To speak, or remain silent, while in the presence of any, or all life, is a rending of my soul.

For some it is obvious that I can love them and never see them again. While others I would, of or by, my own volition tear them limb from limb. Or merely feed them bits and pieces of themselves bite by bite. And like the Drug Lords of Ciudad Juarez take hours to make you wish to have never been born. They who live by usury, prostitution of others, enslavement of any kind, dismemberment to hide their victims remains are eternally damned by their own deeds; conscious or unconscious choice. It takes violence to know it in others and respond appropriately.

I am to you merely another litter of pink ham on tasteless Wonder Bread stale, easily broken or crumbled apart: my cat, my car, my computers and cameras stolen. All evidence buried or burned beyond recognition.

However at the time of your death by violence, disease or old age: you and your family--forward and backward--throughout all time will stand for your crime before the Judge.

And I, as a mere child of God, as you are, may, or may not, stand in testament for mercy or argue that you will never die; but incinerate--and return to do it all over again. Your mother, father, brothers and sisters, your children, your pets all of them will die before your witness begging to be allowed to end the pain. Then you. And I, this fabbly, old soon to die, white man, will tell you: I know how to pray for mercy; or that I be taken instead. Not my beloved, my beloved child or beloved pet.

Nothing. No amount of money. No stature, acclaim, political posture or pose, holy office, celebrity or fame will save you. You would do well to remember there are no secrets from God.

And though I seem normal, I would advise you keep clear. Though I am old and now nearly weak as I was an infant; my prayers for you can and will destroy you as well or heal.

Though I know by experience this is God’s employ at the end of what you call ‘life.’ I equally know this is our home, our planet, our nest, it is soon to end. This is known to me, not from God exclusively; but from ordinary folk of all persuasions and origins. It is not so much that they fear or anticipate the ending as much as no longer feeling it worthy to vote, living or seeking medical aid from an industry exclusively devoted to profit. Shielded by politicians, lawyers, insurance executives and their minions devoted to white collar crime.

Worse: they seem disinterested in anything save entertainment essentially devoted to violence. To me, in my thinking-sensing-feeling-intuition, functional and perceptive level of being conscious. Ethical and moral: this equally applies to all who purport (pretend) to be in authority over any and or all life. These signs of the times are omens of terror, fear beyond imagining, weakness and helplessness.

Do I know helplessness. Or do i not? In and through the my near death and deaths of my children?

I speak exclusively for myself. If you wish to speak with God you must ask and be answered by God yourself. Or listen closely to the pleas of those you rape before beheading or merely torture for your pleasure to divert you from being bored. A live action video game.

Just to prove I am human and care for current affairs. I took a woman neighbor to dinner, she asked, and I care enough for her, and her poet son, known only by his published writing, to do so.

The restaurant was bereft of patrons. And as I am wont to do, I struck up conversation with the wait staff. He from Hatch, New Mexico and his fiance. Towards the end I asked who he would vote for--a personally important issue to me for a host of reasons I’ll leave to your imagining. Not the least of which did I stand in defence of America and know many wounded, returned ignored veterans and their friends dead. All we who fought or stood ready, from beginning to end, that this be a free country democratic. “


Free
in that we can throw the bums out slightly retarded by compare to what I am told is the Parliamentary way. Meaning when the government becomes inoperative the various participants are thrown out of office. The bums are thrown out of the game.
are their employers are we not? If not? Why not?

In closing I lead him further, a journalist I am practiced in the presence of all those who purport to be superior beings or Masters of the Universe. . . .A very good old Tom Wolfe coined phrase. I knew your lover and loved her well but had another agenda to attend to . . .

The young man, a student at NMSU, wanting to become, either a civil or electrical engineer, said when prompted; “Obama?” Momentary silence.

Or Romney?; “He is not Christian!” . . . All the rich white residents in Hatch, they run the town and enslave the people to their agenda, especially the women who knowingly allow themselves to be Stepford wives. Are all Mormons.

Regardless the fact that Mitt Romney obviously wants to pretend to be president, like the last Republican, for or despite his father’s life accomplishments, while allowing a savage barbaric person who is mostly concerned about sheltering selfishness lead.

The Mormons are not reasonable people. They give lip service to Jesus while practicing obscene rituals in robes using mystical, magical, symbols. Allowing only allow fellow initiates (no females allowed) to to participate. Add to which they run/rule Las Vegas in contravention of their own espoused avoidance of gambling . . . I have further proofs that will go to Heaven or Hell with me.

