncle Bob left the stage a shambles another asshole waiting in the wings to 'make it better' Preemptive Strikes & Torture, Inc.


"A republican government is slow to move, yet when once in motion, its momentum becomes irresistible." -- Thomas Jefferson 
(1743-1826), US Founding Father, drafted the Declaration of Independence, 3rd US President


. . . I won't get paid for my endorsement by choice. That said I consider books erotic licking smelling fondling them and the oracle librarians their panties too, my mind wanders the cosmology in wonder at the meanings of words throughout recorded and before history. Those small innocuous characters coupling into new potentials. 


Fuck you Discovery & Chase, Inc. the most important card in my now raped wallet is my library card:)


Theology is the study and commentary on the existence and attributes of God or gods, and of how God or those gods relate to the world and, especially, to human existence and religious thought; more generally, it is the study of religious faith, practice, and experience, or of spirituality. It is sometimes contrasted with religious studies: theology is understood as the study of religion from an internal perspective (e.g., a perspective of commitment to that religion), and religious studies as the study of religion from an external (e.g., a secular) perspective.


Calvin's magnum opus
The opening chapter of the Institutes is perhaps the best known, in which Calvin presents the basic plan of the book. There are two general subjects to be examined: the creator, and his creatures. Above all, the book concerns the knowledge of God the Creator; but "as it is in the creation of man that the divine perfections are best displayed", there also is an examination of what can be known about humankind. After all, it is mankind's knowledge of God and of what He requires of his creatures, that is overall the issue of concern for a book of theology. In the first chapter, these two issues are considered together, to show what God has to do with mankind (and other creatures), and especially, how knowing God is connected with human knowledge.


To pursue that explanation of the relationship between God and man, Calvin adopts a traditional structure of Christian instruction used in Western Christianity, by arranging the material according to the plan of the Apostles' Creed. First the knowledge of God is considered as knowledge of the Father, the creator, provider and sustainer. Then it is examined how the Son reveals the Father, as only God is able to reveal God. And finally, the third section of the Institutes describes the work of the Holy Spirit, who raised Christ from the dead, and who comes from the Father and the Son to affect a union in the Church through faith in Jesus Christ, with God, forever.


If you hear someone repeat the same ideation or phrase expecting different results ignore them they are – insane.


Forgive me my trespass or infliction on your attention but I simply must explain my current totem not fetish: Commander Stephen Norman Spratt, my erstwhile half brother also known as Commander Chuck E. Cheese what the fuck did you do to dad that made him cry while telling me you'd get his inheritance since I made no children to receive his bequest a certainly not “that nigger child {my adopted daughter} He, sobbing now, said you pissant had helped him once? A dictated script you brain washed into him promising to throw his person bodily out of your care taking?


Did he ever tell you why I called him Hawk?


Unlike the Lamb/Lion I am the Dove/Hawk and I will eat you alive and shit you out at an appropriate altitude you to know & remember the punch line: 


“. . don't shit me now Hawk!”


Now when you speak before real men they will collapse laughing at you as I do now.


PS 


Did you know that like Dragons of yore this Hawk farts flames? That's a good thing Stephen you'll be a cinder before you hit the ground.

© 2012 by Jack Spratt All Rights Reserved

120715 02:22 knowing

knowing more the unknown
humbles one to listen quietly learning
better the pronouncements of the Other
in silence is wisdom learned we arrive we live
& die merely one of trillions grains of sand within the hourglass passing

120715 06:41 knowing more

Memory serves me too well at times places blur worn smooth by a river of time

In a rare spontaneity my bride still after so many years lent down preparing to fellate me

Rarer she seemed to be willing to not just lick but suck fully an arrival from me.

Roaring up beside Lisa a rescue gaff rigged sloop came Gill Thorpe in his very powerful swift noise maker. I dropped my cap and she with aplomb straighten up

Hello Gill!

Mr. Thorpe was upper middle class a Drug Store owner beautiful wife and children living on Wickford Harbor Where there was a motive to 'improve' certain publicly held property a dock for commercial purposes He had once spoken to both of us saying “I don't like swimming in myself” He had lain down in front of enormous dump trucks to prevent the carnage to his not view but septic tank making it impossible to swim of a morning his exercise at home No other pool possible if so he'd had one.

I rarely forget context and behavior names often especially if ancillary to my narrative fall by the wayside Yet I remember faces and his daughter beloved of Randy . . . I measure my life by his death the before during and after . . . beautiful like her mother she was Randy's favorite babysitter . . . there was then a younger brother a family gorgeous posterity iconic.

