SONG OF THE DAY: Low Down (chopped & kudzu'd)

Had a bad day or two here where there was some anger and pain from the past that I didn’t realize was still there, which got unexpectedly dredged up by a simple interaction with someone else showing their thoughtlessness about anyone but themselves, while also assuming the role of eternal victim. It becomes hard to give a fuck about yourself to step up in those moments, because you’re already positioned as the person taking advantage. Anyways, I can recognize that shit quicker now though, and don’t get lost in depressive episodes like I used to, and don’t run head first into walls as a self-destructive act of knocking the pain away either. Hard as fuck to learn and practice new habits, especially when people take advantage of your weakness and kindness. But fuck it, ain’t nobody gonna do it but you. Fuck the haters, especially those that portray themselves as lovers. Those are the worst kind of haters – secret double reverse psychology snake haters, wrapped up in self-centered good vibes.

D3PVT1Z3D C0PP3RH34DS LVRK...

deputized copperheads lurk

in every corner of

militarized nation-state

SONG OF THE DAY: All Ready To Go

Really feeling Iron Jaw on this one. I keep a shoe-free household as much as possible, so we got a shelf at the door to put them bamas there. Feeling shook today about my location and position in life, and see them scuffed and dented steel toe Timbs there, and contemplate the disappearance. But also, ain’t nobody in my house but myself (and my kids half the time), nobody to escape from, building sanctuary slowly but surely, so it ain’t like ol’ Iron Jaw’s situation necessarily. Always trying to remember to ask myself am I removing myself from a bad situation, or running from handling shit? People can’t handle the hard work of being alive, so plenty of folks just run from handling hard shit, doing the hard work to fix the fucked up shit that life has dealt them. And sometime (a lot of times) ain’t no fixing it, but you still gotta put in the work to make it tolerable or better. And then again, sometimes it’s fucked, so you slip on your boots, pack a bag, and be gone. I hope if your life is fucked though, you’re making some sick art to help heal you through the moments, so long as it heals and not heels. Never heel to no shitty ass person making your life miserable.

4LL F0CVS P01NT3D F0RW4RDS...

all focus pointed forwards,

hoping to avoid snake ass

state troops while creeping through town

D0N'T TR34D 0N M3 R4TTL3SN4K3S...

don't tread on me rattlesnakes

slithering through faux country

suburbs in big shiny trucks

biznessmen unable to

focus sharp profit off of

nature become dark-hearted

freestyle sonnet #069: READING ABOUT MERTHYR UPRISING 1831

(more info on Merthyr Rising)

Tidal wave of corruption hits with sudden thrust,
on that In God We Trust dolla dolla self-just
-ification tip - the apple pie's upper crust

plus-one percenting themselves (yet again), feigning
Christian foundation same time hard times is raining
on all us... "You don't understand" white mansplaining

the situation. But check it out - Blood or Bread,
it's that fuckin' simple; build your temples to dead
presidents, live off inherited wealth, but red

flags will fly once your corrupt wave recedes. No man
is immune to re(sistant)action. Factions can
penetrate any nation-state, fracturing plan

of "master" minds, so be aware people conspire

to correct monumental thrusts with human fire.

TOP TEN FRESH CONSTITUTION FONTS

GOTHiC FUTURiST
GHOSTPiPE TECHNOLOGiES GROWN
BEYOND CULTURED STATE#haiku#rojonekku pic.twitter.com/q0b2JEa6fe

— Tha Dirt-God (@rojonekku) September 1, 2016

TiMES NEW ROMAN LAWS
STiFLE RAW DEVELOPMENT
OF DiRTGOD THEORiES#haiku#rojonekku pic.twitter.com/KLmFsWn1h3

— Tha Dirt-God (@rojonekku) September 1, 2016

COMiC SANS LiViNG
WiLL ESTATE CONSTiTUTiON
DENYiNG WiLD STYLE#haiku#rojonekku pic.twitter.com/GXBLkxxbfz