A brief aside: What is impermissible in most monistic theologies is divination; since once proven profitable it becomes a cult or an addiction vacating all conscious thought; a dependence an addiction.

I once thought Dick Cheney was a boy who would torture small animals with fire or tar; kittens and puppies for example.

Let us take solitaire, or gin rummy. Both games taught to me by my mother. With very strict rules. As is true of most games.
Especially playing against Mom and she was very clever. Cards were once thought to represent the will of God, or Gods. Used primitively as illustrations of holiness. Evolving from books to decks then too colored windows used to inform those who could not read what Moses or Jesus or God was all about.

I think most bankers, stock brokers, commodity dealers are gamblers who cheat; longing to cover their crimes like the Drug Lords in Ciudad Juarez -- what goes around, comes around. Leaders who pretend to be, or want to be “Leaders,” simply for the title and not the -- Before God Truth-- responsibility; will cheat you out of your false teeth or panties every time.

Not to be mysterious, to you, or myself, I know Obama from first hand witness those he helped: the poor. Mr. Romney sent most of the available jobs off shore with his money hidden in false accounts unaccountable like Dick Cheney. In general I vote the person tusting no slogans or theatrical performances . . . like lies advertised. Advertising financed by wealthy individuals with holier than thou agendas. Making the ‘elected’ dependent upon the wealthy then dictated to what the wealthy want in turn financed by fleecing the poor with obscene covert interest rates, confiscation of property nearly all paid with no recourse or appeal. These people are now dictating their agenda not merely lobbying for it. The final secular judge, the supreme court is now loaded with conservatives placed there by the last incompetent Republican fool.

Suck it up. Get over it. The Industrial Age is dead. The manufacturing jobs causing the destruction of the American family and farm, the harmony of small town life are now both a ruin. Think robotics and the prostitution of our parents to the manufacturers and bankers around the Great Depression.

In my reading of the Bible I came to sense God never intended for us to build churches or temples but ourselves into vessels of love. All current and/or dominant religions worship and believe, have faith in the same God why should we be killing one another over property? Only the arrogant or ignorant idolize buildings like the World Trade Towers a concentration camp of thousands prostituted to the Great God Mammon.

A clever foe would attack what we deem most holy with our own resources and cause America to implode at little to no cost to the foe. Or cause the principal controllers of The City of Peace, Jerusalem to attack and thus destroy not just the false president, presiding secular ruler of Iran, but all his population as well. What part of our Lord Jesus Christ’s message to “love your enemy” dying to make his point, did you or do you not understand? Who or what are the suicidal maniacs
involved?

. . . more on these issues at another time; I make no threats only promises and would or will die for my honor to deliver them.

This is the information age. Meaning garbage in garbage out. Meaning essentially if you do not know how to operate a computer beyond turning it on or off you are infantile.

To me Bill Gates and wife, the richest people, in the world are frauds, in so many ways I doubt that I’ll waste my allotted space on Google to enunciate. They know they have disabled original thinking and the creative property of minds that they could not comprehend in a trillion years. Yet hold more power than most nations monetarily. Gates, himself, a clever businessman invented  nothing but stole for pennies what became trillions an operating system called CPM and by finding the talent also stolen, the idea from Steve Jobs of using a graphical interface called a GUI to operate what otherwise demanded a command line to do anything with. Unlike Henry Ford, Gates is no prophet, he is an theif and asshole.

So help me God. If I am wrong in what I’ve written, let me see no light, no dawn, kill me now or hold me captive to Alzheimer's, Parkinson, MS, Lou Gehrig or what killed Woody Guthrie. Make it so I cannot eat, or drink, and starve to death very slowly or merely let me linger for eternity in Hell bereft of your beloved voice. My only abiding fear of You my beloved Friend.

I curse no one, they curse themselves.

Amen.

PS  Bye-the-Bye:
Solitaire played with Las Vegas rules, under constant vigilance, meaning get out of the house or I’ll break your face than your fingers; one by one . . . Then your wife and children, their and your mothers, fathers, uncles and aunts: Kapish? Well now if you really want to play solitaire you will soon discover the odds are against you and you can or may continue to play fascinated by the cards endless variations; the combinations thereof. And for a time forget you are you but floating somewhere in the Milky Way or beyond.

