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.

Tuesday, June 9


Waves of purple vapour obliterate the statues to long dead falsebeards, still worshipped by country folk who have been trained to believe a Wal-Mart parking lot is a hay field. Sitting in line at the miracle mile Chik-fil-a for twenty efficient minutes is their scenic country ride, ever so briefly letting the real world air in with power windows to grabble their post-modern supper. The obedient wage slave curtsies, saying “it’s my pleasure to serve you” dutifully. And these post-modern country folk who don’t recognize their country has had the flags of an international cartel of lawless brands planted everywhere, drive off into oblivion, taking exit Fuck Everybody Else to hustle back to their 2-acre two-storey McPlantation home where old glory still has a spotlight on it out front, flying just above their chosen battle flag of lost causes which they still claim mental allegiance to despite being as domesticated and docile as feedlot cows in their physical existence. Continuing their practice of suckin’ on the state’s chili dog outside the tastee-freez of reality, secure in their inherited and carefully maintained “simple” comfort. Let the waves of purple (and orange) vapour continue to teargas their oblivion into discomfort.

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