— Tha Dirt-God (@rojonekku) September 1, 2016

MUNDANE ARiAL
ViEWS SELF-iMPORTED BOLDLY
PRETENDiNG TO CHiLL#haiku#rojonekku pic.twitter.com/gorYSukVFX

— Tha Dirt-God (@rojonekku) September 1, 2016

COURiER THROWBACKS
CREATE TiCKER TAPE FACADE
- THAT WORLD DONE BEEN DEAD#haiku#rojonekku pic.twitter.com/Z9SqtPOq04

— Tha Dirt-God (@rojonekku) September 1, 2016

SUM'S HELVETiCA
ELiTiSM MANiFESTS
PROGRESSiVE NUMBERS#haiku#rojonekku pic.twitter.com/TVamZkkBEG

— Tha Dirt-God (@rojonekku) September 1, 2016

BiNARY CODiNG
ZEROES iN ON ONE OPEN
SOURCE *SHARED* CONSCiOUSNESS#haiku#rojonekku pic.twitter.com/3vqejSemF6

— Tha Dirt-God (@rojonekku) September 1, 2016

HANDWRiTTEN SCRiBBLE
ASTRO LOGiC DECiPHERED
BY SNAKE-SOULED EXPERTS#haiku#rojonekku pic.twitter.com/EabkntBusz

— Tha Dirt-God (@rojonekku) September 1, 2016

FUTURA TYPE FACE
SPEAKiNG 'BOUT BACKWARDS THiNKiNG
*NEW* REALiTiES#haiku#rojonekku pic.twitter.com/QuVewuqBla

— Tha Dirt-God (@rojonekku) September 1, 2016

RiPPLES & FRACTALS
*MiNE* NETWORKS DiSCONNECTED
FROM NATURAL TRUTHS#haiku#rojonekku pic.twitter.com/wYnZJ8Y5mW

— Tha Dirt-God (@rojonekku) September 1, 2016

#1: GOTHiC FUTURiST/GHOSTPiPE TECHNOLOGiES GROWN/BEYOND CULTURED STATE

#2: TiMES NEW ROMAN LAWS/STiFLE RAW DEVELOPMENT/OF DiRTGOD THEORiES

#3: COMiC SANS LiViNG/WiLL ESTATE CONSTiTUTiON/DENYiNG WiLD STYLE

#4: MUNDANE ARiAL/ViEWS SELF-iMPORTED BOLDLY/PRETENDiNG TO CHiLL

#5: COURiER THROWBACKS/CREATE TiCKER TAPE FACADE/- THAT WORLD DONE BEEN DEAD

#6: SUM'S HELVETiCA/ELiTiSM MANiFESTS/PROGRESSiVE NUMBERS

#7: BiNARY CODiNG/ZEROES iN ON ONE OPEN/SOURCE *SHARED* CONSCiOUSNESS

#8: HANDWRiTTEN SCRiBBLE/ASTRO LOGiC DECiPHERED/BY SNAKE-SOULED EXPERTS

#9: FUTURA TYPE FACE/SPEAKiNG 'BOUT BACKWARDS THiNKiNG/*NEW* REALiTiES

#10: RiPPLES & FRACTALS/*MiNE* NETWORKS DiSCONNECTED/FROM NATURAL TRUTHS

45s on 33 – #77: “Rattlesnake!”

These dudes stood over top of me, repeating their black-red dark prayer, over and over, and I started to realize the main guy’s vague resemblance to the future me, thus an even vaguer resemblance to myself. “Take it off him and put it on me, the master of all creation.”

The refusal to allow body natural fetal reaction to this amplified anxiety attack against innate character had caused my heart to turn into a stone fist. The next step was I could feel the rattlesnake blood begin coursing through my body, like a shot of morphine starting at the chest cavity, except no dopamine opioid effects – just straight cold chill of snake blood beginning its infiltration of physical existence.