Whoever I am I haven’t yet begun to sing, sign or say, pray or write my love of/for and trust in God.

121006 00:17 to speak or remain silent
©2012 by Jack Spratt - All Rights Reserved

gratitude to PARABOLA magazine for this illustration

“Accept the truth from whatever source it comes.” -Maimonides

Power is a curious ambition prompted more by fear than inspiration breathing the breathe/breathed of Love from the source.

Long before I discovered the quote, opening this post, I would wander aimlessly through the barrage of quotes--on offer--via the Internet. In collecting them I began to form a Self that had remained invisible to me until I applied the quotes as Post-It Notes to my self otherwise naked, alone and making funny faces whenever I’d pass the mirror in the bathroom across from my sleeping place.

I actually don’t have or use Post It-Notes and once again I bless with my gratitude both Les Krims & his mother for their collaboration.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Les_Krims

I do, however, use Sticky Notes offered by various sources but in my case, Microsoft Corporation, on my various monitors to note days of obligation to others.

It follows that I am impressed with the similarities of all those we call Prophets, by any gender, creed or race, remain Prophets to me. I, when available, copy and paste their faces or representations symbolic with their quotes.

It follows farther that I love beauty, not merely bodies of woman whose panties I would like to remove after fondling their posteriors across the -- never cotton -- God forbid! -- but satin, nylon, rayon, slippy stuff sliding my palms and fingers grasping gasping in adoration the touch of a woman’s fanny; though I call Annie Fanny I did not until recently realize there was a cartoon figure so named of impossible breasts and posterior. I since I’m falling into a fetish no longer required save when alone and in a mood to masturebate I’ll add that I am indescrimite: the age of the wearer -- I was born a letch, a dirty old man, before I left my mother’s womb; get it?

I live in a community dominated by women who outlive men on average. We boys never grow up or old enough to equal the wisdom of women. The inequality began with the first woman from whom Adam sprang.

That said by way of preamble. It is awkward for me but -- more-or-less nightly -- with or without a cigarette or pants on; or if with them on: summer or winter briefly do I seek where the moon is.

Just awhile ago I did it seeking the moon which has been beloved to many who adore her before time began soon ending. And then it befell me as the thief beside Jesus forgiven, either way I remained a Jew.

A slave to greed, power and crimes against humanity. Enslaved to agendas suggested if not demanded or manipulated/mandated by ‘authority’ to do this or that: e.g. mob roaring for Jesus to be put to death. . . .My problem with where I live is that there are some who fear me and being bored watch me and then despise me with or without clothes, pants or panties. I cannot win with them. I have, in general, stopped trying. Always tempted, I am afterall male. A ram or Lion or both.

When you Love God, God responds making life very simple and direct. God has no one, no hands, no feet to nail to wooden crosses or wear as hood ornaments on gigantic vanity automobiles which are, in point of fact, trucks. Several interesting facts I can elaborate but will not. Any more than: once my trust has been betrayed do I waste my breath on ‘saying asshole’ or ‘F’ face, when I see an SUV. Or as we used to say about Cadillacs: “JEW MOBILE!”

It follows that those who discomfort me are well steered clear of. Since I know myself capable of destroying them by any means or measures and/or die in the process. Not caring a fart for immortality either granted by God or legend.

It follows that I could have easily done the same to my father when he told me of my disinheritance for not having a child (Male Preferable) or children and having adopted a Nigger Child. . . .my heart is beating to keep up with my blood pressure. Yet I would/will go nominally farther. He who uses my common name, by answering to it, as published for forty years in the national newspaper of record: The New York Times. Should be warned that I have less control and good will towards him then as I do the man who told me he was going to cast me out of his apartment . . . i need stop with my list of potential violence. Returning to peace and love which I normally, not nominally, give to all and sundry life.

I can and will use names specific and cost people their employment if pressed. I am a sophist for love, not greed, as I was born to be.

. . . this night while fully clothed I strolled out of the place where I sleep for now on the asshole’s sufferance (daily in question) also possibly being observed by people so bored with life they really don’t have any other reason to live; other than make their neighbors as miserable as themselves. I looked for the, as yet absent, moon and realized that I am of less consequence than a match struck upon a becalmed midnight sea and flicked to hiss extinguished extinct compared to the vagina surrounding all the twinkling masculine stars.

. . . add to which i betimes sense us a virus upon a grain of sand within the mind of god.