Where are we now woven into a tapestry debt the whole Nine Yards standing above us hoarding everything required to survive Money become meaningless all told swimming in an universe of effluent Monetary values meaningless when not circulated politically neutered and we the slaves considering change of any kind to acquire pennies “In God We Trust” become a lie

Generosity like life is its own reward So too greed true not expansive but devalued and murder to boot suffocating in pennies valueless those who “In God We Trust” experiential real

Long curious “The whole nine yards” Caring capacity of an average dump truck became the roaring 40s latitude returning clipper ships sailed beneath waves full standing every sail drawing for speed – Typhoon – The men required to reef the sails off watch drown in their bunks & I with love imagine them and their ghost ships still sailing still beneath the brine

© 2012 by Jack Spratt All Rights Reserved

120714 08:13 chuck E. cheese

From first to last knowing or merely in his presence observing silent as a snake my forked tongue touching him measuring him I would reflexively name him Commander Chuck E. Cheese. Best remembered the last, “oh I have friends to call should Dad need any help”, a mustard seed the size of cow flop planted then. He returned to Virginia Beach and dad in Groton Connecticut alone helpless in grief . . . you son-of-a-bitch!

Retroactively now trained in elder abuse – should I be in assisted living or a nursing home eventually, I expect to be raped by a male attendant systematically simply for his entertainment – abuse: sexual, financial, emotional of the elderly soon to die rather than suffer the humiliation & terror telling authorities their child is the author of such atrocious acts. I know your spore read easily now.

I too well know being helpless evidenced by the deaths of my two children While there were two parents involved I was shut out by the ever child mother of her four siblings. Anal Retentive in the extreme she shut me out first to last moments of our “relationship” honesty/dishonesty cuts both ways. Stephen Normand Spratt you stand accused of elder abuse in the court of elder abuse. Rather than the typical he said she said contest of urine splatter about I will simply try you in the court of public opinion and in the end you will wish you'd never been born actually an accident unwanted by dad.

--H. G. Wells

(1866-1946)

“A time will come when a politician who has willfully made war and promoted international dissension will be as sure of the dock and much surer of the noose than a private homicide. It is not reasonable that those who gamble with men's lives should not stake their own.”

"Advertising is legalized lying."

Like the congress of baboons I am a sovereign/nation/cosmos unto myself without fear of death; I know a bit more about “the other side of life” than most.

My first assignment, like the first kiss, most memorable, was in the precinct of South Providence Rhode Island at an art show. First step into the exhibition some one called “Rabani Spratt” I answered to the latter part learning slowly over the years that though unqualified I am in essence a teacher like Jesus and all the Saints and Prophets.

A sinner, and imperfect, seeking such, am I yet also a child of God as we all are. I sense, intuit, feel, think myself a member of all race creed proclivities more over a citizen of the Universe. We all are one family of the species called human. Our souls regardless of outward definitions are equal & my by now old saw: carried in biodegradable bags of flesh mostly water: same/same.

Honor is expected and annotated in The Ten Commandments similar to Jesus' recommendation to love thy enemy – as previously annotated. Trust & Respect of either parents or enemies are based upon behavior and choice theirs and mine. Yet for me there is the Samurai warriors code once drawn my sword must taste blood. I play with concepts, institutions, conjecture and often it is not my knowing but balanced integration of all that I proffer the following – potentially garbled thus in error – sense of the Zen Archer; become the target. Though I could read the Bible a trillion times finding more I find Christianity Freighted with the maundering influence by too many interpretations people who purport to serve we poor ignorant slaves by “Divine Right” implied. Always remember the power propaganda used to manipulate those too busy attempting to survive into mindless herds. what was an attempt to demonstrate God as loving never worked in the sense intended. Rather we cling to an eye for an eye retribution since, in my opinion, it far easier to kill than to love.

Personally I am revolted by the motto on our currency; a patented lie. Were the statistics not cooked or merely wishful/magical thinking incorporating those uncounted Black, Hispanic, Native American; from whom one and all we stole this land “of the Free?” And those acknowledged as “discouraged” no longer counted. You would know were are not in recession but depression.

As a registered voter I favor neither party and out of principal will change my 'party affiliations: from Democrat to neutral' They both are complicit in our current tragedy.

