a fraud & hypocrite am I

Miles to travel by light years and in death more light years upon light years infinite. Curious about everything; the origin and meanings of love & life; all things inclusive; not just exclusive to God. 

I've spent so much time in transit: cars, walking, flying, boats/ships/yachts/dinghies; that I have come to sense myself in conveyance, when I fly commercially, on my way to Auschwitz. Add to which the Storm Troupers are now patrolling the isles. Regardless of style or class it's all to the Gates of Hell i went and now go. Back and forth since infancy wiping away any sense of home across America; a windshield wiper in a hurricane I passed.  

A fraud & hypocrite I became in early youth pretending to be okay just to survive. It took decades and enormous effort to now be less a chameleon than I was the day before. By needs the Gates of Heaven are where we finally lose our ego and gender identifications. Like those days of yore; personal valuables piled before the showers gaseous discharge or the bodies starved and worked to death piled as cord word awaiting the crematoria. 

Crimes by my parents against me forgiven but never forgotten since to forget is not to see the rape of America. I have lists of those who stole my mother & grandmother's work for pennies per button or stitch. Plus my father's estate stolen or gift to my ass hole half brother. 

Like them Bankers are the bane of all recorded cupidity. Please, if curious look up: avarice, profit & loss, electronic elections; greed. My shit list of assholes grows daily and exponentially; inclusive of the usual suspects Stock Brokers/Speculators Politicians regardless of rank from the top down, either party . . . by any basis of comparison my hypocrisy and fraud are inconsequential.

My point is that the word ass hole can be spelled asshole meaning scatocephalic or asshat the current and future posture of the congress of baboons. Please include the Judiciary in the mix since The Great Black Stain and War Criminals Clinton and Bush now Obama have driven us suicidally more so into the arms of the collectivized and institutionalized thieves Incorporated the Banks Of America. 

Could it be that the Sanhedrin had no bitch about Jesus as/being related to God but balked at his crimping their Temple profits selling sacrifices and needed a really Big One for THE BIG SHOW?

Today I was informed by my doctor's office that they had prescriptions for me to pickup? It seems the shitwits in Santa Fa (The Medical Board) decided that it would be better for me to go there than use a telephone or fax machine; to drag my weary, broke, flabby ass to the doctor's office ignoring the possibility that I might have enormous difficulty economically (no car, bus to far to walk in this current heat, unable to hire a cab and so on and on and on). Oxymoronic isn't it (shit + wit) what wit? The should all die of AIDS slowly in agony crawling to the pharmacy please; a little justice here!?

See them smiling indifferent all dressed up awaiting the shower/oven combo too. 

Do you now understand a bit better why people go postal, berserk, running amok in theaters showing movies dedicated to empower/entertain the helpless & hopeless? Essentially people with no future regardless of political lies. This is a depression; depressing isn't it.

120829 19:29 fraud & hypocrite
© 2012 by Jack Spratt All Rights Reserved

confessions of a father

Like all men common by appearance he was complex without knowing his depths. Yet to me, his first son, was oddly confident of things more personal than, in retrospect, I'd wanted to know -- yet knowing is my nature: His ideation of suicide, at or near the time of my birth -- slightly before or afterwards. The illicit abortion of my sibling; gender unknown, who haunts my life in ways unknowable; plagued. The wife and mother of me who nearly bled to death, resulting the dismissal of an unwanted child; as I was soon too soon after birth to become aware myself; unwanted.

Understand me well, there are deaths by many measures, means and kinds, the unkindness of an abandoning indifferent parent is among the worst. 

This I know by confessions and conversations of others who intimately trusted me as their friend; their confidence sacred to me. By which I came to know myself curiously blest in ways previously oblivious; like for kind. To a child, though, then unknowing, presuming myself worthy of all slander, punishment, abandoning and worse: no right to be or live at all. Merely indulged; the antics of a stray pet given temporary shelter, a foster being unaccountable attribution to the keeper.

Indifferent he witnessed savage behavior and of those he did not see remained incredulous. As well mother would ask occasionally, why this, what was that about? Mute in reply, since it was my only defense to watch her closely, the turning from mere beating to murder . . 
. . . at times holding the glowing coals by hand for too long needs a block of ice to repair, remember those? Ice Boxes? . . . 