Jesus martyred Himself that there be an end to: an eye for an eye. I think, mostly, that when you take another's eye/eyes you disable them from being whole or holy and we have enough unholiness as it is becoming more so.

I am nothing. Yet like all we the ignored, meek, crippled, halt, lame and blind will inherit the Earth once the false prophets for profit have desecrated it to their satisfaction and we will know eternal life in joy and peace while they live the lives they deserve and That My Dear Children of God is that.

VOTE!

. . . put your two pennies in the well knowing them your last

“It is better and more satisfactory to acquit a thousand guilty persons than to put a single innocent one to death.” -Maimonides

121005 21:49 MDT Maimonides
©2012 by Jack Spratt - All Rights Reserved

who i am to myself is unknowable but announced only in death and at that I am in no rush to the cemetery actually i might be left in ashes in a dumpster for all i care my soul fled at the moment of expiration.

I am neither this name I publish under, nor the thoughts of my of vastly self educated mind, or obligated to my teacher who is . . . thanks to Coleman Barks (poet & Rumi) . . . not called “God” but is known to all creation by a plethora of titles my favorite being the all, should I capitalize? It would be atypical of me since I call the all my beloved my husband/wife/pet/child/the sunrise and set the moon the stars and now i’m weeping . . .

Can I go on? Yes. You see I play The Passion Play over and over and this next Christmas with or without M or Annie and me will be the best Christmas ever for I know because the Bible told me so that my children are in the arms of The All in whose care they occasionally surface smiling at me with the eyes of others regardless of race, creed, gender or heaven not forfend for all love is equal and blest by the all boys with boys, girls with girls, or girls with dogs, boys with sheep, it is all longing for The All.

She is glorious a grandmother looking, to me, like the Virgin Mary, ripe and fecund at a apogee age. Despite having only one testilce now if I had four I’d have fewer balls than she and oh dear God do I admire that in a woman even if she looks nothing like thee. Seldom there at water aerobics last I saw her the time before this I annotate she entered the pool rigid and immediately I felt her pain vicariously extrapolated through my eyes not my spine. I am not only a man of a certain age who still can become erect but also entertain the ideal of bedding her in wedded or unwed bliss. Having offered to castrate myself in order to proclaim my love for M this may or maynot be disloyal or infidelity since we seem married like siamese twins conjoined by head and heart yet I have no jealousy of her loving Oscar or Nazoni Our celibacy is by choice since we could fall so far into one another, at least could I? Yes! Of Course. Celibacy is a choice to be for others gender neutral . . . yet being human we celibates fail and are seldom perfect as is no life lived and some who fall in love with a child knowing not how else to express that love like Michael Jackson fall easily prey to public opinion or like myself with mom knowing not how or why I loved her as i did and do though she virtually castrated me at twelve I still lust for M and/or the woman with two daughters raised alone her husband fun/run off with a younger less -- forgive me girls-- balls.

Now if she or M arrived at my door sans clothes or in bathing costumes I would give pause to what I am about to say . . . I have faith that a woman is God more Woman than man and by God I am lead to be celibate so I can know both M & the grandmother so foxy I nearly die being near either both singly or otherwise together heaven forfend!

Forgive my perversion into salacious carnal thoughts I am nothing if not transparently honest.

Tide Time Seasons and Reason wait for no one who converses with God and of gender issues I am married to God more profoundly than the marriage I’ve know these past few best most joyous and peaceful years of my existence at least that part I am or for now be conscious of. Ever mindful of where my wandering wondering journey takes me moment to second heartbeat to breathe no longer concerns how many of any of the above are left . . . i fell into the possibility that I am the thief who asked Jesus forgiveness beside Him on another cross just like his him and i and the other thief all naked about to in death departed release our bladder and bowel functions no longer needing them.

Of women and men I’ve known a few good ones more women than men and of the Woman God is to me I adore more than myself then Annie then M and the other’s I’ve know including my mom.

Be careful out there, it is crowded and chaotic, if operating a motorized vehicle pay attention, being ever mindful that you are responsible for not simply your self but the self of all life around you: children and dogs with cellular telephone payling killing games instead of solitaire.

Illustration used in gratitude for and by i am . . . baglodijayadev @ my opera.com GOOGLE IT!

