RAVEN MACK is a mystic poet-philosopher-artist of the Greater Appalachian unorthodox tradition who does all types of things, daily. The best place to get it right now is his Patreon or find his books at Amazon.

Friday, November 9


[today's song blurb is also a freestyle sonnet, because I am a dirtgod who does such things] 

Traveling the vacated wasteland of what's known, 
innate desire to roam denied by days' trifles, 
but bound to explode with gone mode, love chances blown 
and bridges burned - back tracking consciousness stifles 

disappearance; dystopia ended up far 
more mundane than expected, wasting most my time 
distracted by digital poisons, psychic scar 
tissue thickens into metaphysical slime 

and sludge; fog so thick you think you're woke while broken, 
clear-headed while ripped by septic tide lacking sand 
beneath barefeet; end times ancient texts had spoken 
of remain horizon only; still though, well-planned  

peeps stockpile milk crates, machetes, pallets, and tarps; 
soundtracks for disappearance like angelic harps. 

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