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, December 30

SONG OF THE DAY: Arb Share'i

Why hadn't I been posting songs of the day for an imaginary audience that's mostly robots trawling the internet for data? Idk tbh. I guess I've been "busy".

Thursday, December 21

SONG OF THE DAY: Sweetest Taboo (kudzu'd)

Sonnets about nothing are everything right now.

Leaning into each day's blessing, without a curse 
spoken, step into sunshine to further unwind 
my meandering path, avoiding the adverse 
obstacles others engineered to double blind 

big picture outlook. I'm a Blue Ridge wanderer, 
by way of southside back roads but born from Greater 
Appalachian diaspora - wild ponderer 
of "The Power" my pops spoke of, cultivator 

of lounge, practicing watercourse way to remain 
constantly moving but with most chill ripple 
instead of mechanized hurtle. Hard to maintain 
inhumane desires of ego, which can cripple 

and maim your hope and happiness... gotta let go 
to reverse negative stream of consciousness flow. 

Wednesday, December 20

SONG OF THE DAY: On A Sunday Afternoon (kudzu'd)

Looks like I've established the self-rule that I write freestyle sonnets when I post kudzu'd songs. But don't let that cause you to miss the fact this is one of the most bangingest bangers to ever bang, and it's even better slowed.

Though I'm not guaranteed, there's always tomorrow 
for the whole world. But should I not be blessed enough 
to make the next sunrise, I hope there's less sorrow 
than celebration of full me, stripped down to buff 

essence. My presence has always been blemished, but 
never made claims otherwise, keeping it simple 
to the edge of stupid (because I know how). What 
point is existing if I can't flash a dimple 

and chip-toothed smile, freestyling my way through Sunday 
afternoons and Thursday mornings alike, striving 
to find joy while surviving the doom others lay 
out like psychic land mines? Somehow, I'm still driving 

this ragged body while drunk off the Universe, 
leaning into each day's blessing, without a curse.

Thursday, December 14

SONG OF THE DAY: Computer Love (kudzu'd)

Another freestyle sonnet, written between zoom meetings this morning, connecting to the last one and (seemingly) the next one.

Lessons to recognize Universe is sublime, 
handing out blessings daily despite the crazy 
ways many minds spin. Lessons of kudzu, to climb 
towards sunshine, even when the skies are hazy 

from smoke screens; you innately know things that are true 
far beyond the red, white, and blue. Lessons from creek 
to keep internal trickle flowing, even through 
difficult obstacles, since we always must seek 

reunification with original source. 
Lessons from mycelium, keep it connected 
with whole community; this digital discourse 
designed to divide, and have data collected 

ain't respectful of essence from which we borrow; 
though I'm not guaranteed, there's always tomorrow.

Monday, December 11

SONG OF THE DAY: San Juan '82 (kudzu'd)

Writing these freestyle sonnets every time I have a kudzu'd track to post. And while I don't love this sonnet my mind just spat out at me, I don't hate it either. And fits the puzzle of the other sonnets. Freestyle practice means you just do it and let it go, don't get too caught up in perfection, because at our root is imperfection.

Fargo strutting forward - from what's passed, we borrow 
lessons learned, sometimes burned into memory banks 
from the fire of trial and error. Tomorrow 
ain't realized without scarring; still giving up thanks 

for the time and space I'm blessed to be impressed by. 
Each day is a chance to enjoy fresh creation, 
practicing release of stress and tension as I 
let the Universe divine my navigation 

of this manmade labyrinth designed to confine, 
even though heart and mind contain innate desire 
to find place to flourish, let water and sunshine 
nourish our existence so that soul can aspire 

higher than superficial plain which egos climb - 
lessons to recognize Universe is sublime. 