121005 20:30 MDT who i am is
©2012 by Jack Spratt - All Rights Reserved

confusion maybe not

could be that you can heal yourself if you stop thinking in the circle of confusion let’s say drop out not drop drugs or smoke pot temporary palliatives the hangover will last a lifetime and the visions forgot worse buyer’s remorse since you may have to sell your self and or soul to sustain the fix so let’s say you were sent to exotic foreign vacation lands and the natives were restive and resentful of your being in their face and space & you were told what to do while there then came back minus your legs and once-upon-a-time you were a cheerleader or quarterback now the throwing arm in pieces your mind scrambled and nobody wants you without what they wanted to see under your skirt in their opinion you made a mistake serving your country well just for love lets say it was just what happened not your fault or the misjudgment of doubled down and lost you plus the investment so what are you going to do stew for eternity over it our get about living what is in front of you your life as it is get over the cause the condition and live the real in this moment outside the circle of confusion you have now the first day for the rest of your life to live and stop living the last day it was as it was in confusion as boy girl child adolescent then adult the same issue prevails since your parents were once just like you at your age facing the same issues economic, success, ambition, get rich and famous, problems, opportunities and gave it all up to have you giving you life conscious of itself as just life maybe wanted maybe not but there you are free to choose the this moment forgetting the rest remember this brethren we are what we are in this moment eternal flowing through us do you want love then be loveable and receive the wealth of that greater than anything talking back or rusts there is a place within us that water will make blush like the desert after a spring rain that is the real you not what people tell you its not so much what they or you say but the silence of love once experienced it grows if you give it away making room for more then more comes some things just happen when you happened to be there now no fault no confusion just be healed by what your are exclusive of what you think you should be extrude yourself from the confusion and be love for everything and everyone it will confuse the hell out of them. Don’t be a nut case be a fruit cake. LOL <: span="span">

PS . . . 19:42 those of us who Jesus left behind forgot his laughter and the light of his loving sight so generously spread even upon those of us who slayed Him indifferently
. . . yet He remains so near . . . so very dear to and in my heart
PPS . . . 19:54 in review, the painful part of writing, do I tamper with or otherwise modify or leave stand what was writing in a fit of love. No. I know it difficult for even me to read and I am nominally the author yet instead of rewrite tickle and tamper ala Agee I’ll let it go as is . . . Be Well
God bless God pretty please


121005 07:07 (confusion) maybe not©2012 by Jack Spratt - All Rights Reserved

Looking back, at now and forward as an old man I am wont to do. I fall into sadness and joy then ecstatic and back again. Discovering I have no fear for my friend is always with me: me. It’s okay to be a girly boy with panties over my head laughing at myself in the mirror remembering it was a near and dear thing the difference between being a girl or boy only one percent and to become a real 50/50 in ways always is a blast something to pass forward as a gift of abandonment to real life instead of the pale white bread covered with wheat paste alternatives born in America or Bangladesh ya gots’ ta know it more better to be free than enslaved.

To know and love God and in return to be so loved to have one another as playmates in the sandbox of creation is well what can be better?

To see this genius in another is!

To celebrate the self possession of free people is a blessing from which one can at the time of death know them blessed by whom and when and the pants wetting ecstasy of knowing yourself blest not damned either the marriage of heaven with hell and back again.

The orgasm never ends since it cycles round and round with wobble of our seasons and reasons to be at all so blest with bliss God by anyother name remains God or Muhammad or Ali or Ala or a boy named Sue Immanuel and Jacob at play dancing the tango or David doing the naked strut ecstatic into Jerusalem to be in the middle best seat in the house helpless with laughter at the proceedings since you know all the time it goes can go will go either way and God be served God’s will and intentions U go God! Rha, Rha!

She was black and sweet as midnight in Jamaica and I was in her presence while she swept the doorstep but a moment and knew then and now I’d seen not merely the Great Mother but also the Mother of Earth and oh boy that Mona Lisa Smile and how now I melt in remembrance what me worry the having is being had keeper kept and the free man/woman/person/alltogether can fly or slither hop or swim going up in smoke saved by the creator of all things no crib sheet Post-It Notes needed no faux thumbnail or fake book to steal from required the little boy burned alive for wetting his bed the little girl raped and cut apart for the Fargo Shredder its okay not for you maybe not forever or at the very least as far as your vision and version and perception will allow I can heal you since I’ve been healed of all my griefs and know them better redeemed before me reconciled submission to the will and intentions of consciousness of god is good more better. I think the next time I want to be a giraffe or an ant eater to tickle your tonsils from inside out. Best of the Best Blest yet can’t fly or swim without resistance or hop from lilly pad to frying pan without somewhere to go. As for me I love going back to Saint Louis on my tricycle with what was her name pantsless holding me for dear life as I wiz through the alleyways and the wizard of oz laughing his ha ha off mama flummoxed oxymoronic

