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

Women and Men -- Playboy models Rock!

121011 11:51 re: aged playboy models @ women illustration folder

“Our own life is the instrument with which we experiment with the truth.”  -Thich Nhat Hanh

Once-long-ago, distant-in-miles and time; I was a useful citizen in the editorial illustration business for 45 years. Now in the community I live in.

Remembering not that I am a victim of time, and abused viciously by petty scatocephalic: bankers, stock brokers, commodities speculators, politicians and various sundry administrators of HUD properties; but merely being a photo whore for Star Magazine who requested that I photograph several similar women albeit in a different context environmentally.

Oddly, then and now, I sensed I was photographing people; who like me had dignity and honor regardless of tits and ass. I being a male, had stolen my first copy of Playboy, I was less than legal of age to purchase it. Were it in my possession today I might recoup some small particle of the $1.25 million dollars stolen from me. I well remembering now my participation in the formation of that small fortune.

I liked my version better than this; but as I wend my way to ash, dust, dumpster or desert here in Las Cruces, New Mexico, the now World Capital of ELDER ABUSE and the depredations our All American Culture; well; what can I say? I celebrate the efforts of any photographer, journalist or not, who shines a bright light on the cockroaches who savage me wherever I turn. Now looking forward to death, my eternal rest or Hell as they will soon find their destination.

Kudos to all involved as I sit here prisoner of my concentration/death camp of monthly inspections.

121008 04:20 word randomly regarded + POSTSCRIPT

Honor amongst the innocents was important in prehistory and now; in summary I find it important to me. I was insanely angry with God and All Creation for the deaths of my children. By varying degrees and ways I have been furious with the secular world as well. Finding now the seat of my anger and its root I better know myself and what I am about with deadly intent.

http://biblez.com/search.php?q=little+children

I am deeply obligated to The Holy Roman Catholic Church teaching me to be myself; in peace and joy -- instead of insane with rage. By training Jesuit -- by experience a Franciscan. In the moment, to summarize my spiritual life, I discover myself balanced equally between the two disciplines and rules, such as I understand them, and by them be willing to live or die.

That was my background prior to arriving in New Mexico, my final home and resting place.

In summary as a freelance photographer for The Catholic Press. It was Bob Baldwin a fellow journalist met at the Providence Journal who sought me out while working six years as a carpenter and recruited me. He had been a Quaker converted to Catholicism like as by choice was Fritz Eichenberg who to the best of my knowledge--I had asked of neither why but accepted/submitted to their obvious devotion . . . I can be devilish in my ways of discerning, absent wishful thinking and finding the manifold ways God has lead me to this moment in time: a phosphorus match struck and flicked arching into a midnight sea to be subsumed there hissing in protest

POSTSCRIPT

Deeply aggrieved for a very long time, specifically the past thirty-five-years, after the death of my son Randy at home in my presence. I discover myself once more in grief for the abuses of J. L. Gray, Inc. who manage the property where my apartment is located. Despite my consultations with friends better advised than the Burt Crisp who gave me a pre-eviction notice, now absent and presumed stolen via illegal entry into my apartment during my absence. In for a penny in for a dollar or the rest of my life here in Las Cruces, New Mexico, The United States of America. At issue: to whom or how do I protest this obscene perpetual monthly inspection experienced as an invasion of my privacy?

I write this protest against the advise of those who know: "The System of Elder Care, J. L Gray, Housing and Urban Development (a USA Federal Agency)" first hand and all too well. They informed me that I would not be able to live with sixty miles of Las Cruces due to retaliation by any or all of the above named.

I could, with accuracy, make the same claim against The Mesilla Valley Hospice where I volunteered for three years. Both issues are interlocking yet, to go further would be a waste of my, oddly now, given my age of seventy-two-years, extremely precious to me time. Day-by-day becoming more so.

What set me off is that Mr. Burt Crisp will in all probability inspect my apartment tomorrow. I will be forced, to witness, thus abandon my planed day, his invasion yet again, in anticipation of another attempt to evict me. Based upon the evidence, now missing, his previous standards sexual, person and having virtually nothing to do with his responsibility monitoring this property.

It is not just Mr. Burt Crisp but J. L. Gray and Mac Management who employ people capable of evicting me for "cause" cleanliness or inability to responsibly inhabit shelter without assistance. The idea of which renders me suicidal having been around the world five times as journalist I have witnessed the living conditions of those so incarcerated. With complete candor I would rather die at my own hand then be so condemned.

There have been times, subject to the savage sadistic behavior of property manages, when I had come to hold a claw hammer behind my back ready to tear them apart with. This document is my only alternative to being naked in the street with all my professional, personal furnishing plus companion cat.