How old I've become expecting death at any and all turnings of time or events fatal implicit/explicit between mother and myself. And why? Oh Dear God! Do I persist in rowing the ice pick in my heart, mind and soul? My eyes memory bleeding instead of weeping.

For we the broken: PTSD & Co-Dependent legions of us crippled emotionally intoxicated with greed to be known and loved accepted as we are; the hidden self grown to maturity despised, if not beaten to death; merely road kill. . . .Cut apart buried with lime, in the cesspools of time; no monument required. More or better yet to be enslaved to a would-be god-like 'parent'/pimp who sadistically cuts, kicks, abuses and rents our bodies out for the use of others; perpetually scalded in hell forever longing to die. 

Sanguine knowing myself sanguinary: slaughterous of a murderous nature or in a murderous state of mind; bloodthirsty rage against injustice of any kind; especially against children already born. All children are of God; all definitions and at any age. 

A father bereft of children now I adopt all life as my family as does God . . . i have faith so for such, i'd be willing to live or die for . . . my dragon of rage, belching and farting fire is so difficult to restrain yet so tightly saddled and bridled . . . it is best that i simply walk away and leave my irritants whole; unconsumed & unscathed.

Be well; let it be in your life, to be so beloved of God and healed

Afterword 120829 15:33 beset with slow downs, no malfunctions found yet, on my alternative desktop, I've been researching 'sanguinary' to affirm my identification with being co-dependent for years now healed & a conviction that PTSD people are similar in origin; if not in whole -- at least partially. And could, in part, explain the behavior of those who 'choose' to slay, injure or maim others acting out in public what they could not elsewhere. Seeking attention to their needs?

120829  11:15 confessions of a father
© 2012 by Jack Spratt All Rights Reserved

all my days i've searched for love

who am I to descry yesterdays or tomorrows when our today is so filled with glory exceptional oh Lord forgive my wavering the expectations against tomorrow's needs when all my days have been so blest as this day your presence all the peace i know now and forever i love You so and rest for eternity all the days of infinity. Amen . . . a prayer for M all my days rejoice again i say rejoice

surely i did not write this but awoke it written on my heart all along all my days forever so blest again I say rejoice this near moon become my sun all the light all i'll need forever blest these days and nights and morrows What a day it was yesterday and now knowing love sincere actually everything else aside all my yesterdays have become my tomorrows rejoicing

i strolled outside the moon & stars greeted me and then I knew entitled 'all my days i've searched for love' & find meaning of 'third person omniscient' note: to myself this time again remember

then

"Everything in life that we really accept undergoes a change. So suffering must become Love. That is the mystery." --Katherine Mansfield

"Human intellect is incurably abstract." --C. S. Lewis

"This sex thing. We never used to be hung up like this. Nature doesn't give little kids problems except when there's some king of an accident--like that eight-year-old South American girl that had a baby. 
But that's practically a mutation right? --Paul Zindel (Author born May 15th)

this day date time my iGoogle page on Chrome

120809 03:21 who am i
© 2012 by Jack Spratt All Rights Reserved

a few poems?

a few poems?

she elicits from me galaxies unimaginably huge playing my heart not Aeolian but a Stradivarius  my fret less fingerboard pressed in harmonies fugues savage ballads of passion self  immolating incandescent burning thru bedrock a hole in eternity Splat the infant road kill left in  a paper sack on a back country road out in the sticks run over by a car load of teenagers  tossing beer bottles out windows wake streaming in the cool spring nights Senior Prom  screaming in laughter's oblivion the child a greasy smear A giantess Empress meteors silently  crashing into an through resurrecting the child that was Surely god must like Jesus be  perfectly balance between genders for She looking like all women is to me more divine in  origin than I can speak of in meek words but speak the words nonetheless unspeakable love  nonesuch my mouth sibilant weeping eyes burning coals God can be found anywhere within  without in any form love wants the unwanted child speaks

120827 21:18 she elicits

Passing dayflies single night upon a sea passing too close the glow our life illumed each other  in fright then gone forever destinations unknowable looming on the cusp of the seas crust  tuning round this world are many others faintly glowing with life too short too distant to hail  farewell or safe home being well

