It is what it want's to Be: Life Love God

It is what it want's to Be

121015 04:36 divided
Divisions between men and women are difficult enough; in and of themselves.

During my last tooth cleaning I stopped the young woman's hand to say; "One more thing! You are well rid of a man who would only use you now in youth for his pleasure and seek another later on. We men never grow up. I am not attempting to seduce you; being old enough to be your father; or worse your grandfather! It is only that it has taken me seventy-two-years to gain the wisdom I've just given you.”

She, laughed.

Though in abandoning her he also withdrew support for their two young sons and is currently living at home with his parents?

Retrospectively I realize I preach wherever I go without ordination or seminary. I am free to be a clown, or jester, to gain the attention of women: Our majority oppressed, abused and enslaved part of the global community.

Being a "Bastard Catholic," an Episcopalian, catholic sans Pope. I am now less divided between sophistry for love and being a poet.

121016 00:01 reality

I just awoke with a sense of being vitally/virtually zero. Aware that I am, to myself, not a legend; or anything. Not an author, or blogger, but just another life; well aware that I am at, or near the end, of all that I've known as "my" reality. This endgame part of the play has a distinct movement in the musical sense like a concerto. Or as a play; the closing act.

Smiling. I realize that I love the generations following mine because I am conscious now that all the preceding generations faced the same issues; or those who follow will or might. It is wonderful to be anonymous and I no longer need or be greedy for another, one or many, to say “Oh Jack! You are a genius or I want your attention and your body be my lover;” or whatever.

I love calling myself "Lurch." For several reasons. Principally: by age I am losing my sense of inherent balance. Both physical and mental--More laughter at myself--Laughter being the divine antidote to death.

Mine of course.

My ridicule of anyone, deserved or not, is as consequent as barking at the moon. However I will share this for your delectation and edification IT gets more better:

Life it self; is it's own reward.

To be nothing; receiving the slings and arrows and vicissitudes as St. Sebastian did, dying and/or resurrecting or reincarnating in another form. Let's say for the humour of it; as a cockroach or wild boar/bore. Or more specifically, in my experience and expectations: a nest of dead baby pigeons, is to so love God (you do know by now that God is real, not just a figment of my aberrant abnormal imaginings?) is really worth/worthy of all my attention and devotion! More so, than my just stubbed toe! Or the coral snake beneath my pillow; or between Cleopatra's lovely succulent breasts.

That said, of God or M, I so love both either or neither together or apart that it is irrelevant what sex or not they are. I had conceptualized that M might be my my son Randy or daughter Johanna infeasible due to periodicity but the ideal of love is worthy of all power and glory; and so either way, or neither, it works for me in real flesh and blood terms.

I laugh about those who seek to know God by reason of insanity/logic/science etc. Infusing mice with "Saint Drugs." When an ignoramus, ignoble, fool such as I; can laugh at the entire history of civilization. You know I'm just like God nominally/nearly/neither? And I don't have to pay BIG PHARMA a fig or cent for their prostituting humanity as guinea pigs: who me? Of course me! Why not be crucified for profit so some other asshole can have another Escalade? It is merely quantum physics we all have none at least for your sake I hope so those colostomy bags are a pain and humiliating to empty. “Reekiness” is a phrase that either Randy or I invented, or coined he also said “peeju” but me thinks that’s his mother’s word. In either, or all, or most cases; what I think when I think about or see certain persons who know themselves scatocephalic. Why would I tell them when I would not trust them to take my sandals to the cobbler to repair the sundry broken strap? Or merely to dust them? For too me there are like in appearance a one million dollar bill making of itself a dog turd.

Oh Sweet Leaping Jesus, doing somersaults over the Himalayas; am I glad I’m not at hospice anymore. Like the army, I wouldn’t take a million to go back and do it again or over again. In the case of hospice; I’d not take a trillion seven times a trillion to go back.

Knots measured at sea tied, in why they call Samuel L. Clemens “Mark Twain.” Well folks the rope with the knots incinerated my hands, my mind, my self/soul/soles and went up in a gnat fart; no wisp of smoke--nothing no thing left.. I've left this ship of fools with all the prancing naked pretenders who would be imperious as Hitler before God in an endless Woodstock, the movie, seeing each soul destroying him.

