The ongoing story of Jesus waking up in Chicago, in the body of an agnostic writer,
who is nothing like the Son of God the right-wing Christians watching him expected.

You are welcome to share my work with a link bank... keep getting asked this...

Last time I was here, I told them I would not lead a revolution, that I was there to spread heresy. The crowds thinned. The day they killed me, I marched alone... This time I have returned to find Romes Soldiers Sleeping, content they have killed off the Troublesome Jew. I was surprised how bloody the Indiana boy became as my sword fell again and again ....

In the years since this story began in 2007, my secret fame has spread out from the halls of power that kept me secret all these years, as they waited for the Christ to finally wake up...

I try to imagine their anticipation.

Remember a dream I had in my twenties about running thru Chicago screaming that Christ was coming back, and man oh man was I happy... a cloud came through the middle of the skyscrapers above me, in the thin strip of blue above Dowtown State street, and I expected to see Christ... instead, just a bunch of musicians painted up like Ziggy stardust.

I surprised my keepers. They thought they had me figured out from the Bible. If that book could have told you everything, there would be no need at all for me.

Jesus: "I have become Known across this planet as a dangerous man with a growing force of hidden followers who value my orders more than life itself. A prophet of war. Once and future King in a court of shadows. Life and death in my hands every damn day. I ROAR, your most mighty shit themselves and run. I make myself a known threat, so I can try to negotiate what otherwise requires bullets and blood. I am here to free the enslaved in body and mind. I cannot be defeated. When the Will of God and The WILL OF THE PEOPLE ARE ONE, NO FORCE ON EARTH CAN STOP US!"


We come into this life expecting too much and leave expecting too little

Saturday, April 05, 2008

after all the years of freaking out about being didactic

after all the years of freaking out about being didactic

can't be another hitler
in those dark shades
that bleed away all the color
reduce these visions to black and white

I post-modern man all wary
staying away from drawing lines in the sand
or declaring anything permanent
for any length of time

to be a judge
in a court
of impossible standards

I oblivous stoic going thru my mundane day
MONKED AWAY from the masses
telling no one what I do
learning to listen
fishing for words
unknowingly illumating pages of my most sacred text

winning a little
some days

in the bitter bloody war with ennui

no longer suspecting
there is more than is dreamt of in our philosophy

i am walking quietly along the waterline at the beach
behind out of nowhere
where there is no one


i can do
accept the swoon


i just seem to know
without dying

the creature stands in the center
of an awesome crash
of lightening bolts
zig-zagging crazily down
out of the blue sky
the beach and exploding

inside the firestorm OF STRIKES

I sense a master traveler

looking out at me


a horrifying creature

the rough beast's*
time has come round
at last at last
there was no slouch
this creature stood tall and proud

my body became as dead to those around me
my thoughts blown wondrously throughout time and space

My name disappears from my head

I sense
the creature
does this
to tell me
it too
is seeking a name

i sensed
i would
have died
had it wanted

from then on my Pain seemed carefully measured
as if the creature
were only hurting me enough to drive me
mad enough
for the undreamt mission

gone baby gone for days
lost from body and soul
a corpse never so alive
they great they called THE COSMIC STING a seizure

keep me strapped down and drugged out

takes days and days to fully identify the obviously fictional
in my charged and cautious and exuberant
dream of dreaming

crawling back up into myself
I find I am filled with sensations of the sacred
dreaming of cosmic order

I worry my cravings for peace
are the residuals of a bout with mad
something the new med.'s
will push out of my head in a few weeks

maybe some mentat* chain will break and I'll write
my happy sappy
got over the depression
post-treatment tract

fret what if I am going to crash
and wake up baffled
by how I was ever
stupid and deluded enough
to put my faith
back in this system

is the last thing we expect
to find in a voting booth
we've been burned before
we're all scarred up
shot up and jailed and abused and wasted
and you name it baby

I sense
inside us
a mighty roar
that will make them shit themselves and run

call me crazy whatever

I have been preparing

for this moment

all of my life*

yr words
will never hurt me again

I'm ready
to fight you

stick for stick
stone for stone



with a kiss
on the cheek

and a

welcome to the show

*phil collins

*again, the sacred Dune, which I read over and over, all of them... though I have never had the time or scratch to buy the latest ones... sadly enough.

* this has to be the most quoted poem in the world. I love this poet, and he was out there. I named my dear now lost kitty bums Mr. Yeats after him. I want the time to read his elaborate theory of the universe, which Dr. Lindsay, the class clown extrodainaire/the liberal sceptic saintished one/ somewhat awe inspiringly told the class, "Well if you read it, it does seem to make sense." He seemed startled by his own words and moved on quickly.

Mostly He was so funny. I have notes. At UT I learned that no matter where a good student is, they will learn and the teachers will appear. Dr. lindsay liked to make it out like he lived in mortal fear of actually once and for all boring a student to death. Ho. English prof.'s... my dog, what better buds!!!

All writings by John Scott Ridgway are protected by the law... but I encourage you to spread my poems by whatever means necessary. One day you will understand.

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