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, March 29

twitter renga #0218

(last month's twitter renga @rojonekku
birth month renga) 

neither my father
nor my father's father made
it to age 50

I turn forty-five this month... 
challenging my destiny

neither my father
nor my father's father gave
up their worst demons

I've done what I can, but still
see failure demons swirling

"simplify the code"
said white work dude this morning; 
elder beech trees laughed

what Yakubian trickster
trapped me in this existence?

big-head scientists
in vast abundance, many
believe their own good

"one of the good ones" racialist
thinking, inverted backwards

the refrain remains
FUCK Y'ALL FAKE MOTHERFUCKERS - 
I see you lurking

propagating false world through
digital utopias

encourage children
to learn arson techniques,
to archive in ash

the cleansing power of fire - 
small big bang vaccinations

challenging human 
creature comfort through in real 
life trial by fire 

colonized minds too settled 
in psychological flaws

apocalyptic
balance for permaculture - 
nothing's permanent

from fertile rubble and ash
the next genesis begins

let all this false shit
go ahead and end; people
dwell too much on death

somebody gonna be left
to get it started again

if eighty percent
of all people died, shit man,
one billion's still left

it'd just be like a mass
extinction refresh button

mark another year
survived, which is better than
the alternative

lowering expectations
on a daily basis now

low expectations,
low libido, low ego,
low superego

low life lived - the only highs
I've known have been chemical

so little still gives
me warm blood flow excitement...
dull, mundane, slow death

life spent trying is wasted;
these devils are relentless

my firstborn turning
nineteen means I'm old as fuck;
she's still young, with dreams

letting my dreams die in peace,
not misplacing them on her

the balancing act
of teaching both realism
and optimism

sure, things are totally fucked...
but imagine what is next!

we are no more (or
less) doomed than ever before...
nothing's set in stone

the Earth's healing properties
been mostly ignored by us

even shit which is set
in stone can be smashed apart
when necessary

then little rubble pieces
can be thrown at devil eyes

old dirtgods throwing
stones towards predator drones
passing overhead

one day I'm gonna hit
one, and that fucker will crash

young dirtgods growing 
in the wake of wild ripples 
made by feral folks 

("dirtgods" is gender-neutral; 
call them they, better yet y'all)

one finger waving
passing other late model
beaters on back roads

saving my middle finger
for the system, forever

anti-government
nature - overthrow this one,
install a new one

fuck that one too; read some Frantz
Fanon ya motherfuckers

(already aware
of problematic nature
of "motherfucker")

(product of environment)
LIFE - A PROBLEMATIC FAVE

anyways, glad I'm
still alive, and not dead, though
do feel 'bout half-dead

I should be living harder
instead of hardly living

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