I understand that the assholes in congress of baboons voted themselves a congratulatory raise while strangling the world with bankruptcy. Shit-for-Brains: one and all. Odd they could agree on that! I guess the Robber Barons are going broke too 2 two in tutus?

Insane? Of course I am! Making the same mistake over and over of loving you; much less god or M. It is my will for you; that you love yourself and then conspire with all the Saints and Angels and Goddesses and God-like women/men people who respond on Culture Book.Com. Anything less is merely a cesspool of commericality, fame, fortune, greed, cupidity, pretence, illusion oh well what the hevean why bother going on? Vanity is limitless.

I adore the image of Romney and Ryan clinging together in a cesspool of their own greed. Attempting not the swallow their own waste; much less the waste of women they would castrate. Setting Women's Rights back to the time of The Great Plague. Possibly, maybe, maybe not, they should just line up all women before the sea and destroy them like the Al-Qaeda dudes in Pakistan.

It used to be, when writing, I'd become frantic not to lose a single impulse or inspired thought/idea. Now, however I feel free to pee whenever, too often, the need arises. It follows that occasionally when idle I seek http://www.ighome.com/ my new 'home page' and the scuttlebutt there. Leading me to the following confession. Looking back, forward and at now.

I would say/think mommy/daddy made me do it. Whatever I concluded; it always was being victim to power. Now that I love God and will do whatever God suggests I am squarely placed upon my own recognisance to lay up or let loose whatever is within my responsibility and ability to change. It took me too long to be here, now, as I am. Yet in Randy or Johanna's cases; they knew God long before I did/do/now. My long past/dead son and daughter, plus the one who refuses to let me wish her happy birthday November 5th.

To be a teacher, once and always, is to be more noble than priest or pope. In that to teach someone to love themselves is precisely what God does for me. Note: tense: does, not did: it is a process not a magical drug or pill or miracle. God within, God without, surrounding; all invisible. How did I--or we--miss this? By idolatry and cult. Religion and those who purport to serve the public: should be taxed, possibly more than the average joe or jane, heavily. They have become not benign but malevolent killing more than creating love.

God to, for, by me can be any Goddamn self or thing, object/subject; God wants to be. Add, and I am, fine with that. Better, or more better than that: at peace, in joy, ecstatic to finally reconcile the 6 Million Jews and all those intelligentsia destroyed by Joseph Stalin; hereafter known as the 60 Million.

How many years after touching the hand, of the hand, that touched Thomas Merton's hand, did it take me to realize that I should have taken off his shoes and kissed his toes? The Dalai Lama.

©2012 by Jack Spratt - All Rights Reserved

God looks like . . .

God looks nothing like me, or you, or anyone; especially not Mitt Romney. Why am I so hard on Mr. Romney?

Think about The Messiah by Handel. As sung by their Mormon Tabernacle Choir; it is angelic. However there are several women sopranos who while little boys, caught with mommies panties over their heads, were castrated by their fathers saying; I'll teach you what it is like to be a real woman!"

Among the tenors, where the light is dim, are several women; so masculine they were sent to Denmark to become real, at least insofar as having transplanted penises, not functional but dysfunctional in many other ways as men.

It is a well known fact amongst Mormon men that the woman who passes out sheet music performed at rehearsal time was once a psychiatrist who while interviewing the Church Elders discovered that each of them shared a common lust: all wanted to have sex with their mothers! So obsessive and compelling was their lust, they refused to wait any other bride outside their family even though many were available amongst their sisters, aunts, cousins and grandmothers; only Mommy would do.

God is generous, loving, kind, slow to anger: read 1 Corinthians 13. Is there any part that might apply to Ryan? He, what he believes in, his party, their proposals are anti-life: no bargaining collectively between labor and management.

Is there justice in America? Look at the Supreme Court! Obviously I do not write for those who watch Fox TV. Witnessed only while baby sitting Alzheimer's victims who loved it. I had to sit with them for hours. They, if seated instead of laying in bed dying in peace, would leap up; it was my job to catch, or via gentle persuasion, ask them to sit back down before premature death from a broken head prevailed.

As a journalist I fell to wondering; how and why they (Fox TV & Ruppert Murdoch, Inc.) aborted  journalistic ethics and morals regarding being impartial: weighing both sides of any issue and finding balanced compromise. All things equally considered?