I do not mean to disparage nature snakes with the rattlesnake metaphor. Nature snakes, though freakily alien to us hominids, are not inherently bad. But when it is applied to snake humans, where the worst of both species somehow transmogrifies into horrible aberrations of inhumane (and unsnake) behavior, it seems to be inherently bad (if good and bad morality actually exists, which is also questionable, to be scientifically honest).

I could feel the snake blood mixing with my born fire blood, and wondered if this was an equivalent to the congealing of spirit that Ellabell had spoken of earlier. There was no time to analyze it too deeply though, as the cold reptilian invasion coursed sneakily up and down my spine. The entire time I attempted to struggle free, but the hands holding me in place against the stone table were unrelenting. All I could feel with all my five known and two or three unconfirmed senses was uncaring coldness, of the great stone slab and the strong ignorant grips, but worst of all that cold, creepy rattlesnake blood inside my own body.

My only hope was my beard, those hairy tendrils of supernatural wisdom, but no sooner had I thought this than the changing men, these assassins masked in black-red darkness, took a blade to my beard, and hacked it off into an untidy clump. Years of acquired existential thought gone in one disgusting stab.

Instead of thinking externally, I kept it internal, shielded from the outside world, and I remembered young naïve country Raven, he of the rebel flag t-shirts and broken bones and barely unbroken home. Not sure why I thought of that other than associating these men with that rebel flag, and still being shook by their open use of [n-word], and being retrospectively shook by the casual nature of that flag in my youth, and how the meaning had been charged so differently in the past decade.

The snake blood was starting to meander into my appendages – arm, leg, leg, arm, and head beginning to feel surges of cold, surges of no longer caring (far different than not giving a fuck, in fact the moral opposite, again, if morality actually exists), and I thought back to that young Raven.

Or perhaps I was not thinking of him but he was there… it is hard to be sure what is reality and what is not in those time tunnels. But in terms of reality, I had a strong realization of why that young Raven appeared, and the purpose he brought. So I focused all my thought like laser beams, internally never externally, so that these men couldn’t hijack my actions with their own cognizance of my intentions, and realized hair was my only hope, specifically the rattail young Raven wore.

Through power of thought, I shot memories into hair at the back of my head, growing a rattail out my crown at exponential rate, yet impervious in the black-red darkness to these demon humanoids. Hair is grown from accumulation of experiences, which is why learned elders of any species always have long greying hair, which is why my beard was such an affront to these men. But it was not that great a logical trick to instead grow this rattail from memories of experiences. The rattail trailed off the edge of the stone table, and grew downward like a vine to the floor of the tunnel, where it touched raw earth, true dirt still warmed by the heat of the inner-core of Earth. That warmth was literally grounding.

That Earth fire came up through the rattail, dirtgod blessings, and entered my individual physical biosphere, and I could feel the cold blood stop spreading, beginning at my head, then my arms and legs from furthest point out inward, and finally there at my torso. The leader of these men was chanting louder, more frantically, “Take it off of him!” but I could hear fear in his voice now. My body started to burn with the fever of organic being fighting off outside infection, and their grips started to slip. My life, as I knew it, was being saved by natural rattail. Snake blood invasion was being fought off.

TOP TEN OBSERVATIONS IN WOODS UNDERNEATH CROW SHADOWS

where I live (house) feels
stifling so I disappear
into the open#haiku #rojonekkuhttps://t.co/cygeKMtUta pic.twitter.com/trnshogqn0

— Tha Dirt-God (@rojonekku) June 20, 2016

studying mushroom
technologies & crow call
linguistic patterns#haiku #rojonekkuhttps://t.co/Qh6xShmyCs pic.twitter.com/EO3jwFmhZP