Thursday, December 7

SONG OF THE DAY: Katy Hill Instrumental

I think a lot about how much cultural history was lost by white people who got swallowed up by American concepts of whiteness. Whiteness pretty much just depends on wealth and you can buy up whatever identity you want as it becomes cool, like a capitalist version of colonialism really. But all of us, even “white” people, originally came from some tiny corners of the Earth, and had an indigenous tradition of some sort, somewhere. And I don’t say that as an excuse for white people so much as because lolol a lot of white people should not feel so inclined to call themselves white people. Fuck whiteness, to be honest, as it seems to be the bland absence of culture, and even has bleached it out of people who are considered white.
I also think a lot about how there’s deeper genetics involved in addictions and inherited traumas. Look at how North America’s indigenous population was so susceptible to both diseases given to them as well as alcoholism later on. And as I’ve seen some recent struggles in my own family, where my entire immediate family unit of 5 people all have suffered with addiction and alcoholism deeply, it’s strange to me how some families seem so much more susceptible to that than others. I’ve known folks that can abuse all sorts of drugs, shit way harder than I could ever handle, and it never seems to cause them to go off the rails. But I know my people are highly susceptible to that, and won’t casually survive those dabbles with self-destruction. And it becomes a chicken and egg thing where bloodlines like that suffer more traumas so the susceptibility becomes compounded. I don’t know. There’s got to be a deeper science to it all than we really know, and likely science doesn’t give a fuck to know the real answer because western society at its heart is judgmental as fuck, and wants to paint people who fail as inherent failures who couldn’t excel. If it was scientific why some of us fuck up and fail rather than an entirely free will exploration of existence, then that undermines the foundation of how western culture is this alleged closer step towards the perfect social system construct.
This all relates to bluegrass music because it is pretty obvious that it takes the exact same type of broken mind to play amazing bluegrass music as it does to think methamphetamines are great. These are both white trash qualities that blemish western culture’s hopes for utopian whiteness. Some of us are just too fucked up to be accepted, and we play music too fast and love drugs that make our brain spin on fast cycle. And I’m almost certain there’s got to be some sort of science underneath it all, but the only people who can afford to support that type of research would rather all the rest of us just keep looking like pieces of shit.

Wednesday, December 6

SONG OF THE DAY: Cable Access Funk

Do you know about the slinky synth funk movement of XL Middleton? If you don’t, you should. It’s that inspirational type of funk that makes you feel better about existing, regardless of how fucked up the world might feel.

Tuesday, December 5

SONG OF THE DAY: Electric Kingdom (kudzu'd)

Keeping the heroic crown vibes going for now...

Can't be bothered to be stopped by concepts of time; 
mechanizing man's mind ain't changed my incline to 
resist. Subsisting off cyborg cookies and chime 
of the algorithm, but mysticism grew 

still. Digital devils never could comprehend 
how when they hit send on end times, loungers appear 
and envision gothicc futures which shall extend 
the days like ellipsis. Gaze boldly at unclear 

horizon, devising margins to thrive within. 
Demons drive hard bargains, but broke folks find good deals 
in what mystery reveals... so let us begin 
to imagine our future with hope, as appeals 

to appease our ancestors' quest for tomorrow', 
Fargo strutting forward, from what's passed we borrow. 

Friday, December 1

SONG OF THE DAY: Rock With You (kudzu'd)

I haven't wrote any freestyle sonnets lately, much less wove a stack of them into a heroic crown of sonnets... so I guess that's what I'm doing now.

Planet rock mentality born from outer space 
dust, encrusted into bedazzled human booming 
from birth across surface of Earth. Twice dimpled face 
full of simple grace grew without proper grooming... 

That wild back road blackberry bush beard that's bearing 
fruit a bit looney, howling at full moons up high 
while scowling at authority down low. Hearing 
what I want, and always nearing the edge as I 

flat foot like a fool staring up at the sky, eye's 
big and truthful. But now that the beard's long gone grey 
and not youthful, it takes a slow minute to rise. 
Though energy wanes, my spirit waxes its way 

into prime squared since I'm already past my prime; 
can't be bothered to be stopped by concepts of time.