I am happy, whole, at peace, in the only home I've ever known, now, so late in life. I asked M who kept me from killing myself, then healed me, who is now my best friend; marginally shy of the godhead; “Why did I feel this way?” In particular regarding Rush Limbaugh. About whom I'd written a vicious screed in my journal. She implied knowing him as friend, patient, acquaintance? I am not jealous of her healing gifts generously bestowed to heal others. My sense of our dialog was that the man is an entertainer, and actor, who capitalizes on an audience fearful that America is lost, desperately attempting to conserve their understanding and definition the Bill of Rights and Constitution. Written two hundred years ago. Before everything changed beginning with the Second World War; fought on two fronts. Now no longer dependent upon muzzle loading muskets but global annihilation  with the flick of a switch . . . just like a video game.

My honor and allegiance is conservative; stemming from prehistory. Genetically I am Native American before this land was called such. Named so by Protestant Christians who were unwelcome in England for their protest of Habeas Corpus; a problem lingering today.

Theirs was an invasion of my living place and home which, by our spiritual guidance, was never owned by us but a gift of The Great Spirit: our version and definition of your God. Who in fact owns all the earth and is parent to all the people regardless of religion, color or gender now. The provider of water, clean air, trees and animals; for whose death from hunting, we would in reverence, prayerfully, thank for their sacrifice to feed us becoming our providence; our food.

Previously invaded from the South by Spanish Catholic aggression for our mineral wealth. We died by the thousands defenceless against their guns and European diseases. Some burned alive as heathen's who refused to abandon their definition of The Great Spirit. Another alien God  called Catholic who destroyed us, our peace, religion, food supply and minerals enslaving us.

Now you Republican's, having succeeded in destroying the world economy, invading Iraq without true justice, ask for another chance?

And of you, Mormon Super Star, do you tithe from gross or net income? Is that why you refuse honestly account for your income? Or is it all the influence of ill gotten gains from China? Your participation in their economic ascendency? To whom you gave away American jobs? Yet you lie about the promise of jobs having given away our industry, our trust, our wealth; our very lives. Like your ancestors did wearing our indian clothes while massacring members of your own belief, family and body of your people? You preach not what you practice being a two faced person unworthy of the title Commander and Chief or person for you and your religion are a curse upon the people from whom, and for whom, I speak.

On another tack. Was not your "prophet" not unalike Mohammed; desirous of world domination by one religion? Each thinking in their time they alone held the perfect revealed divine revelation as the only truth? If this be so, as representative of times before yours and times after yours, the currency of love is equal for both men and women without exception. The workman/woman worthy of hire for all creation and the Creator’s Children. Am I alone in cursing you for the sins of usury? To tell it like it is; go away and sing before your golden calf; a hollow idol.

The wrath of our Creator be upon your kind. For no part of the body be despised and no living water found near you. I a creature of the creator will celebrate your suffocation by usury.

121014 18:00 God looks like . . .
©2012 by Jack Spratt - All Rights Reserved

Seeking the scythe moon as yet unrisen I felt the cold more so now then the breeze joyously caressed me as I thought of my too easily familiarity with all life.

Asserting my right to be alive. What I once thought mother would deny me for anything. Jumping up and down upon me, her silences, throwing me outdoors in November naked and locking the door behind me.

If you read me, you know these rehearsals; relevant now only in that I began to put the puzzle pieces together.

Easy in the presence of God, reverting to my envisioning myself the thief dying beside Jesus promised forgiveness instead of St. John the Baptist. It doesn't matter what you call me but what I respond to. I gave my mother no satisfaction of crying then or now. Never. It drove her to near killing me leaving me no excuse for why I live; none at all.

I name my antagonist, what some could reasonably presume I would call enemy. It is true of my truth, my word being my bond; like a Quaker you can take a truck load of Bibles bury, smother me, then burn me alive, the funeral pyre like Crystal Night Nazi's dancing in glee. And prove nothing more than your idolatrous belief in books, theory or theology and not my truth. The people I describe both those individuals and the institutions I have experience of are like the uneducated Islamic who shot the child in Pakistan for being a female in opposition to them.