I have a fiendish mind and humor while contemplating the abortion retroactive and forward of all Politicians, Bankers, Stock Brokers/gamers. Which only now suggests that by my evaluation I'd have to stand in line becoming pet food since Stephen Norman Spratt hence forth forever more also known as Commander Chuck E. Cheese, his rodent whiskers and beady eyes twitching avariciously, carries genes similar to mine – my voluntary forgiveness is not entirely altruistic.

I have not come to slay but to teach you who care to love and forgive your selves and those who steal and/or slay you with a rusty sword of Islamic extremist sawing off your head.

Remember: Say & mean what you say;

Thank You,

I forgive you,

God Bless you &

bye the way have a nice life.

. . . then grab your posterior, bending over, kiss it Good Bye hello God's Heaven

. . . as for you Stephen you might eventually find a position commanding a night soil honey dipper barge in Mumbai . . . it's not the money honey its the abuse; rape, psychological, economic being synonymous are actionable offenses against life & God.

Thus my sense it appropriate George W Bush & Dick Cheney should be tried in The World Court for turning Iraq into The School for Terrorist both sides the combatants.

As for the Mormon Milt whatshisname for'gid-about it!

© 2012 by Jack Spratt All Rights Reserved

120714 01:44 fetish fixation

"He does not need opium. He has the gift of reverie" --Anais Nin

To/4 Betsy Gardner a school mate who is my muse and erstwhile editor Were it not for her I'd not be in free fall growing feathers attempting to fly before auger/auguring aflame dying buried in the bottom of the abyss.

There is much about my sensuality learned from authors of smut, pornography or rhapsodic poetry regarding love. It was Anais who first implied it was okay to be a fetishist as well as many more things than I'd allowed myself to ponder. A soul, being a terrible waste lost in the constants of mouse shit headed conservatives; minutia = mouse shit to me.

About “dirty” movies and photographs: The penchant for most people, especially women in revelatory poses to gloat and smirk or giggle “Look at me mom I'm fucking” is distracting and erection killing. That said, literature or Literotica or erotica invites for the most part imagination sans distracting laughter at me the wanker. Lamentably most amateur writers, like myself, only marginally different, I learned between the sheets to use 'DO' words that move versus 'TELL' words that report what I did at summer camp versus literature.

In time my fetish for panties moved upward to the mind then soul of the gender I adore. Before this could happen I read Nancy Friday and Barbara Walker – does this make me a pussy boy – not really.

It was Gloria Steinem, a fox then and still, well founded journalist; both.

My lover Carol McCabe my original muse working together we 'double teamed' her Carol used shorthand and while catching up on her notes I'd take over carrying the tread and/or begin a new one -- I'd been to the shorthand inventor's mansion sans the inventor. Bob Cavalli, a flutist, owned it, who like dad played in the W.P.A. Cincinnati Orchestra bassoon 2^nd chair premier “The Fire Bird”. Bob bought the mansion and dad being a car freak, bought one of the only twenty Phantom Drop Head Coupes made with Brewster Body. I've seen models of it on nicknack antique stores. I don't cry remembering dad's Ferrari my college education – are you listening tiny dick head one testes brother? After the fact, the betrayal, I played his tape over and over only now realizing we were friends more like brothers than you are fuck head.

I had collected a number of wonderful subjects and stories 'on the street' as a photojournalist and quickly discovered Carol's abilities, lingerie, trust and faith in me personally. True intimacy is not sexual exclusively but on a higher plane friendship . . . To watch these two extraordinary sexy and powerful women at play, fencing as it were, remains another of now many women mentors most of whom I did not have sex or make a baby with but they gave me the 'virgin birth' I now recognize as the who I am.

To give birth to your soul it helps a great deal to trust the All of You inside and do I mean everything. We being, as they say in AA, no better than the secrets we keep a crime against your self and all those, who were you transparently honest, could help you as “sponsors” or mentors. The birth I imply is long painful but with each contraction the suffering slowly become joy, bliss, then ecstasy. Becoming fearless of even God and all the Dragons' you will learn to ride gleefully.

Since this whateveryoucallit started with a personal journal I tend to forget that as in life so in writing every new reader is a whole new universe of potential but at that I tend to forget to mention the horror show of my life.

About the panties, a common if not the most common of male fetishes, they represent the closest we as boys and men are able to touch the wonder and grandeur of the women we love. Having fessed up that I wore them is a minor thing for which many transvestite or transgender are beaten to death essentially by very fearful and weak people unable to identify, then inhabit and incarnate their sexual identity or choice. When women ruled transvestites would skin them alive wearing their skin in faux emulation of what they perceived as the ultimate power.

