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.

Thursday, May 2

May the One

polysyllabic motherfuckers think they smart
flaunting they over-education like big dicks,
acting like logic be straight brain acts with no heart
involved, no regular ass dude skill to see tricks
as they played out; these cats think they got extra-wise
analytical abilities through degrees
obtained as they daddy’s money gets recognized
into next layer of MDs and PhDs,
then they learn to forget privilege pre-ordained
and explain they success as hard work diligence,
but bitch, dig a ditch for dollars then come complain
about how people be lacking intelligence;
talk big word solutions to all the shit you want,
but you ain’t solved shit for real, just talking to flaunt.

dumb done got dumber, ain’t no doubt about that fact,
but smart done gone downhill too at a steeper dip;
we all internetted up, let like minds attract,
full of self-import like we genius for the hip,
properly inclined, tuned in through the constant buzz,
mocking ignorant ass others as lesser ass bitches
without physical flesh finger on what we was
getting done other than distractions, thick riches
of mindless clever memes, severing us from “they”,
trusting in a day of scientific rapture
where non-believing beliebers will lead the way
with like button witticisms, plus screen capture
cum animated gif of our gift to the earth -
that we so damn “best.evar” since our online birth

stack o’ books by the bed collect dust to the head
never read as I tread barely above waters
struggle to juggle financial chains until dead
while simultaneously trying to raise three daughters
without the same environmental ill effects
which had polluted me; but made me see the art
in every piece of shit I passed as paychecks
slipped through loose grips, I chased after words in my heart
after hours, in the dark, brain-lit by half-witted
delusions that them books might get etched with my name,
but you’re either born a success or pre-fitted
for failure as birthright regardless of your game;
but real deal wordsmith shapes swords from the suffering,
real grime never shines through library buffering

big ass manifesto, poor man blessed to see through
stick figure representations of attractive
images, bitches tricked into trying to do
impossible bullshit, build radioactive
hips unable to birth chilling ass children much
less wiggle from sexual friction as we pass
time in the ancient ways, buck naked caveman clutch
activating molecules excited by ass
that got power, that got force, that got mountain curves
creating earthquake motion buried inside us deep,
going deeper when stimulating them wild nerves
what which first caused man and woman to dark cave creep
and make babies for the future as eras pass,
but you can’t procreate truth with a skinny ass

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