121005 04:44 ooh yah
©2012 by Jack Spratt - All Rights Reserved

i hate being WHITE!

http://my.opera.com/baglodijayadev/blog/
her image from her fabulous eyes

121004 0821 buttons & playing cards

buttons, playing cards and pennies randomly lost & found have been mnemonics discovered in the hair shirt of my life idly stroked petted / a cat who has remained my beloved companion through life loving locust and wild honey / together wandering deserts of our times sniffing the night airs / with the moon strolls changing hour by hours / rising differently in seasons changing towards the horizons newly found wobbling from epoch to eternity sung


Randomly I asked; ‘where is Anita Hill when I needed her?’
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Anita_Hill
My grandfather’s name was Perry Hill. Who was at the time of his death, a Methodist Lay Preacher Circuit Rider serving four churches each sabbath
. . . just rolled another of how many cigarettes? From American Spirit having no chemical additives . . .
during the pause I began to remember when presenting my final child, an adopted three month girl of a biracial union and orphaned to my maternal grandmother; who was married to Perry at age thirteen. She ran from her home having said noting returning with a ‘black woman’ who she introduced as having been a slave on her father’s farm where she met and married Perry Hill. This is from memory, questions asked, random violence regarding radial purity -- I am descendant from an American Indian buried in Kentucky by name of Florence with his horse; no chronology or grave marker and no specified place in the state -- I fell to wondering was my grandfather “Black”? Or had he conceived children with the woman my beloved maternal grandmother presented saying; “Look what my grandson has done!”

Years later I hate being White!

“ 121004 11:14 Being a writer and not knowing “HOW’ is fascinating--fluid and ever changing; from hour to hour, radically day by day. I learn more from reading and following the suggestions emergent from within. And there is more joy than I have ever known and promise of even greater.

I called my namesake Sean Glenn Mack whose birthday is exactly one month before mine. To wish him an early Happy Birthday! He is one of an ever larger community of “REALITY CHECKS.” People I trust to listen and give honest transparent response. Friends I have nothing to hide and can be completely transparent to/with.

Confession and community are important for we the abused have learned to live alone with suicide as a constant relief valve. Oddly, or not oddly, so many of any age I know will confess that they too feel similarly having no fear of death and no interest in the current Industry of Medicine, Incorporated. Recognizing in the last sentence I have so much to write about before I, or we, all die at the hands of those who take from us our lives enslaved to their greed for more & more.

God does not endorse nor will I. However I will share and continue the scenario with my maternal grandmother and ‘her’ former slave.

I have held from early youth an unusual affinity for people of color. It follows that I have announced my bias based upon race -- more about the Presidential Race, perhaps, later on -- Jodi and my granddaughter are sequestered from me by their adoptive grandmother: The Bride-Of-My-Youth.

Felicitously she changed her name. No longer having a presence on the childish Facebook site--now a sewer of commercialism (being factory farmed for identity by the RNC to assess who is most likely to approve of greed via opinion groups with professional and wannabe psychologist pondering your face) . . . just occured to me; why not rename the commercial failure Fallacious, Faux or Fraud-book? I do not patronise people, businesses or institutions I do not trust; nor those who have betrayed me; though I may or may not pray for their future well being I otherwise boycott them.

God, obviously is not silent to me, if anything God talks too much, suggesting things, events and people that stretch my mind and attention like Turkish Taffy. I have spent my professional lifetime face-to-face with the Rich & Famous, Politicians, Cardinals, Bishops and so on . . . though I did photograph John Paul from a distance I wick people as well. Kings, CEO’s never really impress me since I sense the nature and state of soul’s easily. And I like my namesake Sean both abused sexually and emotionally are dangerous people. We do not care whether, when or how we die. I sense the same is equally true of all PTSD victims returning to an indifferent America for their and their friends martyrdom . . . it seems we have a vastly different personal value system up with the mightiest and down with the poor; the Seals who rendered den Laden a martyr may have, or may not have, followed the Presidents rules of engagement instead fulfilled George W. Bush’s wishful thinking: Kill First then ask questions. It is far easier to tell lies manipulating the electorate that way. Of Course! For recapturing the White House, The Congress, Senate and farther pollute the Supreme Court with the like of those with covert conservative agendas now with lifetime tenure.

