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.

Wednesday, July 25

SONG OF THE DAY: Space


Occupying physical space, but metaphysical space cluttered, everything seems to be closing in. No longer have access to the woods and advanced mushroom technologies (send microdosing capsules plz) and even walks becoming harder to find time for, immersion into city’s (large town?) ebb and flow. Not to mention the wireless unseen spiderwebs woven all over which are far thicker among the settled environs of Charlottesville – less woods, less lack of power lines and satellite transmission; thousands of cables and cords and satellite frequencies and wireless routers each one an invisible line through the air, weaving stick thicky space which is not there physically but head begins to feel gobbed and gobbed and gobbed, and they (the eternal “They”) will say “that’s not scientific” but science is not altruistic and I can feel the gobs and I can feel it all closing in and I can feel the frustration not just my own but other people too, the suicide and depression and angst and fear and loathing and worry the big stifling worry of it all is growing and choking people, whether science has caught up to reality or not is not my concern, just want some space for me for others to fucking breath. Doesn’t have to be physical, physical Earth is limited, we all know that, and they (the powerful “They”) have put claim stakes on most all of it, fences around much of that, and razor barbs along wide sections of the fence. Don’t care about physical space necessarily, clear the air, wipe the gobs from my head and stop gobbing it up more, which I need to tell myself, stop pushing all this misinformation and mundane nonsense into brain which floats out to internal sea and creates giant swirling islands of garbage floating in heart, the brain being the land we’ve charted scientifically in our internal Earth, and the heart being the vast unknown ocean which we sort of know but not really because we identify ourselves as brain creatures. But all that brain trash floating into heart, and internet poisoning humans into manufacturing more and more brain trash, in fact believing the best way to counter brain trash is to make better brain trash, and many hearts have become trashed, but if the internal Universe is as vast as the external – if each of us is that single drop in the ocean, then there’s unlimited space, right? Right? Unify and spread out, rather than divide and “but…” up against, right? Right?
Right doesn’t matter. Many are left behind. Many were never asked to go, or to be involved. Many are left on the outside, in fact there’s more outside than in most places, far more, and I guess (I tell myself) it’s not that we need space so much as the claims are false, and the fences are false, and the razor barbs put up to delineate the fences reality in sharp contrast to nature are definitely false, so fuck it. Can’t escape the psychic gobs unseen overhead and all around, and can’t escape the brain trash constantly fed me because it is the basis for which people are tricked into enabling this false “make a living” mythology. But I can try to remember to baptize myself in small moments – yard rabbit, or kid spinning in rain, or laughing with crazy dude on bus, or eye contact with beautiful gaze at the DMV waiting for two hours for very little so might as well love that two second gaze – baptize myself in those moments, and try to do so five times a day, at least, inshallah.

No comments: