RAVEN MACK is a mystic poet-philosopher-artist of the Greater Appalachian unorthodox tradition. He does have an amazing PATREON, but also *normal* ARTIST WEBSITE too.

Saturday, September 21

M0R3 T1M3S SP3NT 0N 1NT3RST4T3S...

more time spent on interstates
than I ever expected;
dirt roads mostly in rear view

SONG OF THE DAY: 1 Jvst W4nt T0 C3l3br4t3

ghostly wails stumbling through life, carrying too much baggage I ain't even mean to accumulate
mostly sober of substance but for what not sure
the days still feel like cobra clutch
running between designated meeting spots
points on the grid
let this tired dirtgod run free along the railroad tracks
a couple hours tomorrow please
today's already been divvied up into minimum payments
honoring responsibilities
ancestral voices whispering that it's all a trick
a trap an overly-complicated scam conning away your days
embezzling life

Friday, September 20


don't discuss politics with dudes
displaying classic cars, not
unless you got two right hands

SONG OF THE DAY: Slow Spinnin'

World still spinning slow, at same pace as ever through same space as ever, despite the malcontent machinery manufacturing mad anxiety that we’re gonna walk into a giant blank wall marked END TIMES GAME OVER any year now. Is the cataclysmic change of climate true? Sure. But lolol you ain’t dismantled the device in your hands have you? Any time shit falls apart, part of it grows back together – that’s the natural way of things. Scars get left, sometimes things get wiped out, but people ain’t gonna stop scrabbling across the surface of this Earth any time soon, albeit the herd may get thinned. Mushroom spores will scatter, the poison clouds will eventually dissipate, and sure it takes many half-lives for some of our poison to decay, many of us are already living half-lives ourselves, so maybe shit needs to fall apart and get pieced back together anyways. Unfortunately, people tend to be complacent, and it takes trauma to wake us up at times. Nonetheless, it’s Friday, it’s chill outside (at least where I am), so walk around outside (if you are able) and scatter some metaphysical spores amongst the industrial detritus of our these days American lives.


folks hustling after fool's gold,
hoping for economic
salvation from the system

Wednesday, September 18

SONG OF THE DAY: Extra Consent

We can’t have nothin’ nice. The brief bright trajectory of Lizzo soon to be crushed by Democratic Party speaking engagements, Nissan commercials, and other types of neoliberal homogenization. Of course the automatic reactionary rebuttal to this is WELL JUST ENJOY THE THINGS YOU ENJOY WHO CARES? and yes, that is very much true. But also, they (the big inexplicable Shadow People type but not in the shadows at all but instead living on top of all the pyramids of wealth) have a way of bleaching the soul out of everything. By soul I mean that gut tingling don’t give a fuck makes perfect sense like sunshine on the river type shit, which makes perfect sense yes, but then somehow they dam it up, put the shine through a filter, and it just hits awkwardly after that. Ain’t no scientific explanation for it (likely because the same they that’s THEY control scientific method) and it is what it is. Go ‘head Lizzo – get that bag.

D1G1T4L P0L1C3 ST4T3 D1GS...

digital police state digs
deeper into subconscious
of these blue lives bootlickers

Tuesday, September 17


hermit's cave in Buckingham,
underneath highway fifteen
bridge over the James River


E-scooters are the fun new way to signify gentrification of a space, although actually it's for the community's good, and they'll promise to station them all over the city for people who don't have easy access to affordable transportation, except then it's just at colleges and around gentrifying neighborhoods or from bars to apartments, it's not like you see a hard-working person with their metal lunch pail riding the Lime to the ol' nuts-n-bolts factory. I mostly like to use them in one of two ways - either driving them into public housing and leaving them there, which I guess unfortunately might be giving the company false data which supports their claims that it actually serves the community instead of their profits. So maybe I'll do the second one more, which is drive them down to Moore's Creek, leave them, and once they've sat there for a day or two, throw them in the creek. Nobody's going back up that hill on one of those things. I keep waiting for my account to get locked for always driving them to a place where they end up disappearing but it hasn't happened yet.

3V3RY 4LL3Y H4S 1TS...

every alley has its
own security eyeballs,
hovering above, watching

Monday, September 16


always cutting through alleys
whenever meandering
on ten mile meditations

SONG OF THE DAY: Canary Rhombus

The sign of a great producer is people know their instrumentals more than the actual recorded song. I got zero desire to listen to more trash ass cocaine salesman name-dropping expensive brands for the three millionth time. But I'll play the shit out of this version of Canary Rhombus.

Thursday, September 12

B33 B4LM B4CKDR0P 4S W3 DVG...

bee balm backdrop as we dug
almost six feet deep in the
thick southern humidity

SONG OF THE DAY: Allah Hoo Allah Hoo

Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan is basically the King Diamond of Sufi devotional music. Tons of qawwali music inside the cybervoids, tons by this dude, but I prefer to just listen to ALLAH HOO ALLAH HOO ALLAH HOO ALLAH HOO on loop, in the woods, chanting with the crows. I wasn’t gonna say nothing smart about music but then I accidentally explained who he was a little. Pretend I didn’t. Pretend none of this happened.