Live each day as your last praying to the cosmos you're life having had some nominal value to others.

Ms. Minnette Rich and Mr. Burt Crisp were recent problems raising a number of ethical and moral issues in real time centered in a waste of my time and energy. Yet I prayed and pray for them now.

The Prayer Wheel of my mindfulness grown infinitely larger than I ever previously imagined before. Both individuals give lip service to kindness--yet only now do I recognize my own unwillingness to forgive or have compassion for myself--a far greater gift than either could otherwise have bestowed.

Randy would ask of me; "What can I (or should I) do, the children steal my wig or hat all the time?" Covering the consequence of baldness attributable to the experimental remedy for his Leukemia. Being a parent, of either gender, is sacrificial in nature; if taken responsibly in love. Memory fails my actual answer but it was vaguely akin to, "blessed are the peace makers" to which he said; "I'd rather be pissed off than pissed on!"

Both Rich and Crisp have no ideal they were flirting with a death rendering them wishfully begging to have never been born. Redundant and didactic I, instead prayed for them and continue to do so without conditions save that they know the will of God for them. Not for one second presuming to be the agency of their learning.

Yet both are agents of authority and would keep the status quo at any expense including throwing me beneath the wheels of passing cement truck. Think not in terms of retaliation but holding them accountable for their choices for a person who otherwise is kind to those who need it most.
They, themselves need as much if not more than the dying, yet use their nominal power to disable others from giving their charity or love compassionately.

On one level I could remain silent and would do so were it not for their complicity in what I consider a crime against others: living or dying; including themselves. In both cases I have found personal profit as a creative person; dying a small death to be reborn better than before the torture they inflicted upon my attention.

I know what the resurrection is about, but being a sophist for love, I learn more with each breathe. To follow God is to be prepared for change. Meaning to me: that were they to have died from my glance I would not cry anymore than when M dies; should she predecease me.

Life is difficult enough without the fear of dying. This I know from three years of volunteer service for The Mesilla Valley Hospice and from having lost, effectively all my personal furnishings and reference materials plus all creative works. Therefore disinterested in Mr. Crisp's reasoning for threatening me with eviction.

The kindness and compassion we give another is possibly the only occurrence in their lives. I do not solicit confessions, I am not ordained to do so, yet as a photojournalist I am familiar with many who think they are powerful and extraordinary and easily, now free of journalistic impartiality, say Romney/Ryan = Antichrist.

These are only words and cannot hurt those who do not respond. Yet, They like myself will stand before the Judge who like Solomon may say tear the baby apart. . . .who's a baby? . . . you're a baby . . . a child of God. All life is a product of love. Including this Planet called earth; which is in my new understanding Jerusalem belonging to all mankind.

"The secret of my success is that at an early age I discovered I was not God."--Oliver Wendell Holmes, Jr.

Those of us who kneel before our addictions to power and prestige are bound to suffocate by their ideals.
Worse.
Hell would be more like Woodstock than a very burning place: boring beyond belief. Too many "Senior Moments" LOL

121014 03:28 Revelation
©2012 by Jack Spratt - All Rights Reserved

being Loved

We poor tend to share everything freely versus the selfish rich. Our common bond is suffering and the desire to lighten the burden of a family member of any color, creed or gender. Thus the meek inherit this earth, in the beginning, middle and ending.

Revisiting/revising my suffering. Did it ever end? Perhaps it is now reconciled in old age when everything becomes simpler; the last things in life. Of that which I covet freedom fearing the loss is independence and one of the two sources of distress invaded my home today and I did not kill him. Instead I ignored his greeting, calling me Jack, after promising myself that I would in turn say; "To you that is too familiar from henceforth call me Mr. Spratt; or call me nothing but leave me in peace.

It would be, for me, admonishing a snake once bitten and dying. Of death, though I cannot remember the specifics, genders, creeds or proclivities; I retain a sense of empathy derived from experience. Each of us is on a journey, the path is not obvious unless you have settled on an addiction to money, sex, religion or some other excuse for arising the next dawn.