— Tha Dirt-God (@rojonekku) June 20, 2016

I scatter like seed
cheap Chinese golden Buddhas
- protects from desires#haiku #rojonekkuhttps://t.co/cygeKMtUta pic.twitter.com/TdlOA6DkSY

— Tha Dirt-God (@rojonekku) June 20, 2016

"chop senseless cravings"
meditations remind me
solitude my sword#haiku #rojonekkuhttps://t.co/Qh6xShmyCs pic.twitter.com/IJKdF12QqN

— Tha Dirt-God (@rojonekku) June 20, 2016

4-wheel-drive pick-up
roars in distance - always man
making always noise#haiku #rojonekkuhttps://t.co/cygeKMtUta pic.twitter.com/fBDvPlxuht

— Tha Dirt-God (@rojonekku) June 20, 2016

walking barefoot to
minimize my own sounds, though
snakes do be lurking#haiku #rojonekkuhttps://t.co/Qh6xShmyCs pic.twitter.com/6tJcCYeeaB

— Tha Dirt-God (@rojonekku) June 20, 2016

nature snakes okay
but man snakes (pigs) have been seen
stalking weed acres#haiku #rojonekku pic.twitter.com/Bj1Jvb3imv

— Tha Dirt-God (@rojonekku) June 20, 2016

I sensed their presence
but needed confirmation
to trust my knowing#haiku #rojonekkuhttps://t.co/cygeKMtUta pic.twitter.com/3RZIO4ltOR

— Tha Dirt-God (@rojonekku) June 20, 2016

where I live (country)
feels stifling; I disappear
into the shadows#haiku #rojonekkuhttps://t.co/Qh6xShmyCs pic.twitter.com/gZ1qDKyGa7

— Tha Dirt-God (@rojonekku) June 20, 2016

even in shadows
organized devils try to
apply their gridlock#haiku #rojonekkuhttps://t.co/cygeKMtUta pic.twitter.com/uZhuG2hwLQ

— Tha Dirt-God (@rojonekku) June 20, 2016

#1: where I live (house) feels/stifling so I disappear/into the open

#2: studying mushroom/technologies & crow call/linguistic patterns

#3: I scatter like seed/cheap Chinese golden Buddhas/- protects from desires

#4: "chop senseless cravings"/meditations remind me/solitude my sword

#5: 4-wheel-drive pick-up/roars in distance - always man/making always noise

#6: walking barefoot to/minimize my own sounds, though/snakes do be lurking

#7: nature snakes okay/but man snakes (pigs) have been seen/stalking weed acres

#8: I sensed their presence/but needed confirmation/to trust my knowing

#9: where I live (country)/feels stifling; I disappear/into the shadows

#10: even in shadows/organized devils try to/apply their gridlock

TOP TEN TRANSFORMATIONS INTO SNAKE TECHNOLOGIES

#1: never no strangeness/just straight struggling with crooked/world’s crooked ass ways
#2: haunted by failed dreams/never restful sleep tossing/& turning ‘til dead
#3: “sleep is the cousin/of death” said Nastradamus/thru rap prophecies
#4: stream of (un)conscious/churns out freestyle sonnetry/anonymity
#5: obscure lives losing/power infiltrated by/small predator drones
#6: imagine 3rd eye/is real where is it pointed/RIGHT THE FUCK NOW YO
#7: small invisible/predator drone buzzbots snake/thru 3rd eye entry
#8: snake philosophies/polluting neural pathways/sneak down spine to heart
#9: anti-biotic/pro-robotic gut bombs make/for snake intestines
#10: eventually/slithering thru life wishing/for legs to still stand

