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.

Wednesday, March 30


building my sanctuary 
one found object at a time, 
making something from nothing 

Tuesday, March 29

Monday, March 28


monumental energy 
shifts are always lurking just 
beneath surface, to make change 

Sunday, March 27


cultivated connections 
which poison far more than they 
fuel… unsustainable ways 

Saturday, March 26

Thursday, March 24

SONG OF THE DAY: Come and Get Your Love

brain not always working well enough to put whole thoughts into whole sentences lately 
can put half thoughts into long sentences or make whole sentences 
out of fragment clusters but fuck man 
feeling exhausted 
maybe this is what getting old is 
I don't know 
weight of the world both immediate and beyond my control 
starting to feel like too many cobwebs 
and you can't fit a broom into the corner of your mind 
so I juggle expectations and obligations 
and hope to make it to another day 
where I don't have to listen to an alarm clock 
and can sleep in my own bed 
unencumbered by anything 
need to be floating again 
like clouds 
not feeling lost but having to keep pushing 
like fog 
come and get 
your love 

TH1NGS C4N'T 3V3R B3 3X4CT...

things can’t ever be exact 
same way they once was, so you 
gotta let all that shit go 

Wednesday, March 23


make sport of self-destruction - 
“only the strong shall survive” 
tattooed on sun-stained shoulders 

Tuesday, March 22


Pure vibes right here. Really need more pure vibes in my life. Too much going on that amounts to nothing that feels good in my heart. Just maintaining the house of cards waiting for the wind to destroy civilization as we know it. Oh well, fuck it.

DR34MS 4R3 4 C4RN1V4L G4M3...

dreams are a carnival game 
where only the wealthy win… 
the cynicism of doom 

Sunday, March 20

Saturday, March 19

Friday, March 18

Thursday, March 17


I was introduced to this song first as a sample used by 8Ball & MJG, but then that same song as heard a thousand Screw tapes, so that the regular speed 8Ball & MJG song sounds fucked up to me. But then a lot of Cameo tracks show up here or there on the full DJ Screw tape selections, so I either got used to listening to a version of it on a Screw tape, or I played the 45 myself on slow too much. Sometimes it’s hard to tell, and to be honest, I’m not even sure I have that specific Cameo 45, but I know I got a few of them, and I only play 45s at 33 speed, because the world’s spinning fast enough as it is. And yet here is the regular version of the Cameo song “Candy” at regular speed, and it’s pretty fuckin’ great. Ultimately, I think the in order for humans to better adjust to time travel, and navigating a fourth dimension, we have to let go of this notion that everything should enjoyed at regular speed. What even is regular?


visions of self best displayed 
through slow painstaking labor; 
immediacy distorts 

Wednesday, March 16


You can inherit wealth, but not style. Style comes from culture, often enough separated from wealth these days, and to be honest, culture can’t ever be owned because it’s literal “culture” that ferments within the hearts and minds of folks practicing it. The issue with how “western culture” has developed from English colonialism is that those with wealth co-opt style by purchasing it, and in fact, any of us growing in this “western culture” are encouraged to purchase new identities as often as possible. But this also dilutes the actual culture, and in fact fucks it all up, cheapens it by attaching wealth to it rather than practice. (Practice is always worth more than wealth.) So western culture, which waves the flag of the great melting pot of cultures, also is just as much a consumption of all other cultures at this point as well. It’s like a buffet of culture, with the blandest, least spicy version of every culture, under one big heat lamp, and that’s supposed to be great. I was thinking on this earlier today as I conversed with a young creative cousin about AAVE and a meme I saw about how use of the habitual be was common in both West African and Gaelic languages, and kids shown a picture of Cookie Monster sick with Elmo eating some cookies got asked “Who be eating cookies?” and black kids knew to answer Cookie Monster while white kids answered Elmo. But if the kids were asked “Who is eating cookies?” all the kids knew the difference and answered Elmo, thus bad English actually had more depth and nuance.
Anyways, I’m a first generation college student, and I learned a lot, and was horribly embarrassed about how I was when I first went off to there. But over time, I’ve realized all my style came from before college and if anything I’ve had to make sure I didn’t learn all the wrong shit while learning all those things to get that expensive ass piece of paper that says I was highly educated. I always try to remind myself, as Jerry Clower said (whom my dad played often), to not get educated beyond my intelligence.


whole worlds hidden inside the 
reflections you never watch - 
all too busy chasing green 

Tuesday, March 15

L0V3 SN34KS 1NT0 Y0VR H34RT W1TH...

love sneaks into your heart with 
ease; takes maintenance to keep 
that shit from fading away 

Monday, March 14

SONG OF THE DAY: There's A Devil On The Loose

A myriad of devils enabled through digital mitosis, part of the terms of service we all agreed to as department of defenses began offensive upon organic consciousness, to create collective thought devoid of heart, entirely tethered to trending timelines, manufacturing lemming effect down rabbit holes, as we all dance towards oblivion, refreshing our feed in the cyber feedlots of the alleged end times, except it ain’t, since manmade mechanisms always break down, eventually, inevitably, and we’ll yet again feel the glorious sun, stars, and moon on our naked foreheads, unclogged by electronic clutter from device.