The man invaded my shelter, of course he presumes it is his to guard from my sloth, pests, pets, etc. He, like she who, brought me to the departure points from which I have learned to take better care of myself and environment--I've been praying for both of them--ending in what harm could I cause to someone so self-abusive? The profit to me is a better life because of them; more methodical and better organized/focused. It was well past time to move along. Possibly better,occurring now, I sense my mothers William Blake like and mystical reference to being no more significant than a grain of sand in the desert filled with those like me.

Humility begins with humiliation; I have an advanced degree. To the extent of becoming nothing and no one save for my love of all others whose lives and wounded hearts need healing. It is not I or anyone specific. I could, but refuse to, attribute my health and emotional sobriety to Jesus or God since to do so, in this culture, I would offend my friends of other definitions of God.

It is clever to say; "If life gives you lemons, make lemonade." Yet, sincerely, I had no Lemonade Stand nor glasses or cups or ice and no will to do so being nothing to myself.

Being Here Now was worth everything endured. All my prayers, longings, dreams and lack of weeping have become part of the solution. It seems to me now that all the "don't you want to "Be's" were delusions, worse, prisons and poisons implying suicide. Or at the very best; a greater suffering than the balm of applause, admiration or all the money in the universe could salve.

Once I would save that I was never "between a rock and a hard place." Then follow on with the thesis, in abstraction never fully understood, that all the wounds of my heart were meant to forge me into an instrument of peace; not vengeance. Never blame.

Yet the knowledge; the experience; in different ways and places; other people as artist making me this moment more willingly accepted or submitted to; is still surprising and without expectation willing to take more of such life is left for me for those of you who must heal yourselves. Anything less is dependence, avoidance, idolatry and cult. Rumi said it best and I'll close with his clue:

"Learn the alchemy that few human beings know, that when you accept what difficulties you have been given, a door opens."

"Your task is not to seek for love, but merely to seek and find all the barriers within yourself that you have built against it."

. . . remember please that what happened or will happen is nothing to you as your are having yourself self defined in death will be had in love by God.
Own yourself.

121012 21:25 Being Loved
©2012 by Jack Spratt - All Rights Reserved

God laughs & is a humorist

The last scenario before awakening was at a hospice where there was a new decorative wall upon which the patients and staff were to leave their signatures.

My question was should I sign the wall, and my unseen, unknowable and beloved friend said; "Sure, go ahead!"

"Were?"

"Anywhere you want."

"No. You first!"

Then appeared, instantly, a perfectly printed movie title; "Mr. Ed" as in The Talking Horse!

I awoke laughing. As I am, now, still laughing. If I accomplished nothing else in this life, longing for the next, and previous: I'd want you to remember nothing of me but sharing with you: God laughs!

"I've learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel." --Maya Angelou http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/I_Know_Why_the_Caged_Bird_Sings

We, unconsciously, are woven into the tapestry of our lives. My life, as metaphor, learned from listening to my maternal grandmother's Singer Sewing Machine before drifting into sleep and oblivion nightly when there in Ripley, Ohio. The place of my only peace ever known before this. The place where Liza and child crossed the ice floes to escape slavery.

Behind Mama Lu's home, not too distant, was a stairs ascending from the river to hill above the plain of Ohio and at times, whenever I was there, I'd climb those stairs with her. She was nineteen when giving birth to my mother. So very young, thirteen, when giving birth to my aunt Nina . . . ding, ding, ding, ding. . . .No wonder I think of them, all three when considering The Virgin Mother of God. . . .then myself the first male descending from a matriarchal line of woman and now advocate for their equality in all all things.

Does my mindfulness derive from them inseminated by my never known grandfather? For a lifetime, a wild child; who me a preacher's kid? Always fleeing from the now revealed truths that I breathe and live by expecting, in death, learn forever more?!

The voice of an author, read, has no face or gender. Just what needs saying; from their unknowable soul. The "why i write" is perfectly clear. I do so to make available to others, even if only one, myself, redemption and salvation.

I could, may and can analytically deconstruct all of my life and I have. Discovering in the process the greatest of everything but especially my joy in the act of writing . . . the characters mating one with another forming new life across the desert plain no longer crooked highway to all meaning and life.

At least for me it is.

Each day, including yesterdays patient waiting to be violated by the prison guard: Mr. Burt Crisp, Jr. who strode into my home oblivious that he had left the outer door open for Annie's potential escape and possible being road kill.