About power. Give a little and lose very much since the psychotics who run everything have no empathy. Instead of serial wankers or rapist they become greedy for more power never having enough. 

Addiction question #1; what do you want? “MORE”

Moving past masturbation, wearing panties the real issue is with aid of the above I began falling through illusory 'foundations or floors' falling to a deeper understanding of what women are really about.

I love a woman nine years my senior and doubt fully that we will ever become lovers in the sense most people argue about. Re: male/male or female/female relationships. Love is not merely about sex but hugely more eventually friendship. In theory 'soul mates' is juvenile bull shit since a fully formed soul in relationship another, what ever combination, doesn't matter trust and respect does meaning that the other is free to come and go or not go. Independence and freedom from fear versus slavery and a breeding stall. Sex with another independent soul is like God it goes on forever; the Old In & Out just doesn't cut it.

We males begin equal with females yet become retarded at the first blush of hormones and orgasms; dead in the head longing to stick our scepters in walls, doors and anything in a skirt or opening of any kind. “Men wonder when and women why?” Sex then becomes political, a power issue and stalemate. Kurt Vonnegut once remarked the experience of waking to the realization that his school mates were running the country.” Or as in the current case, the world. Instead of being bemused I am amused at the theft of everything knowing them better than they know themselves. Since instead of Harvard or Brown I went to a different school where I stay now The School of Hard Knocks.

The difference between 'us' being that while they are intelligent they lack any moral or ethical sense other than knowing how to abort or merely fuck it up to their profit.

In the Ten Commandments it is recommended that we honor our parents and like Jesus' “Love thy Enemy” to me it means respect not trust.

I know my enemy since I am one to myself. Yet, sometimes, maybe maybe not, I learn to balance between, I mean after all I still seek panties by view or otherwise, to choose mindfully what works in terms of real Flesh and Blood . . . the landscape and pallet of God's dream of us.

PS . . . about 'poetry' at least my perversions both well actually too many to list not enough space on The World Wide Web don't you know.!?

In poetry one has license to spindle and mutilate words mashing them together without reason other than moving the narrative where you want it to. It should be obvious by now I don't know how to punctuate so I leer from behind the Goddess's skirts poetry the greatest after prayer form of literature known though out history but at that nothing compared to dance or music. I've reported this incident before but it's too good not too. Dad was speaking to someone at the front of the store --- did I tell you that whenever a nubile what ever age came in, He's say; Oh Johnny I need help – so the topic was lunch and he always thought me insane probably too right there bro I fell off my chair laughing when he said, “I'm good I'll eat up the street.” My vision version perversions seeing him like Stephen Norman Spratt's mother naked eating grass with he equally naked driving her forwards with spurs.

Oh God! I have never had this much fun ever! Forget women just give me a keyboard.

. . . what can I expect ED AIDS or Alzheimer’s here I come already demented at birth.

© 2012 by Jack Spratt All Rights Reserved

120713 combined 05:11 gruel & 120713 10:29 imperfect

120713 05:11 gruel

We are condemned to life without knowing we're in captivity for only a time To learn to love and be love given wholly free no coupons required & in some sense I don't at the moment fully apprehend when we get to go Home.

Get it stupid?

You & I are in kindergarten yet metaphorically we've never left.

I had a cat black & white acquired from Woodstock, Illinois from a woman who rescued animals abused and abandoned. . . . Think about Bill Murray and his punishment . . .

I wanted the cat as a companion for my friend Rags so named because otherwise he would merely be called “cat: gray & white” he reminded me of L. L. Bean's wonderful wool & cotton socks I called 'rag socks' of which I had so many pairs I simply washed them all together at once in cold water Tide with red boxer shorts & the white panties stolen or acquired or torn off – well only in the best time of my life delivering newspapers before electric clothes dryers I'd spot them adoringly titillatingly flirting inciting in the breeze – at other times I'd raid laundry hampers soiled always more better better yet mostbestus something like asbestos but not lethal & if really possessed and/or inspired I'd sneak into houses to see what I could find to take out like a drive through smorgasbord U know those “Don't Deliver on Vacation” occasionally she'd come to the door and give little johnny her son's friend the subscription payment in panties clutching a moist towel to her wet body not creamy jeans but volcanic eruptions in my mind

Odd I could keep my cool and pretend not to be stepping on my tongue or otherwise addled Then wearing one pair the other over my head the last wrapped around my scepter I mean penis I'd have and soul depleting spend if they were mom's i'd be very careful to leave no traces at the departure point or what the Brits call euphemistically an/the “Arrival”

Take little snarky Stephen's enormous mom her preference was for nylon – cotton boring I'd like to destroy Jockey – lace nice to look at but scratchy no not into pain or groups or abuse of any kind merely dude to dudedette Her's were approximately the size of a circus tent before erection not and add insult to injury she hoarded pantyhose that invention I would retroactively abort at death they were found in fishbowls filled with quarters beneath and behind piles of National Geographic like national monuments high with tiny passageways and littered across the kitchen nook table were dildo catalogs guess dad couldn't get it up past seventy two I have only a few months before becoming useless myself yet on a good day I can see forever!?

