RAVEN MACK is a mystic poet-philosopher-artist of the Greater Appalachian unorthodox tradition. He does have an amazing PATREON, but also *normal* ARTIST WEBSITE too.

Tuesday, November 15

Domestic Terrorism Sonnet: #5

Dwelling silently in shadows - the best disguise;
a single sniper's bullet quickly cracks the skull
of self-ordained blue bloods; with rifle at sunrise,
practicing long distance precision - a time lull
in these thick eastern woods, where freedom still exists,
though legal developments encroach our wild lands,
taming men's minds with comfort; a free man resists
dependence on neighbors, survives with his own hands.
Coming down off the mountain to climb their ornate
courthouse from the back alley, stand in position
for hours, scoping the perimeter; my mandate
is basic liberty that all men invision
within themselves as the pure life, cherished like breath;
any man blocking freedom's pursuit deserves death.

Sunday, November 13

Domestic Terrorism Sonnet: #4

Though a man can't manage when there is no labor,
it's best to plan secretly, blueprints internal,
drawn over time, with no notice from a neighbor;
seeming ev'ryday Joe - Manchurian colonel -
waiting for triggers to release firing pins
of well-concealed fury, so as to not be judged
by juries of peers paralyzed by fear; the World spins
fast, but a masterplan's path must be slowly trudged.
Accumulating components with stealth, one piece
by one piece, to make real what's been built in your mind
a thousand times over, trusting no man to grease
wheels you've set in motion where lawmen cannot find.
False safety destroyed by elements of surprise,
dwelling silently in shadows - the best disguise.

Monday, November 7

Domestic Terrorism Sonnet: #3

Forgetting that our muscles make this teeming force,
we accept cashless status, trusting magnetic
strips, sitting idle in cubicles; nothing worse
than work without labor to leave us indebted
to others for survival's lifetime guarantee;
calloused hands replaced by callous hearts worshipping
book smarts, thinking credit is our land of plenty -
our limit raised when we juggle without slipping.
Being provided for by number whores counting
beans to make decisions is sly smoke and mirror
carnival tricks to base our lives upon, mounting
intangible foundations to see shit clearer.
Blue suit consultants explain things as our saviour,
though man can't manage when there is no labor.

MX-du Renga #2

funky stinkin' goat
makes the break for the pokeberry
purple mouth and fur

some folks cook pokeweed in pots
vinegar calming the taste

where the kitchen soothes
to understand its meaning
an apron's worn space

curving the waist of love dirt
filling emptying the sink

dishes stack three high
sunday morning quick clean-up
for scrambled egg pan

bloody mary celery
eases sunday to monday

greeting the morning
seven directions calling
days fill in my void

monday means work time mindframe
friday kicks in recklessness

waking and living
picking the food from chaos
can't cut what we use

the wholeness is the whole thing
and orbits are a constant

shot pool at orbitz
kids who were high school stars felt

with the eight ball that gleaned
the felted path to pocket

snortin' rails and lines
my pockets turn inside out
sharing and it's gone

selfish minds sharing lines last
as long as money's easy

giving way to stars
what you are seeing right now
passed to past long gone

lightning zip zap flash anse
stand right now scream like lupo

superheroes dance
bright colors flash like spent bulbs
old worn underoos

pictures steal souls say old drunks
whose heritage is diseased

[Suzy, Paola, Dave, Raven... in no particular order of participation...poetry is stupid]