H1ST0R1C T3NDR1LS 41N'T B4D...

historic tendrils ain’t bad; 
manufactured tethers which 
trap you in stuck place ain’t good 

Sunday, March 13

TH3R3'S 4LW4YS 4 H0R1Z0N...

there’s always a horizon 
perfect for disappearing 
after, if you are rootless 

Saturday, March 12

Thursday, March 10

Wednesday, March 9

Tuesday, March 8

Monday, March 7

SONG OF THE DAY: Never Too Much

Tired of narcissists masquerading as body positive, when they look conventionally attractive. Tired of scolding progressives who don't speak the language of having to make broken shit work, because there's no money to fix anything. Tired of people who think they've been cancel cultured because they said stupid shit in a crowded room and somebody got on their ass about it. Tired of the "I'm white but I've experienced oppression" mental gymnastics olympic trials constantly happening. Tired of people in love with their own image, in an unhealthy way where they demand you fuel their egotistic serotonin by clicking little buttons and sharing as well. Tired of people calling themselves connoisseurs when they are consumers, who support their favorite media oligarch owning all the content they want to consume in one convenient to them place. Tired of what internet culture has become. Tired of thinking about dumb shit like Elon Musk or Kanye West or some other oligarch narcissist who is ultimately entirely useless to everybody within 100 miles of where I stand. Tired of the mass gentrification of thought that has come with web 2.0. Tired of so much shit.
What I ain't tired of? Driving back roads, from here to the horizon. Roadside kooks selling weird shit. Sitting outside without device. Open windows with curtains blowing so hard it knocks the plant off the dresser there. Dogs barking in the distance. The smell of a burn barrel going hard. Real life shit, as unmanufactured as possible, and with a good percentage of decay. It ain't real life shit if there's no decay.


self-described alphas defile 
the world without regard for 
anything but own desires 

Sunday, March 6

Saturday, March 5


I recently realized I hadn’t bought any machetes in a long time, which worried me, although as I thunk about it, I realized I have them stashed throughout the house, to where you’re never actually more than 15 feet away from a machete (if you know where they are… which I do). But also I could get that weapon calculus down to 10 feet if I got some more. I hate our consumer capitalist bullshit society which has propped up this American Empire with extreme waste of resources, our own individual wealth, and just the entirety of the Earth to be honest. But there’s still some things you can never have too much of, like machetes, milk crates, tarps, pieces of rebar… all those basic foundations for survival during tight times or thriving during complacent periods. And you don’t need to be fancy about none of those things. You can find $200 machetes online if you want, but if you’re getting a $200 machete, you’re missing the entire point of machetes in my opinion. I mean, you don’t want a cheap machete that dulls immediately and can’t be sharpened, just like you want a decent mil tarp as well. Milk crates are milk crates for the most part, and with rebar, quarter inch isn’t as strong as half inch, but you’ll never run out of uses for quarter inch rebar. Trust me, it’s universally useful.

1D3NT1T13S D3V3L0P...

identities develop 
from the culture ingested - 
nature or environment 

Friday, March 4

SONG OF THE DAY: Love Come Down

Imagine the type of life you must be living to go by a nickname like “Champagne”. Imagine people bumping into you at the laundromat, saying, “Hey Champagne! How’s things been?” It feels almost impossible not to wanna put CHAMPAGNE in silver reflective glitter letters at the bottom of your doors of your ’88 Caprice if that was your name.

ST4R1NG 4T TH3 H34V3NS FR0M...

staring at the heavens from 
a world full of folks swiping 
right on their own reflection 

Thursday, March 3

L34RN1NG T0 L0V3 MYS3LF W4S...

learning to love myself was 
hardest lesson learned, but I 
think I’ve finally got it 

Wednesday, March 2

Tuesday, March 1


One day I’d like to cut the top off an old school bus, preferably by driving it underneath a railroad bridge lacking enough clearance, just peeling the top off at high enough speed to not get stuck, and then jam tunes like this as I drive all the way to Baja, down the whole thing to the very tip, and vibe. If I ever win the lottery, everybody is fucked.


though the psychic boundaries 
were clearly marked, I somehow 
stumbled my way to better