RAVEN MACK is a mystic poet-philosopher-artist of the Greater Appalachian unorthodox tradition who publishes zines & physical books & electronic books & music & photography & digital art & just generally whatever feels necessary to survive this deluded earth thru Rojonekku Word Fighting Arts survival systems (Version 69, establish 14 Feb 1973). Comments encouraged.

Friday, November 17


haunted by that "merrily,
merrily, merrily" song,
"life is but a dream" refrain

Jesse James Krupert November 2017 number four "blue ridge mountains"

[actually been bumpin the Sunshine Sessions more stripped down demo version of this song but the internet failed in having youtube copy of that, so in its guise is the studio version, more engineered to feel less authentic]

I come from the foothills
not the mountains themselves
(at least not this lifetime)
(but multiple generations back up the line got mountain goat tendencies)
(multiple continents)

the foothills are perfect launching pad
bc we know how to disappear into the mountains
like mystic guerrillas (I Self Lord And Master)
but also got knowledge of oceanic (re)baptism
(re)charging those depleted metaphysical ions

last summer we was at the ocean
& I sandbarred my ass out
& all these herons started swooping all around me
& ppl on shore were looking & pointing
but I was ducking down to allow herons to swoop in close
energy was crazy (ocean+large bird knowledge+primordial connections)
but then a jetski-bro mechanically progressed into the scene
& caused nature to flee from man's idiocy as much as possible

when I got back on shore
fam asked "did you see the dolphins?"
& I hadn't (no glasses makes aging dirtgod a more-blind seer)
but there was dolphins all up behind my ducked down ass
staring at the herons

my dead father used to say
piedmont Va (southside VA) was the best
bc you wasn't far from the ocean
wasn't far from the mountains
blue waters to nature-baptize ya self
blue ridge to camouflage away from man's idiocy as much as possible

PL34S3 M0R3 C0NT3MP0R4RY...

please, more contemporary
native art in museums,
plus less ill-got artifacts

Thursday, November 16

Jahida Jihadah Krupert November 2017 number three "saqi sharab de de"

[Munni Begum is famous sanger of ghazals,
so I writ a ghazal fa y'all]

sitting inside these boxes, slowly losing my mind
soaking up nutritionless information, self-abusing my mind
memes trigger lols (but not IRL), amusing my mind
manufacturing more "social" data, further binding my heart
so that disconnected connections begin confusing my mind

furies and broken psychologies, blinding my heart
worries and anxieties, grinding my heart
disappearing into the woods, finding my heart
neighborhoods of civilized living disgusting my gut
focused on surviving, minding my heart

glyphosate mind-state, rusting my gut
refined sugar plantation dose rate busting my gut
fermenting resistance, re-adjusting my gut
intestinal congresses refusing my mind
forgetting what I know, trusting my gut

TH3 B3ST 4DV1C3 D3V1L 0N...

the best advice devil on
shoulder ever gave me is
still "burn all bridges you can"

Wednesday, November 15


ATM withdrawal for
four-day disappearance to
recharge depleted heartfire

Jebediah Jenkins Krupert November 2017 number two "piece of wood and steel"

building art from the constant detritus that is life
nothing is stable, all is built upon faultlines we don't see
human existence is a wreck (waiting to happen)
we plow ahead, secure in our entered state, oblivious to the wreckage which always lurks
lost in thought lost in sought lost in ought to bought (lost in naught?)
and then in one loose second we lose our imagined control

[insert personal visual of scattered debris, including piece of wood and steel at this part, to tie triggering song to rambling prose]

and after the shock
after making sure still alive
we gather up what is still usable
make art from the more beautiful scraps
and leave the rest of the rubble and wreckage behind

to exist is to survive
to continue to imagine stability
despite no historical evidence in support of that psychology
to attempt to pretend everything is okay
"You tried to tell me what was right, and I told you what was real"
right and wrong have little to do with survival
the myth of stability we tell our children
to give them the confidence to learn survival
before the real world closes in on them

the space to play
"I just thank the lord for hands to play..."
before work closes in


unsustainable human
leisure guaranteed to one
day be reclaimed by nature