120828 04:20 ships of state

burnt to a cinder unknowing in adoration prayer those answering the call "who can I send?"  with 'send me' now discover the witness is sent sans robes of authority to subvert empires  into humility and service to need not greed tunneling 

120828 04:37 kirk

within there is a garden of stones some small a few large upon which i gaze unconscious of  time their estate meditated upon those who past leaving glorious words and wonder their  behavior the only measure of glory in time a soul bled out for others or hoarded the bodies of  others

120828 04:44 truth

cloaked in ermine and purple figures of known wisdom said, "God only helps those who help  themselves" yet i shrouded in ash and rags rage and suicide find myself helpless no more  crowned content

120828 05:00 helpless

when in doubt whether to take another breathe allowing my heart to stop finally succumb to  the dumb I seek not exclusively those who purport to follow Jesus but betimes a good atheist  or jolly agnostic as well for all the facets of God's wisdom reside in far flung and astonishing  places e.g. “I have noticed even people who claim everything is predestined, and that we can  do nothing to change it, look before they cross the road." --Stephen Hawking 
& by this learn that those who purport to listen or be by God blessed are too often not.

120828 05:11 doubt

THOSE OF OTHERS

--Paul Dickson
"Rowe's Rule: the odds are five to six that the light at the end of the tunnel is the headlight of  an oncoming train."

--P. Hill
“Knowledge is Freedom: hide it, and it withers; share it, and it blooms”

--Stephen Jay Gould 
"Facts do not 'speak for themselves', they are read in the light of theory"

--Stephen Leacock 
"Advertising: the science of arresting the human intelligence long enough to get money from  it."

a triptych 27 August 2012

She's a woman of certain age with panache walking her dog daily Sometimes near sometimes Far who I've come to know from random encounters here were we live for now this Geriatric Ghetto alone save for pets in our own cribs slowly by life abandoning us alone again at last finally blest by solitude

She's leaving can't stand the oven heat of late June through July heading for the mountains nearby but too far for easy converse and I'll miss terribly her outrageous hats and humor so raucous as mine

I told her I'd follow just to prove what the bored gossip about we She laughed and said i've had enough of men and then we agreed that marriage is for kids who know nothing the glory of living alone

We're Gringos of rich background now paupers rendered so by the rulers of us yet of the manor/manners born obvious to us we who know not golden spoons but earned credibility in the finishing school of hard times then fine unalloyed value extruded

120827 08:47 celibacy

after an oddly great number and long history of sanguine cars he knew nothing of the word until a nurse called him such as Sanguine [adjective] cheerfully optimistic and at time Sanguinity [noun] bloodthirsty thus explaining from a sidereal out of left field hitting him in the head a line drive explaining much of his confusion between mercy and rendering terror Until then he just though he loved bishops red shoes and socks Ferraris Italian National Racing Red colors denoting the unique screaming v16 double overhead cam at their highest revs through curves up hills down dales flashing across straight always exhaust glowing like the gates of Hell yawning expectantly The nurse then went farther saying; "You know you put it out and take it back in?!" Until that moment he'd though himself merely a hypocrite

1208271510 sanguine

From now looking back peering forward feculent meaning aggregate lending richness to what once was imagined/intuition rehearsed/reprised the nightmare of a fifty eight hour birth for me for her and then the hell was real unbearable but survived Now seen differently and prized

120824 1629 looking back
© 2012 by Jack Spratt All Rights Reserved

sanguine adj / sanguinity n
Word History: The similarity in form between sanguine, "cheerfully optimistic," and sanguinary, "bloodthirsty," may prompt one to wonder how they have come to have such different meanings. The explanation lies in medieval physiology with its notion of the four humors or bodily fluids (blood, bile, phlegm, and black bile). The relative proportions of these fluids was thought to determine a person's temperament. If blood was the predominant humor, one had a ruddy face and a disposition marked by courage, hope, and a readiness to fall in love. Such a temperament was called sanguine, the Middle English ancestor of our word sanguine. The source of the Middle English word was Old French sanguin, itself from Latin sanguineus. Both the Old French and Latin words meant "bloody," "blood-colored," Old French sanguin having the sense "sanguine in temperament" as well. Latin sanguineus was in turn derived from sanguis, "blood," just as English sanguinary is. The English adjective sanguine, first recorded in Middle English before 1350, continues to refer to the cheerfulness and optimism that accompanied a sanguine temperament but no longer has any direct reference to medieval physiology.