P3RS0N4L L1M1T4T10NS...

personal limitations
of vision finally reached
with these shitty cameras

Wednesday, September 11


cutting through old coal yard from
Belmont to downtown, watching
gentrification's tendrils


I have never understood suburbia, having not experienced it other than as an outsider, and still am confused by it. I’ve always been alien to the Northern Virginia style progressive suburbs, which produced most of the people I met in college, and felt like it was missing something. I used to think of it as fake, but tbh it’s probably more real in our American culture than what I think of as real. But something wasn’t there which made me comfortable, and I always distrusted it as well as products of those environments.
Strangely, even worse is where I’ve lived the past two decades, which is a strange faux-country basic communities suburbia best expressed by radio country music, full of dudes who drive jacked up trucks they’re still making payments on, that are never dirty, and American flags on the front lawn, with mad blue lives matter-esque apparel. I’m even more confused by this fake country suburbia, especially since one of my children seems fascinated with this as the basis for reality, due to public schooling. In fact, we were talking about this on the long ride into school on a week she was with me, and how our views of what “country” was were so different. And again, I guess it goes back to my notion of what is real is likely not as real in the American experience sense as what she thinks real country is, because there’s a fuck ton of dudes driving around in shiny new pick-up trucks who have two-story houses with basements and attached garages, and nobody seems to be struggling with payments because they stay the fuck there. How do they do it?

I’ve come to speculate that lifestyle remains foreign to you if it began as foreign because there’s gotta be some familial wealth built in somehow, even if it’s as simple as down payments or land or I don’t fuckin’ know. But I stay wondering how people have paid for the life they’re living, and act like this is the foundation of the American experience. And these are all the people that voted for Trump or were with her in resisting Trump – those with vested interests in empire because their foundation is one of stability, and a certain level of comfort that comes with that. I ain’t feeling it, because despite being better off than I’ve ever been in my life, it’s all still unstable as fuck, and I’m more likely to be homeless than retire.

But my youngest is always talking about when I get a house, when I buy a house, and how we’ll get a golden retriever or a dachshund, and everybody will have their own bedroom instead of her and her sibling sharing the second room, and if their oldest sibling comes home for a visit, somebody has to sleep on the couch, and that shit eats me up when she’s talking about a house because lolol I’m 46 man, I don’t have enough years of making money left in me to have a mortgage, nor am I even close to having shit together to afford a house in the area I live. It’s stacked against you, and I’ve got it better than so many people I know of too! It’s like this riptide that’s tearing many of us off into oblivion, and you fight constantly sideways, hoping to get closer to the shore where you see these illusions of others just frolicking around, having houses they renovate and shit, going on vacations to actual destinations, two car payments (or more), but you don’t get any closer. You get frustrated and quit fighting for like one month, and you’re ripped further out by the riptide. And even though all you can focus on is the people on shore, enjoying the good life promised in the brochure that you got handed in public school growing up, there’s a ton of people even further out into the sea of oblivion. And that’s our system.

People at work talking leisure life things eating another purchased lunch in the break room, one woman mocking a friend for not having furniture set up in the bottom floor of her renovated house yet, not Air-Bnb’ing that shit right, and how her friend should just go get some furniture at Ikea and get it set up right. Meanwhile, I’m thinking about how people like that further drive up rents, because their maximizing what they own’s output economically, but also the people who started out with access to wealth end up acquiring wealth more easily, so it’s a self-perpetuating system, and between the allegedly progressive faux-urban Air-Bnb gentrifiers, and the allegedly conservative faux-country new F150 drivers flying Blue Lives Matter flags beneath American flags on their manicured front lawn, it fills me with confusion and rage and wanting to smash everything into fucking dust, while also wishing I could hit the lottery and disappear the fuck off to a mountain somewhere in Peru forever. But then I remember I have to call creditors to try and get my minimum payments a little lower because I’ve got too many minimum payments running into conflict with each other because I haven’t hit the maximum out-of-pocket just yet even though hit the deductible again for the fourth year running, and I just concentrate on swimming sideways a little harder. You get too focused on those frolicking on the shore for too long, you’ll get yourself sucked further out into oblivion, so you gotta stay focused on swimming against the current sideways and keep praying you hit land before you drown.

Tuesday, September 3


post-colonial identity in collapsing world
once the global borders dissolve and
semi-autonomous zones blossom like dandelions
committing treason upon whiteness
shedding it like snake’s skin
rubbed off between a fissure in the slate
as the grid collapses more and more
off the grid gardens of what’s next
get built
no sharing no soft snitching no socializing media
just getting back to the basics
of life being lived

this is not living
what we are doing now
though we get constant performance reviews
which facilitate the facade
and reinforce the false
but it ain’t living
not like an organic being is meant
to be doing
to be moving
to be walking
to be wandering
physical steps not digital imagined movements
arguing about red blue black white green pills
manufactured pharmacology of belief systems
transplanted thinking
a mind that feels the vibrations of fruiting plants
but it’s only a mechanical simulation

and still I write too many words
inside this grid instead of
out in the wild
ignoring the lesson
of the dandelion
like a goddamned fool