TOP TEN PLACES TO PANHANDLE ALONG 29 IN CHARLOTTESVILLE

#1: abandoned building/burning white pine pallet scraps/warmth against the wind
#2: we stashed machetes/near entrance in case police/try to regulate
#3: Juney’s been stealing/tarps from the big box hardware/store across highway
#4: they don’t do much good/in winter but when spring breaks/the riverside calls
#5: down in abandoned/woods nobody gives a fuck/they let us alone
#6: but bitter Blue Ridge/cold ain’t no time for wading/waiting on sunshine
#7: claiming veteran/on my cardboard but I ain’t/served nothing but shit
#8: been occupying/busy ass median strip/by the new whole foods
#9: they either avert/guilty eyes or break down while/idling at stoplight
#10: car exhaust smells like/five-dollar bills to me now/wine to build gut fire

TOP TEN INSTANCES OF RAPPERS MENTIONING BLACK CATS AS CULTURAL SIGNIFIER OF RACISM

#1: infinite theory/answering query, leery/with human eyeball
#2: reading poetry/that doesn't "exist" inside/my cavernous heart
#3: the mind's a flashlight/scanning through dark heart, searching/for creative runes
#4: fuck mind, fuck mined, fuck/mine, anything inside heart/is universal
#5: raw universal/electromagnetics ebb/& flow of spirit
#6: white rocks my black elk/wichasa wakhan, which is/healing feral stones
#7: realtalk: our black cat/called Lounger caught this black snake/whom I freed for life
#8: snake was curled in death/but back at woods, uncurled, flicked/snake tongue, then eased off
#9: directly beneath/where I'd put this snake down in/woods was white quartz piece
#10: I carry it with me/now, universe medicine/black cat black snake style

found a folder of pics from internet I forgot existed so here is that stuff

c o p a g

o' majestic freaky snake -
what terrible freaky deeds were done
to condemn you to slither

c o p a e

snakeskin textures dangling from
a deadwood pedestal - the
silly man stands there, gawking

c o p a h

lotta snakes lurking inside
the tall grasses of my life;
I hold dull, cynical axe

t r l r c

can't believe in god right now;
I've handled too many snakes,
been bitten, felt the poison

J.J. Krupert Top 13 Countdown - February '11 #9: "A Poor Wayfaring Stranger" by Cliff Gober

Every time this song comes on, I think The Wire is about to start. I am surprised no one has done a hodgepodge Greatest TV Show Evar bullshit show with like Swearingen from Deadwood, Omar Little from The Wire, and Paulie Walnuts all living in the same hotel, probably in that place in California that was gonna be a vacation retreat, but then the lake went salty and everybody died and now nobody lives there but crazy old redneck people, that guy that is painting Jesus messages on the mountain with donated paint, and kitschy gay dudes in relationships who got sick of L.A.'s bullshit, but loved southern California.
I never understand why Jesus is so boring to so many people. I would guess like 3/4 of the people inside the stupid facebooks from my high school eventually post things about how Jesus did this or that and is coming over for dinner on Tuesday night and can heal three-legged kittens and shit like that. It's fucking boring. I want god to be funky, and crazy, and make people wander the desert and paint a mountain with cryptic messages. In my trying times of 2011, I was trying to find me some Jesus, by going into this abandoned school in Buckingham County, and I would take Sharpies with me, and I just went in the far back room and started writing cryptic semi-Biblical sounding things across the wall in roughly 48 pt. font, seeing if I could find my way. I couldn't though; it didn't flow. I think Christian God is in need of some crazy, except any time somebody with the Holy Ghost Spirit rolls onto the scene, they are demonized as fakes and frauds by the establishment churches. I imagine if I lived closer to them, I'd probably check out one of those snake handling spots, because they seem to jibe with me more. As it stands, in that abandoned school, all I ended up doing was freestyle writing in Sharpie about seven made up Penthouse Forum letters that filled up two and a half of the four walls in that far room, from about six feet high to about two feet above the floor, as I didn't want to lay down to write. That place is dirty. I guess the fact I was trying to write some God shit and ended up just writing sexual fantasies in semi-cholo, semi-NYC 1978 script is because the devil still done got hold of me. Not sure I really want to shake it either. I'm a much better person when it comes to doing undoable things compared to the past, but still, sitting around and singing slow songs with a bunch of people stuffed into uncomfortable clothes... doesn't seem very spiritual to me. Maybe I should start a tantric sex cult.
By the way, this song is fucking awesome, whether you get down with god or not. It's very 7th level of music nerd internet whiteboy to say such a thing about black gospel music, but fuck it, I'm all in here at this point. I've got like 1300 posts and 16 followers. It's obvious I should've gave up by now, but I can't for some reason. So maybe I do already believe in Jesus and just didn't know it.
STEAL "A Poor Wayfaring Stranger"
NEXT: a Grateful Dead song sneaks in!