In the temple sanctuary of your heart 
where your soul resides it is easy to know 
Jesus asleep or awake for he is affable
familiar a brother a friend a confidant 
and like God also there the once-upon-trinity
as we'd say in Chicago da BOMB! NO the now 
quaternity for Mary's there too virgins ALL
awake in souls celebrations dancing bliss in
4/4 time

It's only a dream boys and girls right here in River City. But being an entertainer just like Him; I'm an equal opportunity host. 

Bring up the chorus swelling in the background silence. 
Stage lights from dim to high and see all of us those who adore you as you are.

We who you call saints or prophets of any and all names speaking many voices and languages one song a hymn of thanksgiving for you just as you are. 

I remember barracks at night the voices of intimacy unknown of men speaking in their sleep a random word here then there mom, mother, grandmother a dad here then their names of women spoken of or about stated randomly across the sea of sleeping men brothers to one another a different type of lovers

Honey i'd do anything to make you laugh Twirl gently before your eyes This way and that Zooming to the rafters for a smile or smirk Instead she' watch dad & me becoming frantic over the volley of antics enacted Then at other times one word curses 'whorehouse' 'thief' and some special ones for the Undertaker who rifled Walter Irvin's private room in our home looking for money to pay for his funeral unwelcomed a pick pocket in disguise The word disremembered preceded hissing sibilant then the invisible strike him immobilized 

Where's the Holy Spirit well you might ask For The Holy Spirit is all of it; the ground, air, sea, stars crown invisible everywhere the OM of god.

no fear don't shout just speak softy the wounds of your heart
we'll hear . . . you do know maidenheads grow back?

i'm no poet but it's all i got to see the glory you've got to see it yourself

120827 0743 easy quaternity 4M
© 2012 by Jack Spratt All Rights Reserved

Coincident with cellular telephones, capable of still and motion capture, are more public eruptions of violence by ordinary civilians and security forces. My political views are impractical and slowly receding into polite conversation. As in: do not ever discuss: politics, sex, religion or civility; seriously.

That applied, generally, to cocktails and dinner but now applies across the board thanks to G. W. Bush & Osama bin Laden in their contest of wills.

Now we have slavery to any person purporting to "Save & Protect."   Giving summery execution to our freedom to record anything; much less their use of unreasonable force against anyone or anything. We now live in a Police State dictated by tyranny. Between the rich who effectively defined their ideas of what we had become until the black stain of the individuals named above. They in my estimate were and will historically remain synonymous -- call & response.

I have a particular or peculiar awareness of  Bush et al aborting the monopoly laws regarding the hoarding of information. Thus enabling the loud and extremely vocal propaganda arm of the Republican agenda. Or merely their ideal that Greed is Good and selfishness best . . . well . . . maybe blest?

Amongst a few friends it is remarked that the current GOP ticket, if elected, will set back women's rights by one-hundred to one-hundred and fifty years. But then there hasn't been a clean election in one-hundred years, if not longer.

True of me, true of them, or they who are addicted to any agenda unreasonably zealous/fanatic; merely intolerant and exclusive to their definition and control. Expect to be crucified as either constituent or photographer of either gender or gender persuasions.

A free press thus a potentially fully informed electorate is dead and so is America.

Game, set, point and match to the duo above named coupled with Rupert Murdoch as: got you by your balls boy. . . .otherwise by your short and curlies.

I had at one time a Secret Service Pass to the White House. Didn't do me a bit of good while photographing the last Republican lunatic. Once discerned I put it and my 'professional' equipment aside; returning with an 'amateur' camera sans press credentials. Getting closer to Reagan than the insider Oval Office crew. While I watched them steam I acquired what was necessary and in turning away saw a white boy with his suit jacket spread to reveal two crossed Colt revolvers; a belt buckle. Presidents don't impress me, real people do.

Don't ever tell me who you think you are, show me. Power makes everyone crazy, me too. The difference is between giving harm or giving forgiveness unto those who harm

120826 0333 wild wild west out there
© 2012 by Jack Spratt All Rights Reserved