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.

Saturday, December 29

SONG OF THE DAY: Black Steel in the Hour of Chaos


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An unlimited war on terror, but never no war on psychic terrordome constructed over top us all like invisible bubble, filtering what information is fed, feed lots of fear and loathing and self-hatred, fattening us with lethargy of spirit, then being told to consume a fresh identity, over and over, rebranding ourselves as if that’s how nature works, as if we aren’t natural beings, as if a new style of clothes corrects the essence of who we are, which we mistakenly believe is flawed in an abnormal way. The welcome to the terrordome sign faded and old, because it’s nothing new at this point. Children having grown up their entirely lives inside the terrordome, to where they say, “you don’t understand, that’s just how it is,” because the notion of there not being a terrordome no longer exists in the human brain. “It is what it is” I say to the mirror, and I wonder if my eyes really are duller than they used to be, or if I’m just seeing things. The terrordome is the full realization of the prison in all metaphysical space. I’ll go back to my feedlot desk next week, after the “holiday”, after a new year where I resolve that somehow it’s all going to be different, but the steel has expanded – there is no great escape on the books in the immediate future. Not that anyone can see. What will spark that moment? What person in the street who just happens to light a fire, perhaps of themselves, immolation of self in final act of frustration, and we all go, “yeah, yes, YES” if we are there in person and see it happen, as the flames dissipate the illusion of all this. And it won’t circulate as viral sensation, because the revolution will not be digitized, the algorithms are pasteurized to conduit you unto the fear and loathing and self-hatred and purchasing of new identities through consumption. But live in real life the moment will flash bang into a tiny grenade of chaos that will begin a trigger like long string of human firecrackers, and a great escape attempt will be made. Might not be successful, at least not for everyone, but we shall see how many dents we can put into this terrordome when it happens.

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