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.

Thursday, February 1

twitter renga #0118

(last month's twitter renga at @rojonekku 
ended up pretty amazing) 

the calendar's been
flipped, but nothing much has changed...
same desk, same dead end

the chance for fresh perspective
often lost in these too-deep ruts

"hope springs eternal
in the human breast" was not
writ in cold weather

winter is time of darkness - 
ascetic nihilism

last night in full moon,
the kettlebell handle was
ten degrees at best

still I swung it, stubbornly
wearing black basketball shorts

viking berserker
blood exists somewhere within
my genetic muck

raven mack dirtgod thought and 
memory winter workout

hung from Yggdrasil,
bloody Odin received runes,
"word to word to word"

same: I prefer heavily
fortified mead of poetry

all mythologies
have similar tales of how
poetry was born

heart-innate mythologies
truer than brain's mad science

heart thinks like elder
beech - silently seeing all,
knowing what makes sense

brain thinks like fence - attempting
to separate existence

borders should be crossed,
identities dismantled,
all colonies burned

archive this poison culture
in ash; let's begin again

post-colonial
theory five hundred level
class, taught by beech tree

getting my masters in no
gods, no masters (just dirtgod)

perpetrate dirtgod
meditations to deny
natural born trash

to the upright world, still trash -
lackluster human resource

too fuckin' cold to
care; too fuckin' old to try;
heart paralysis

cuddled under shitty quilts...
this world is too fuckin' much

counting off the days
until springtime, when I'll bloom
like fuckin' redbuds

I have faith in the purple
protocols of warm rebirth

Allah bumps mad Screw -
just look at redbud blossoms
and echinacea

la ilaha illallah
la ilaha illallah

worthlessness feelings
fought off with simple dhikr's
internal jihad

la ilaha illallah
la ilaha illallah

people got it all
figured out, in ways which feel
alien to me

is your happiness for real?
please friend, hydrocodone me

opioids and gods -
it's self-medication or
self-revelation

papaver somniferum's
smoky embrace perhaps both

opium access
limited but opioids
in great abundance

manufactured blooms of free
market capitalism

tired of pretending
progress still possible while
madness reigns supreme

fuck y'all fake motherfuckers
la ilaha illallah

the myth of progress -
simple-brained humanity's
Sisyphean stone

stubborn homo sapiens
still believing they own hype

knowing with the brain
is over-complicated process
of smashing apart

knowing with the heart easy
as fuck - sit there, check your self

humans ain't shit but
hoes & tricks... suck on these nuts
& lick on this dick

lol, not really y'all...
I'm selective with my dick

penis has no heart
nor brains - direct connect to
gut intuition

vagina I can't speak for
(wish more dudes would think like that)

Not All Men will help
you deconstruct and destroy
then rebuild from scraps

even those that appear to
be allies might be man-wolves

majority of
modern people - woman or 
man - is fake as fuck

constant public relations
device in hand doesn't help

always tell myself
"fuck y'all fake motherfuckers"
when walking through world

double middle fingers to
the mirror to keep self hyped

dusty ass bathroom
mirrors reflecting too damn
much sadness lately

can't wait for spring to unlock
redbud blossom raven mack

"hope is as hollow
as fear" said the poet,
quoting Tao Te Ching

thoughts of bamboo stalks growing
along both sides of a fence

moments not minutes
meditations as I sit
through morning meetings

my paycheck work is not my
real work - I am an artist

a Natural Born
Artist, regardless of lot
in life work assigned

a Natural Born Artist,
all eight directions, all day

a Natural Born
Artist can't be quantified,
needs not a co-sign

Natural Born Artists have
illegitimate nature

"what exactly is
your art?" a non-believing
gatekeeper might ask

"ev'rything motherfucker"
all eight directions, all day

save your poetry
for secretive submissions;
I blast mine like howls

assimilation is for
those who believe in system

last night, Saul Williams
said "fuck the beliefs" as they
are our minds' police

the internal jihad of
shooting cops inside your brain

Raven Mack Dirtgod
internal jihad - remain
at odds with gridlock

a Natural Born Artist
sowing fractal geospheres

shout out and love to
all Natural Born Artists
sowing y'all's wild seeds

fuck orders fuck submissions
fuck the beliefs which choke y'all

artists natural
born tend to feel like artists
natural forlorn

the legitimate world spins
upon a crooked axis

the mantra remains
FUCK Y'ALL FAKE MOTHERFUCKERS
'til covered with dirt

the fake own the so-called "real
world" in its small entirety

one day your power
grid will fail; the fog depends
on batteries' buzz

once the fog clears, we'll shine our
guillotines with devil blood


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