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, July 12

friday doldrums

peacocks ain't buying shit no more
hardly a gamecock left in this cyber-coop
the family van busted & the washing machine don't drain
because of shoddy plastic parts on the inside
(I know, I've dug into them)
but the world keeps spinning

truck acting like it wants to die
seems like this always happens in
the 250K to 285K range
summertime usually
global warming ain't good on manmade creations
including man
but we'll cross that bridge
then burn it, when the time comes
and the world keeps spinning

work malnourishes me
but gives me money
not enough to pay for all the shit
but if I can keep bailing out water
at half the rate it floods in
I might be able to die while on paid vacation
probably camping as I can't afford a cottage
but at least I can afford to call living outside "camping" still
as the stars slide overhead
as the world keeps spinning

wishing for the past's promises is all I have left
promises of success, of people paying
for the things you like to do
of affording to do those things
without begging, harassing, asking over
and over and over and over...
but the world keeps spinning

it's just life, just work
(because that's this culture's ways)
it's just money
(also this culture's way, tied into the first)
it's just the struggle
(always present, regardless of culture)
it's just feeling compelled to scream into the void
hoping for something to echo back
waiting... waiting...
but I am alone on this ledge,
and I have to accept that shit
while the world keeps spinning

sure, motherfuckers don't care
but they never did
and never will
that's why they are motherfuckers
and there's a lot of them
most every face you greet is incomplete
on the inside, and quite the motherfucker
waiting to be unlocked or just triggered
(as most don't have locks any more)
and I can't take it personal,
it's just the world spinning the way it has always spun
be happy to be sensitive enough to feel the spins
stay grounded enough to not get yourself sick at it
no place will ever be stable in the grand scheme
(not even at the top of pyramids)
it is the way of the people flittering around on the surface
as the world keeps spinning

painting and spackling after work
in a rough country house
as youngest sister will have firstborn
in a month or so, thus we make room...
hope the truck doesn't die in transit
hope the nephew is born strong of spirit
hope he is able to grow old, comfortably of spirit
while the world keeps spinning

I am a natural born gamecock
you can see it in my walk
my shoulders have always been heavy
with chips and weight
and sensitivities to the world's spinning ways
gamecocks make noise to mark domain
gamecocks stab spurs at perceived threats
and gamecocks gonna crow
as sure as the sun rises
because the world keeps spinning

one thousand feathers
while the world keeps spinning


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