Have you heard from nearby the roar of a lion?

"close that door!"

You have no need to do as I have done but merely to celebrate the loves you have of spring or winter slush. All dancing life surrounding you through the seasons and reasons of life. Yet for those who daily think of death the only release from agony I write suggesting you listen to yourself. Sans judgment or blaming anyone or thing for your anxiety: twitching and writhing.

You have no need to be Muslim, Jew, Christian or Buddhist; maybe Janis? God is not specifically associated with any one religion or philosophy. If you feel fine embrace that but if you grieve or cry in the night then you might attend yourself exclusive of all others and their institutional alternatives. God changes no one. Instead merely makes the whole or Holy dedicated to their free will chosen identifications.

All institutions are imperfect, as I am, and will always remain. I care not what authority proclaims; since the only authority you need attend is within you.

Be well beloved of me.

121013 04:23 God laughs!!!!
©2012 by Jack Spratt - All Rights Reserved

The Great White Hope

I have no prejudice for, or against, people of color; or women in particular. Merely, and simply said, I have a hard-on for those of our family of humankind; the oppressed and/or otherwise enslaved.

If I use the word primitive regarding the conservancy of God's love for all humanity, but in this instance in America. I mean primal as in Keep It Simple Stupid the Quaker's appeal to me most of all because of their "Speak Truth to Power."

It follows that I have a unique knowing of Mormonism. Their history, practices and greed for preeminence secretly baptizing both the living and dead to expand their numbers.

I DO PROTEST!

It: Mormonism is a cult not a religion; therefore they should be taxed as a business incorporated or not. The men enslave women, no more or no less so, than al-Qaeda. Stopping just short of clitoridectomy but otherwise enslaving "their" women to servetude in all dimensions; especially sexual as breed stock chattel--again--to expand their numbers; brainwashed into systems of belief. A philosophy not a religious faith.

Doubting my use, and entitlement, of Mormons as cultist; I sought the Oxford Dictionary of English and The Sage's English Dictionary and Thesaurus discovering:

intimidation noun
1. The act of intimidating a weaker person to make them do something.
2. A communication that makes you afraid to try something.
3. The feeling of being intimidated; being made to feel afraid or timid.
4. The feeling of discouragement in the face of someone's superior fame, wealth, status, etc..
A. a relatively small group of people having religious beliefs or practices regarded by others as strange or as imposing excessive control over members: a network of Satan-worshipping cults.
B. a misplaced or excessive admiration for a particular thing: the cult of the pursuit of money as an end in itself.
C. A person or thing that is popular or fashionable among a particular group or section of society: the series has become a bit of a cult in the UK | [as modifier] a cult film.

{Format purposes: bullets and hyper links removed or altered}

My sense of racial prejudice in the world at large and (especially) in North America is it rampant. My intuition has been haunting me since the beginning of Mitt Romney's ascendancy and The Republican Nation Committee's reluctance submitting to his obvious saleability.

The Bobblehead, white flashing face, and lying through his flip-flop teeth. The son-of-a-bitch is kind to his own. And from what I've heard, a good 'minister' to those in need; only if one of "his" own flock. While the "heathen" are thrown to the wolves. Their employment indiscriminately and blithely aborted, unaccountably, like his past income tax returns, covert and hidden in offshore bank accounts.

Either the work man/woman is worthy of their hirer or not?!

Not he alone but all rich; how much is enough? The obvious, judging by Republicans et all is: MORE!

While the world goes hungry. Becoming more dependent on those who dangle the lure of a job? Forgive my conjecture, but, could we not "Nationalize" their wealth and thus feed those they made poor? Not merely tax; but confiscate from them what they have stolen from us?

Think quorum, or the minimum required to hold a worship service: celebration of thanksgiving for God's Providence freely given. Equally represented in tithing, or 10%, mandated for the poor of our family. Is there no justice? Anywhere? The pigs grow enormous eating our children's lives.

Add to which I've been more disturbed by "The Great White Hope." Both in the person of our current President and the fictional account of Jack Johnson's life. There is for me an oddly innocent association between the persecution of either or both: Mormons or Negroes.

