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.

Sunday, August 26

Manifestation Sonnet #0812

books are outer space in places I come from
working minds draped up in sweat and flat screen's fog
we breathe deep the soul glue and let our glow go dumb
perfect storm of still bodies and electrosmog
but I wander these roads with words for my long lost
armed with wild man's beard face and workingman's handshake
uncle sam's goddamn bastard 'cause I can't be bossed
understand self-medication, still I stand straight
this crooked world don't want straight words in a child's head
they want us drunk on dumb when we need sober truth
so old ways ain't forgotten when old folks is dead
want my words to spark a desire for fire in youth
     all day we're kicked in the head and yet still we stand
     when mind matches body's strength, we'll be workingman

2 comments:

mike porkchops said...

Delirious but that was before I got serious which was before I got silly.

Like a three act play with the curtains drawn actors with nothing to say.

Fever dreams what do they mean? In the darkness it's seen with a hidden organ.

The left hand grips a microphone white knuckled while the right's the Korg hand.

Constantly pressured what is the measure of the weight it takes to buckle a man?

A poor boy from the mud and bricks and sorrow and shit must take command.

Of the ship's navigation system 'cause it seems that the artificial intelligence is now actually living and giving new orders to the space ship.

Which will doom us humans to funerals at space. Whole human race just floating like reeds in the river. With no pace which to drive us and no place that will allow us survival.

Only mutilated corpses await. Free of spirit but full of grace. For grace is rot and death is all we've got. What's sought my fellow men? Truth crowing like a cock on high morning? Why do we cower before yellow men who pretend to rule us while inside ourselves a fire's burning?

Beautiful powerful beasts just prowling in the pen.

What the fuck is a government? And if I bought my land I still gotta pay rent? And if I refuse they pull a Jewel and my family is gunned down by the government. What the fuck do I gotta do? Strap myself with c-4 vernacular and battle the bastards with a spectacular suicide lament leaving embassy gates charred and bent?

Well you can't buy freedom with the money of man and if you never can own a sliver of land...

What, oh what be heaven sent? What be the will of hell? I could spell it all out but you've got the mind of a human being and the human mind is full of doubt. Man makes his gods and angels and spends his life being blessed by them and wrestling them from their perches only to be blessed by them when we're passing in our hearses.

Is the nature of free will an illusion? An intrusion to an intrinsic mind already being led by unseen forces? Is every course pre-determined? Are these questions asked on purpose? Delusional daydreaming or a pinprick in a limp dick leaking all the meaning of the world?

What the fuck does a black hole hold? Cat calls to the lonely longing long distance ringing of the soul?

The tone is off 'cause gravity's so damn soft keeping everyone from flying off into the surface of the sun.

Some suckers had twelve disciples but I've got seven billion three hundred seventy six million and one. Adding thousands every single day but not a one knows of who I am and few hear what I say.

Who you gonna pray to, when nobody's listening? Why you bringing that new born to a chapel for christening? You know those holy men just drunk on wine pissing in the basin they'll be washing your babies face in.

You work hard and pay a third your fucking wage to pigs who walk upright on two feet who got pigs on all fours upon the leash to keep you at late nights up off the street . Whose fucking job is to only cage your heat, wound your dreams and make your spirit weak.

Whole damn world got regulated.

Spirit, body and mind serpentinely separated.

And when you got a population with a broken soul you got a people you control.

So free men must stand up and take part. To tyranny, you can put a bullet through my open heart. You can burn down houses and smash communities apart.

Goddamn conquering fools, heed this while I piss upon your shoes.

Where free men stand

Will always stand free land.

Raven Mack said...

motherfuckin porkchops goddamn man email me ravenmack at gmail

where are you now?