Normally I say in the Mens Locker room “I'm still (instead of vertical to women only more often than not) erect and salute the flag seeing Old Glory and I'm looking at the right side of the grass.” Something like Grand Old Party but I digress . . .

Some women I can crank up yet they while laughing are essentially some other dude's bookend dead to me and of those I get to 'know' better they too take more time than it's worth since I fall asleep between their thighs not sighing but snoring with lockjaw limp no reward the salute Grand Old Party of The Glory flapping.

yapping?

Well dear friend and brother Saint Thomas Aquinas move over it's my turn now.

She, Janina, my sister was a kind & loving six I twelve she scratching my back, mom & dad absent at a party getting hammered he returned her straight stiff as a board over his shoulder One time he with everything packed in his care left; “You're in charge.” and left.

So we were alone I cannot for the soul of me understand why she took off her clothes displaying her Mount of Venus to me for observation come later obsession well I'm a Boy still and She a Girl still even now we love one another we're family.

I said it's time for bed she dressed then undressed into her Doctor Dentons and went to sleep I shortly followed in my own bed.

Cup'pla weeks later she raised her skirt in -- what – kindergarten or first grade in the cloak room. Then my banishment began.

Mom already given to violent erratic behavior sober or intoxicated went not ballistic but nuclear accusing us of incest

Janina off to the gynecologist maidenhead check

Johnny put in “Coventry” fed, clean clothes but otherwise not addressed with anything but flaming eyes silence for mor3e than a year or more-or-less

In all the traumas from shortly after birth my mind flat lined a roaring white static leaving me emotionless for all intents and purposes a dead child standing staring and it drove her insane or maybe more so than before she wiped the walls with my excrement or threw me naked in November out the back door the lock snicking memory is a strange and wondrous consciousness

Dad found me after all the times he stood silent witness to her madness me upside face down in an oak high chair screaming the oatmeal my daily bread floor to ceiling at twelve years of age running away in the Innis Arden Golf Course – can't remember what hole but somewhere in the middle how he found me and took me back to what?

So began my slavery to him & the other half of the god head No more summers with my beloved Mama Lu . . . as Jung said “The Great Mother” true . . . my maternal grandmother the other Nora nude with dignity taught me how to tie my shoes still remembered with love too. The paternal one.

Devolved into anytime they could leave they did with me more-or-less in charge in time their absence would grow longer from a day or two to ten then fourteen or so returning mother put roses in the bidet a tip he'd given them to her can't remember how many times they returned from various trips dad wanted to take singly See he never paid her for 24/7/365 slavery to him as she once told me at something like nineteen He wanted a whore & The Virgin Mary Me he paid minim wage for a six day week stint I ran away again in junior high school she saw me I didn't stop running across fields parking lots and penniless boarded a train she behind me in an idling previously used Cadillac the light changing green to red The conductor asked for my ticket then money I flimflammed him saying I was off to college and mom had wired the money ahead I jumped off in North Brotherly Love Philadelphia rolling down the gravel rail bed walking into town saw a woman drug to a car I started to intervene and she plead with me not too, silent, with her eyes moving on I hitchhiked to Cincinnati to see Mama Lu were my only knowing of a home was I was reading “A Day On Fire” biography of Charles Baudelair Big for my age from thirteen playing sexual games with eighteen year old female at Summer Music Camp my pal the blind one groping them openly they giggling like when you . . . isn't Google just fucking wonderful couldn't remember your middle name Edward or Norman Spratt.