. . . humor is a fabulous, if only, antidote! Imagine God laughing and playing squat tag with Jesus and Mohammad

I write without anger or haste since the realization of God’s will for me, for us, in these end times of our world. It is in fact too late to do much except give you peace and joy for what lays ahead.

Later: 15:12 One neglected project after another addressed and finished: atypically. I came to realize via an unrelated thought (process and/or string = computer programming or poetry). that I’d been hitting on women since I was a little boy. Initially not knowing what it is to make love. Rather it was, in retrospect to see if there was another woman who would in fact -- love me for me as I was and remain. One mother is enough for eternity for a man. . . And I think the sentiment is equal for women thus God is neither/nether but something other than reproductive sexually or asexually. Remember please Southern Central New Mexico is the Capital of the World population of lizards, laughingly called by some: “Lesbian Lizards” capable of inseminating themselves independent of male participation by a process that mystifies Biologist as yet.

This post has no intention. It is a cleanup round of thoughts in preparation for the next minute, hour, day or whatever. Add, that I am testing the use of Google’s “My Drive” in lieu of Jarte, used for years.

afterword 23:05

“Is this all there is?” Happens around the apogee of life. But that is merely a very mean average.
Many of the words, constructs, conceits I write about have been said long, very long ago better and by better people. That said why is the world not simply as it is but is soon to die. I take no pleasure in that ‘prophecy’ since it was said many times over. Current reading Eric Hoffer; “IN OUR TIME” clubbed senseless with his insights and connectivity between what and why. I look forward to meeting him eventually.

This business, or work, of becoming a whole person takes time. Effort. Focus. Avoidance of distractions: no TV, selective reading, etc. We have it all inside but getting inside means you have to leave “the world” behind and enter eternity within yourself.

Subject to visions and dreams. I have worked to remember and annotate them in my journal from which I occasionally tear a page or two--don’t like it? Don’t read me. I am doing the best I can do to heal myself from front to back and bottom up. Had a lot of help and am receiving more and I am going to follow this form for awhile. A lover once told me to write like I talk and I’m beginning to finally think it a better way. She was the major influence leading me to teach photojournalism university level and write a column for The Providence Journal -- I miss her. She was six years my senior and is most likely passed on. Maybe I’ll see her in heaven!?

Oh Yes! The vision I was thinking of was two glass funnels conjoined -- laughing -- sorta kinda like looking through a mirror and being looked at from the other side or talking to yourself and getting the best unimaginable answers back.

Thought the haves have stolen the world we’ll be fine on the other side--take heart; yours and mine. All the have nots go to heaven and the others well U know what Hell is like they’ll be gone ruptured: nothing for naught. . . . well finally I’m going to crash for an hour or two; maybe, maybe not . . . think of the funnels as big ears listening to one another. You don’t have to shout or cry He’s closer than you think. --Brother Lawrence + a little ad lib and tap dance thrown in.

©2012 by Jack Spratt - All Rights Reserved

121003 21:37 dreams

"Your old men shall dream dreams, your young men shall see visions."

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dream

Joel 2:28 "And afterward, I will pour out my Spirit on all people. ... ... I will pour out my spirit upon all flesh; and your sons and your daughters shall prophesy, your old men shall dream dreams, your young men shall see visions: ...

Acts 2:17 "'In the last days, God says, I will pour out my Spirit ... ... pour out my Spirit on all flesh, and your sons and your daughters shall prophesy, and your young men shall see visions, and your old men shall dream dreams; ...


Alluded to but not explicitly stated is the apprehension of spirituality in all that I write. What is now a conviction expecting death at any moment; indifferent.

Reality being what it is; remains talked about as being either Created or Evolved. The two definitions are at odds, and in a sense invalidate one another; terminally. Yet if we examine our experience: nothing changes; life remains the same. Dominated essentially by the choice of fight or flight when something or anyone imperils our being alive.

Fear and pain serve a purpose for without them you would not know what or when to remove your hand from the stove at full burn; losing your hand; possibly self-immolating. Death.

I could easily use my dreams and visions as a resource for poetry, a novel or two, perhaps a Philosophy, motive for Scientific investigation etc. Yet I write what I do, doubting that I do it well but, compelled to do so from my experience of being in harms way all of my life.