In summary: Abused from infancy onward I protest for all we who are merely litter to The Authority of any one or agency who abuse us mercilessly without accountability. At the moment I do not feel free to empty my trash in the dumpster. Mr. Crisp is present.

Thus what should be my and or our "Golden Years" are bereft of our savings, our retirement accounts, dignity or honor in The Land of the Brave? Whose motto is; "In God we Trust?"

Should God, or Mr. Burt Crisp allow, I will persist writing about self healing for those of us who otherwise would go berserk running amok killing indiscriminately. In these savagely depressing times. I ask for nothing but prayers that I be allowed to continue my mission.

©2012 by Jack Spratt - All Rights Reserved

dialog with God

I write for the creation of it. Meaning: in creating anything we join THE CREATION -- THE BIG BANG creating us. I am reluctant, or at least have been, to share the signs, omens, portents hurtling through my mindfulness. Daily growing more ominous or ubiquitous these thoughts zing and singing from whence? Rather than detail, I will only share, that my love and prayer is that; this happen for and within you. I know you can do it too it two!

No tutu required.

Sleep as you may, can, or must; but for me sleep is death from which I betimes wish i would never arise since infancy. Yet even that, even now, is answered prayer. I did awaken at the magical hour 03:33 with a message from -- guess who! God of course. Who in her/his inimitable way said, simply; "I am the last and least servant of all creation." . . . well . . . i lie: having added on the "servant of all creation."

I am not exactly proud; nor do I ever celebrate my suffering, pain, or the deaths of my children and the long grief endured. I do not envy anyone or anything of material worth. There is a difference between cost and value, knowing all too well the wealth of my poverty.

And here I would point your attention to the most recent several Republican Presidential pretenders. They, it would seem, desire to be worshiped and idolized as THE GOLDEN BULL inseminating all the fecund, nubile, virgins with Saviors yet to propagate the world with greed, avarice, cupidity, usury as in MIGHT IS RIGHT! No matter how many of color are sacrificed to their; THE GOLDEN BULL SHITTER'S GLORY!

Feces has value yet, to me, forever remains the fully digested bodies, hopes, ambitions of the innocent slain and martyred for the vanity of Vanities now in control of The Republican Party in These United States of America . . . did not shithead George W. Bush remark that he trusted Putin? Looking into Putin's eyes with starry eyed adoration the mirror of his own vacuous, pretentiousness? There is no honor amongst thieves just celebration of crime. The spore of these two is littered with the waste of all mankind, no threat or promise, but accomplished fact.

I like this quote. It is unto me like Turkish Taffy indigestible clinging to my mouth, tongue and mind like super glue:

"The next Buddha will not take the form of an individual. The next Buddha will take the form of a community; a community practicing understanding and loving kindness, a community practicing mindful living. This may be the most important thing we can do for the survival of the Earth." –Thich Nhat Hanh

. . . it is valuable to mention that the Buddha is as Jesus Christ and his mother The Virgin Mary (she in particular having been 'raised' to the Godhead 3+1 = 4) All one God various incarnations and prophets of which I profoundly believe Muhammad amongst them . . .

--Book of Common Prayer " . . an outward and visible sign of an inward and spiritual grace."

"Casting all your care upon Him, for He careth for you."

. . . it is my spiritual dyslexia to think-feel-sense-intuit, written between the lines of the Judeo-Christian Bibles combined: that we are the temple/church/Holy See of God not those piles of stones or false idols, idolatry or ideological issues for which so many through history and prehistory have been martyred. Governments and Religions being the source of enmity and war between all the peoples of the world. Therefore responsible for more early deaths than any disease, abortion, or death by natural cause.

I suggest that you follow your own dedication to truth transparently. In that single act you will be fulfilled. As for myself, once a lover of all sensuality seeking fulfillment in the life and body of a woman find now that I am celibate by choice. The friend and lover of truth and reality serving me better than all others ideals.

I am infused with thanksgiving for the manifold gifts given by others who in times past I would attempt to capture as mementos of grace given, anticipated and expected. Then when refused would flee never having the courage to fight for my needs being met.

That which we desire, or hate, holds us captive and victims of humiliating greed. At least it did for all of my former life; filled with fear and anxiety.

Perceptually and experientially I victimized myself. Those tragedies, children lost or abandoning me, those who gave their all; was never enough. Again and again I fled seeking what found me this morning.

What need have I of another friend or lover . . . do we not drown one another in love!

In closing, a few ending or beginning thoughts: My cup runs over. Surely this cannot be insanity for there is no repetition but; an ever renewed challenge. Not merely daily; but moment to second . . . lest I do the thinking etc. you must do to be whole:

http://www.phrases.org.uk/meanings/a-bird-in-the-hand.html

121011 05:59 up since when -- Psalm 81
©2012 by Jack Spratt - All Rights Reserved