Google it Abusive father fucker abuser of my daughter calling her “NIGGER” . . . sexual predator Brother fucker what a leader you will make of men typical of those you served your Country so anally with in the Pentagon as a civilian sub-contractor making $150,000 ~ $180,000 per annum. . . . (note: anal retentive) . . . in Google proper their Chrome Browser though they know I like looking at naked women . . . just put it in the address line

. . . I digress, sorry bout that

oh! yeah Standing beside a dead naked limbs truncated no bark tree *

. . . * My idiot editor who knows even less than the idiot author of this who knows nothing about the art and craft of writing left hanging at me the 'editor/author' @ the tree . . . in a olive corduroy jacket rumbled starving penniless as I am and will remain until I die my thumb out little to no traffic . . . along comes a '52 Chevy coupe somewhat greenish packed front to back with father mother and maybe five to seven children of mocha color maybe Mexican or Native American with a few African American genes to lend spice . . . they stopped made room for and fed me lovingly all the way to Cincinnati . . . go back to the

. . . another story sometime . . . like the one in my dream with Jesus crying abused . . . oh before I forget since Google now knows everything like The Thought Police and Rapist Incorporated The Patriot Act I also have a kink MILF mothers Id like to Fuck or in your case simply Mother Fuckers and since I know you very well from many conversations and you're being AC/DC minor flourish drum roll please FATHER FUCKER as well; are you please putz weenie boy I imply nothing by the following yet should God get His Hands on you as He did me . . . well he's considerably more forgiving and merciful than I Yet should you make amends make amends restoring some small fraction of what you stole from my sister . . . forget me . . . I too may forgive you are you will return as dear old dad once described of others he didn't like: A butt boy in a Calcutta Whore House for Elephants, rectum approximately the size of your greed.

I'm convicted of the following, I should have said, considering the performance – You are Republican – aren't you? Synonymous with greed avarice unconscionably rude to the last in line where you will find a permanent home as in the beatitudes mention '.. the meek shall inherit the earth .. ' . . . fond of Elephants? Of course you are.

Leaping Saint John on a pogo stick this is more complex than War & Peace mating with Ulysses of Joyce not Alfred, Lord Tennyson

. . . a brief, as in granny panties, better to wear since lacking hips they don't fall down make me slip off the bed and have on average larger Ball Rooms – obviously no problem for you bro since even your mothers would be like a nightgown to swim in don't you know little cock? One ball wonder!

. . . on a brief aside I will forgive you since I loved you then and now, remember “Dove” solo sailing around the world; the inscription? For your birthday? Though penniless dad's calling me before dying took a longtime to recognize as peer friendship his greatest gift to me was he himself . . . and that is priceless since it never runs out. There is no end to love, empathy mercy, forgiveness the highest of these

amen

PS there is more. Where do you think this shit comes from? Make believe?

& Knowing God I would be known better for honest transparency “To See, To Walk, To Talk and love Thee more Dearly Day by Day more Daily and I have no fear of death or pain for I so love Thee http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0070121/

120713 10:29 imperfect

Always a contender

a wannabe no champion advocate instead

I met and photographed clerics & priests & sisters/brothers religious & others whole or holy unknown

from whom unsolicited I received confessions to which I replied whether explicit implied or merely prayed for now & then & continuous within the Prayer Wheel of me my mind

Silently requesting; 'pray for me a sinner too – Go forth and sin no more. Amen'

And if remembered my pain and suffering so complex as theirs – I'd add:

“Rejoice in the Lord, I will say again: Rejoice!” http://bible.cc/philippians/4-4.htm . . . .'in all things are Heaven sent'

Weeping now it is not for what was written by/for me The Author of us all who loves all persons born beyond all reason in all seasons of suffering and pain; the former is choice the latter is inevitable

No punishment intended no grief required

Once I was falsely accused of raping my sister and thus made an emotional unicorn/ castrato/eunuch abused and neglected from infancy until I became large & wise enough to engage my mother in any way to survive the depredations of her imaginings.

My favorite. We'd been chasing the cat out from under my bed laughing at his, “Smudge”, escaping our gentle prodding the brush end of a broom. Unbeknownst Mother during arrived later on sharing coffee I intuited her agitation whereupon I calmly placed my half filled cup upside down Her nascent obloquy leached fled forgotten like Smudge his hair ball deposited on the floor not the rug. Let me see now between 12 and 16/17 the second accusation.

It is through this experience that I write having empathy for those who civilian or cleric abuse sexually/physically/emotionally child/adult/animal/Earth – faith in forgiveness none perfect all learning before being judged by He who walks with us silent unseen.

Little confident in my current play with words & God i sense whether by resurrection or reincarnation those of us consciously mindful pass/fail will return to attempt to graduate the school of Hard Knocks

Had I not forgiven my baby half-brother half flesh of me and dad I'd die of shame with him still a monkey on my back.

© 2012 by Jack Spratt All Rights Reserved

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