Change is the nature of the universe thus nature itself. Experientially it is chaos and most systems of governance or religion are vehicles of comfort and protection against fear. And are fearsome in and of themselves since they are directed by authorities who present themselves as capable of defending us -- at the same time exacting horrific profit from doing do.

The alternative is what has become an obscenity: the sales of snake oil remedies and false systems of belief that in their origin were true but have become contorted with greed and ambition to be King/Pope/Judge/whatever: lends the poser/pretender/elected to be in charge and control. In order for you to be safe you need to pay taxes, sacrifice your children and/or self or in other ways pay for the illusion of safety.

I, being now old, remembering my fear, pain and suffering coupled with the deaths of young friends in youth, adolescence and then my biological and adopted child’s death. In the latter case it was not physical but emotional death in that she abandoned me irrevocably. Laws of probability imply that I will never see any of what remains of my family before I die. I am at peace with that; as I am now reconciled with the many beloved who left me behind alone.

It is natural for us to be born singly and die alone commonly born into a family. We take on our families issues, ideals, ambitions and censure, discipline and laws. Often this circumstance is less than idyllic; experienced as a trial ending in death: the child, the parent or both or all three at one time.

It is my ideal, based upon my experience, to help, or guide others to heal themselves. To suggest a course correction away from the inevitable agony of being maladaptive. The rules of our father’s and mother’s coping mechanisms are antiques in a time of catastrophic change. Everything changes. The nature and facility of war, for example, has evolved from sticks and rocks to the extinction of all life instantly.

On a local family level a woman becomes a mother and changes from individual to an instinctual role of protection and the father, normally or ideally, provides food, shelter, clothing etc. The couple, now a family, is obligated to provide for a highly dependent child and this is where the problems begin. Children are not for us as pets, they are for themselves a new life able to choose, if given the chance, a life radically different from their parents.

Read within your heart what the self-fulfilling prophecies, scripts, fates, intentions drummed or beaten into you were

121001 02:08

. . . . It was within this moment that exhaustion overcame me like the hood placed upon a Gyrfalcon head and I slept the sleep of the dead knowing not whether I would arise again not caring for in God’s Love I Trust

. . . and now even now if I must will I burn myself to death on the steps of the Supreme Court to protest the ways of America in this World too soon to end at our hands & this alone will be my sole prophecy for We The People of God and The World Created all life by adoption mine to Shepard for a time  . . . the mythology of me is mine and will not share since it is for those who lead to justify our actions in the world and i merely an old man with a cat willing so soon to die to prove my love of God who speaks in my submissions to Him . . . Our Father who art in Heaven . . .

Greed and vanity have become the new ‘normal’ in America; of which none can have enough . . . the children cry for more, more, more and theft is celebrated. The time will be obvious to me and as a journalist I will alert The New York Times for whom I have worked and who know my name . . . the place is irrelevant since you who do not trust will never know what hit you, where or when you are held in ridicule in the court of public opinion via my theatrical self-immolation. My word is my bond and sufficient unto itself.

121004 21:55 To close - Finally

On a feeling level, what I sometimes snobbishly call experiential, this time between now and my next rest has been trans-formative. I have been attracted to two women in the past few years and in case I experience something very new and oddly powerful leaping to the conclusion THE IS THE ONE! The first was overwhelmed with my eroticism and eventually I gave up. The second time was a young woman visiting a friend . . . so young she could not be a “feasible” mate; besides which she had four children -- I adore children -- yet love the child in me finally loved and accepted not matter how unacceptable I actually am; at times to myself as well as those I love. Odd. God hasn’t struck me down or deaf, dumb and blind to writhe helpless in guilt and shame.

What I now sense had happened was what CG Jung implied by integration of the male and female aspects of each soul, which, of course being a soul, is more angelic than what holds it for a time in this life.

I will close with this: I am now writing in a manner that suits me just fine: anecdotal--discursive. Exactly as I would speak to you if we were friends face-to-face. And if that were so I could instantly tell if you needed me. Or I could prompt you into healing someone who need you to do so.

M told me, finally, that she intuits this in all her patients. Farther that it is obviously buried in all that we talk about all the time; at lunch after water aerobics: healing.

The illustration for this post was gleaned from PARABOLA. I cannot afford or won’t spend the money for a subscription but they send me the most wonderful teasers.

©2012 by Jack Spratt - All Rights Reserved