Add. I attended an KKK rally, as a photojournalist--self-assigned--in Connecticut long ago. The resulting images are within the archives of The International Center of Photography's archives. As requested by Cornell Capa. Nothing is hidden from God, no act no gesture devoted or criminal. The Mormons practice in secrecy rituals of intimidation hidden behind costumes similar to those worn by the KKK historically.

If I laugh at my death, it is by choice, no longer afraid of anything including my lunatic assassination by either Pro Life or Mormons dressed as savages or any and all advocates, face-to-face or by sniper rifle. My soul is apprehended and embraced by God . . . and today is a good day to die; even now; this moment. Or do I tempt some savage shit-for-brains driving a Cadillac Escalade to mutilate me into helplessness? Of course I do. Save in this; that those who kill or maim do so to their peril.

i am but a voice calling in the desert; during this time of chaos; a tsunami of "information;" willing to pronounce what I see. Representative of anyone other than myself. Willing to gladly bear the consequences of my truth as Jesus did on the cross; or the court of public opinion.

Can Mr. Bait and Switch: Governor Mitt Romney and House Budget Committee Chair Paul Ryan (R-WI), the same combo, as like Bush/Cheney, sincerely believe The American People will, once again fall victim to the same tactics?

Regardless of all my rage against Bush/Cheney as like "Howdy Doody and Uncle Bob;" I am now calm and calculating. Inspired to publish without regard of any peril for my personal truth--meaning merely what I am willing to live and die for. And for those who finance and thus prostitute the minds and souls of all who purport to rule/publicly serve/govern/pontificate there is no place in life or death; heaven or hell, that I will not pursue you to your anguish for ever having been born.

My death is inconsequential to me.
Yet the enslavement, is, of all women and children to your agenda, you know who you are. As yet anonymous and hidden; will wish that hell was a gated community for your pleasure. These are not my children but God's . . . as you are; should only you stop and listen to your heart smelling the roses instead of destroying them.

VOTE!

121013 06:31 The Great White Hope
©2012 by Jack Spratt - All Rights Reserved

Saint Who? You a saint i’s a saint all us saints and devils together form the Communion of Saints.

. . . for the commonweal of all life!

Can't say her name, because of HIPPA and Medicare; besides Mesilla Valley Hospice and minions will have another rhinoceros. . . . But she passed away the day I decided to leave Hospice.

Where the few who cared to know me . . . maybe love me just a little bit . . . knew me a writer using the forum of Journal Keeping as a matrix to publish with.

Otherwise I simply kept mum about it. Wisely as it now seems. Yet even those curious enough to ask what I did for my spare time or Second Job; I'd say; "I write."
"What do you write about?"
"God" walking away attending to another request for whatever.

Could be; maybe not. Perhaps her last whispered words, those mouthed but never heard. See, it takes a very long time for some of us to die. And come to think about it; Jesus had it real good. Dying in what? Three days? Not sure. But you should know that there are lots of things worse than death. Parkinson's disease being but one of them. Long time, taking maybe a decade to do the deed.

She was there my first day on-the-job-training. Not theory but reality. At that, maybe, not sure, but she'd been there two years before; on her back waiting; refusing to die. I came to love her in my way feeding her early before my shift began. Two days a week, four hours each. If things were slow, the population low, I’d take off after four hours. Otherwise I would stay until it calmed down again

Never thought of it before writing the last sentence. All my working life was parachuting in, hitting the ground running forward towards trouble. Not knowing what to expect: adapt, improvise, prevail. Maybe that's why I laugh at my own death? A little bit like my first child; Randy. Celebrate beginnings and endings. What really matters is the middle part: Life. Either of quiet desperation or OFU sometimes, at other's, just smile and get on with it.

Her birthday is Valentines Day. I won't bore you with my associations; after all this is not fiction or something to amuse you. It is my truth . . . the experience of discovering God is as really REAL! This is about you, not me or God. Dare I say? We're here for you!

Not extensive, but curious, I did look up Saint Valentine thinking he must be something special. Discovered there were four of them! Which one did my distant 'relative' a Catholic Priest in Dublin. Petitioned the Pope for a Holy Day? “Holiday?” Oh well. The parasite merchants. Those who's sole purpose, or so it would seem after listening to the Vice-Presidential Debates. Is to live off the sweat of other people’s toil and work. That is the essential nature of usury: Criminal. They create nothing but personal wealth and then pervert the laws of our nation to validate SELFISHNESS!