Friday Love/Hate

I hate having been busted up the past couple weeks. I do not do well with idle time and being a street person, need to walk amongst street peoples to feel at ease within my own soul. My soul has been very congested, and I do not know if it is how off-kilter my skeletal shape has become in the past year, or if it is the muscle relaxers, but really I have not been in a positive mode to where I want to enjoy myself. I think a big part of it is I’ve probably watched more TV in the past two weeks than I have in the past two years, and that can be very mind-crushing. I’ve been trying to mix in some short stories from alleged masters as part of a future project on this blog, and to get me rolling on a short fiction collection I’ve been outlining (which for me means jotting things down on notecards, which get held together by rubber bands or hair ties, and shuffled and reordered and marked up or crossed out or flipped over and reused… my method for outlining really anything more than stream of conscious that I write is kind of like what they taught you to do for taking research paper notes in public schools in 1988, but all zipped out on ritalin). I hate that I’ve had two weeks out of work but have not cranked out a novel, even though I could not find a comfortable way to sit upright and type until like this past Monday, and my laptop battery has been burning my pajama-concealed dick. I hear that makes you sterile, which is fine by me because even with insurance I can’t afford a vasectomy.

I love the fact there are wild mutant boars and wolves roaming the Ukrainian countryside in the blocked zone from the Chernobyl accident. They’re apparently gonna let tourists start seeing the city of Chernobyl now, which is crazy because in certain parts the radioactivity level is still insane, and the sarcophagus they encased the cracked reactor inside of is apparently predicted to fall apart as well. There are also giant dead zones in neighboring Belarus, who bore the wind-blown effects of the radiation pretty heavily, and there’s abandoned cities and villages all throughout that area. And really that’s the ultimate effect of a so-called dirty bomb – not the immediate death, because if you set off a dirty bomb in Manhattan, it would only kill maybe a couple thousand people immediately, if you were lucky. But the entire area for like thirty miles radius would be contaminated, and you couldn’t clean it up. The radiation would have to be allowed to decay at it’s normal half-life, which means basically New York City would be rendered uninhabitable. Of course, if you vacated it completely, you’d still have people moving back – the homeless and elderly and vagrants – who would occupy this dead zone in cancerous states of communal anarchy. But the mutant boars and wolves of the Chernobyl region are very intriguing to me, because I remember the post-Chernobyl pics in Time magazine of pigs without eyes or horses with five legs and shit (seriously), and you have to figure a species that is now running wild in this location, including the dead woods where men are not allowed to go because five minutes inside would cause you to glow in the dark that evening (again, seriously), they’ve had twenty years to genetically adjust themselves. Not to mention with no men around to prey upon them or run them off, they lack the natural fear response most animals feel towards the presence of man. I kinda hope rather than dirty bombs, there are like some next level anarcho-eco-terrorists who want to unleash a pack of nuclear wolves on downtown Berlin or mutant boars into the middle of like Detroit or Cleveland. Terrorist are so fucking boring, probably because so many of them are fundamentalists. Fundamentalists are always boring as fuck, unless they are snake handlers. I ain’t much of a church-goer, but if I do feel compelled, you best believe I make the drive over to the Church of Lord Jesus with Signs Following over in Victoria, not too far from where my dad lived before he passed.