Nothing is hidden from God. Get over attempting to hide jerking off, occasionally wearing mommies panties over your head. God, is, in fact far more forgiving that you or I would imagine. Little boy and girl saints love one another BUT don't fool around sexually; just like Angels.

Arnold Schwarzenegger is a wonderful example of a Nazi Musselman. Or just another example of a spoiled child attempting to be better than his dad.

" I teach you beyond Man (superman). Man is something that shall be surpassed. What have you done to surpass him? " -Nietzsche

My question, based upon personal experience and lengthy inquisition of my father is: why do we attempt to emulate and/or surpass our parents? Try as hard as I will, or might, God is insuperable. In a sense, Jesus having died to prove His point. What can I do or say to top that?

After the thousands of pages written, most destroyed or abandoned, I have begun to see an emergent pattern. A covert direction for my Self/Soul.

Inactive, indecisive, previously, or mostly all of my life. I've changed. Could it be that the balance between work and faith is an example of the same issue expressed as being, in Arnold's case, 49% female and 51% male.

Maybe those who witnessed Jesus naked discovered He was a hermaphrodite? Unwilling to acknowledge his torture the Popes screwed the pooch by having him in diapers; nice and clean no shit, no piss. Atypical of a capital punishment designed to destroy the illusion of being: The King of The Jews. Assassination or sanctioned murder by both the Hebrews and Rome? Talk about free market socialism! Or possibly George Orwell's Animal Farm wherein the PIGS are more equal than the rest of us mere farm animals.

I love playing with these questions. Theology  bores me to tears. But I love eating politicians for lunch and stock brokers, bankers, commodities speculators, ticket scalpers, and Pay Day Loan Business any time for a snack. I used to think I had to be an artist ethereal or cutting off my ear. For me it was an either/or question. Through writing a journal I came to listen to the other more analytical sophist part. So I am astonished to recognize being both methodical and ecstatic. All my problems solved, not exclusively by my perception or judgement, but by balancing, reasonably all the component parts equally = and/both. I am a soul redeemed both by choice and by God.

Free Will meet the Judge!

These are just words. Take them as you may--or can--or don't read me at all. I care more for you than I care if you read me. So go read yourself.

I know God sends a few of us along every once in awhile just to season the stew. Or heady brew of cupidity and dictators who want women exclusively as breeding stock so they can overpopulate the world with more Mormons or Catholics?

What do you think?

I remain essentially a universal Protestant. All women should be taught to think for themselves exclusive of the urge to merge and make life for children who will never have a future in this world. Not a prophet I am convicted that we must presume the current course of action and options terminal. When requested I say grace “remaining ever mindful of the needs of others (especially the widows, divorced mothers, their children, the AIDS babies all over the world but predominantly in Africa where politicians emulate American Leaders as dictators.

I'm not perfect, you're not perfect, They are not perfect (Democrats or Republicans) and that's okay by me and by God. But there is consequence to everything. Nothing is for naught or nothing is for nothing. There are no accidents. Saying I’m sorry won’t cut it.

God being perfect informs me that it is our choice formed by informed consent; not the current circumstance. Thanks in large measure to Republican shenanigans. Use your consciousness and add those who lie about and to you.

My secret is that I know Hell. After all I live there and have been living here for seventy-two years. Add to which: God willing and the creek don't rise. Mr. Bert Crisp, Jr. will be here lording  over me his divinely given landlords privilege of throwing my skinny, wrinkled posterior out into the rush hour traffic . . . add to which I have a very strong instinct and intuition that J. L. Gray is not only cooking the books, like the Federal Government, but equally running a crooked set bilking the Human Urban Development folks out of tax payer's money. Facts can and do lie. Or like logic become the wanton whore for the use of any man capable of paying the price.

Are we For Sale?

My prayer for you for me for us is that we find good trust and truth individually. Then wherever two or more are gathered together there will be authority of, We The People! not just one more spoiled brat Republican, the Koch Brothers, Inc. & their expenditures to throw the will of us under a passing municipal bus. I am conservative of ancient truths self evident.

121012 01:11 Saint Who?
©2012 by Jack Spratt - All Rights Reserved