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 12, 2008

in dreams

12:03 AM

i am a child dreaming nightly of flight
my still body in a bed in indiana the illusion
awake puzzled I could not fly
another moment that makes sense
now that I know
I started growing wings once
before they great they cut off my dreamed real vestiges of flight
shoved me into the underground
and took up silent sentinels in your mind
to keep
me away

I am a child dreaming of falling
night after night
I am standing on a cliff wall surrounded by my tribe
we will not surrender to slavery
a horrible leap air rushing past as the ground approaches
they know I will fly off

the enemies troops watch astounded
as the winged one soars off into a blue sky

I am a child dreaming of running from a t-rex
round and round a rectangular hallway
I finally jump into a closet
heart pounding a prayer the creature will not stop and look
the door begins to open and I see the face of my attacker
know I am trapped
my fatal mistake stopping my run

awake with the quickened heart of the dreamed one
as always snatched a split second from death

I am a young man dreaming
running through the concrete canyon of downtown chicago
screaming up at the skyscrapers
dizzyingly reaching up into the infinite sky

never known such euphoria in waking

I met my then wife who was in the dream my ex
in a cathedral by the altar
her clothes disappear and she rises up in the air
comes to rest on my hard sex
I tell her that all of the years and women in between us
are meaningless now
that in heaven we have as many lovers as we want

a cloud appears in the sky between the columns of buildings
comes slowly down to earth
I expect to see the longed for face from my childhood church

there is a multi-colored band
a psychedelic purple skin
yellow haired musician
stares obliviously into his screaming guitar

The Promised One isn't there
I awakened puzzled
a married man with a house and 2 cars
quick to shake off my dreams
with a psycho-pop induced
shrug at the seemingly indecipherible

I am a man trapped in a nightmare without end
45 and wide, wide, wide awake
displayed in a zoo as Johnny The Ape
told that they have mistaken me for a murderer
a peace loving man who merely isn't afraid to fight
a mockery of a trial of the local mafia
hints of greater conspiracy
secret deals beyond the law
quid pro quo

they hint of nazi's who feel misunderstood and abused
their eutopian dreams of romantic wars
hijacked by the dark lust of the Holacost
damned by the same powers of propoganda
they perfected with sociopathic precision
I surprise them by forgiving the worst first
tell myself soldiers who sign a peace treaty
deserve a chance to go home
to try and live lives slow and steady enough to love again

I am a man who has been told he is the king of kings
acknowledged by popes and presidents
hobo's and hellions
a leader of billions and billions

a secret man best spoken of in calm whispers
He Who Inflames
The creator now created
The Chessmaster who awakens to being a pawn
on someone elses board

Now The Dreams Are More Real Than The Waking
hanging in space
a great oval of warm brown crackling with arches of lightening
surrounded by circles of mute earth tones

bewildered as I seek my mind for examples
of people seeing the face of God
"This isn't supposed to happen,"

Stagger into the living room
and tell the listening world,
"I have seen the face of God."

everything changes with the new dreams
they offer me clues to myself
from my battle headquarters on the other side
I go bouncing back and forth
from accepting this Christ
to telling myself I am deluded
to just plain stunned that God Exists

I see my words are effecting the news
my presence so rattles the president
that he shifts to the left
fires the jackel pack of neocons
who have been telling him
he is their savior
ever since they realized they could use his religion
to advance the scheme of the ages

They Set Up The Prophesied End
sent the jews home to israel
prepared for the return of wonder
watched as the prophecy began to manifest
the promised fire of their bibles
raging out
across the globe

I called on all people
to rise up from their knees
and confront the stealth attack of the elitists

For too long we have suffered well
the slings and arrows of fate
without taking up arms
allowed the rapists and pillagers
to attack the edges of the realms of liberty

america enslaved herself
left Thomas Paine broke and drunk and dying alone
mourning the dreams he had lent
to slave holders and elitists and rail barons

I am a Christ trapped dreaming in the flesh of a man
see endless fire flowing out of my back
lightening from my chest
In the writing I have learned I am the gun
this dream explains their fear of me

The words come from a trance
I feel the savage grace flare up
my mind clicking into a higher plane
that makes my ennui-ridden ways seem selfish

The drugging started when they hired me into fearless radio
a man came up to me at the beach
said his dog's name was belladonna
added 'sometimes this is needed.'
I took from his words that others
have been treated to the drugged awakening

they hint to me that they are living in submarines
the artic
the heart of africa

are they angels?
the 72 that there are supposed to be . . .

I am surrounded by actors
their tales all changed
when they realized I would not go along
with their plans....

my life is a carefully controlled experiment
the way they raise angels and watch for demons

IN MY NAME... they have raged across this golden globe
I came with words
of a revolution based on the Ultimate Love
the savage screamed for the warriors
telling me the ancient ways of war
mocking my pacificism with genocide

We talk like lions
yet we sacrifice like lambs.

counting crows

I am told I am the bible from on high
a praxis into the future
I siphon off their religions
fill up the tank of my Thunderbird
drive fast and hard past their protests
flying toward some home
I have never been to
a graceful place from a children's book
that seems less real with the false promise
of each rising sun

I spend the winter in pain well beyond my ability to bear
who's plan was it to crucify my body and mind?
To lynch scott ridgway
in the hope of resurrecting a christ?

The Most Extrodinary of events
misunderstood from the start

I do not hold myself above anyone
in my whiny way there is a why me to all of this?

"You came for me
to try and take me home."

Everybody Knows By Ryan Adams

I understand my place as a soldier in a heirarchy
an army of one

be just a few torches
be just a little light

Come to Chicago and stir your spirit..."
the town motto they instigated when this started
along with a torch symbol the olympic committee made them back off
now they have a rising star...

prayer is reintroduced into Illinois schools as the mystical becomes flesh
and even the cynics find in their hearts a sacred cathedral of sleeping children * don dellilo

an explosion that cannot be defused
sooner or later...
God will alight me
there will be no sanctuary on the last day

I would I had the magic wand that would spread peace
like a child's smile
excitement like a puppy playing
sex like newlyweds losing themselves
in god's gifts
i am flesh embedded in a plan
a puppet to the ultimate master
He gives no ground

I look back through the promises
scattered throughout my writing...
telling Bush there needed to be pardons all around
.... even as I thought of the war and knew more would die
no matter how many promises of heaven and threats of hell I spew
I think I believed that people in my campaign had been imprisioned
at the time I believed that kids and tv stars were dreaming along
had no idea who joined my campaign or why...
kept telling you not to make me into god
God himself would not listen to my entreaties

I came out of everywhere and nowhere
the nameless voice in the dark declaring a cryptic I AM
I saw myself picked up in a limo and whisked off into a monastary
my place in this world and what is known of me explained
... see the marches that will come & how hard to keep from trampling ourselves underfoot

everyone is so sure they should be at the front of the parade
controlling the rythmn and the music
the gesticulations of the dancers choreographed
by they great they's sorry view of themselves
I wanted long flowing wings and braided hair of gold
a rock star's reception under the spotlights
a comic's easy fellowship
a soldier's camraderie
the respect of a few of my peers
and the painful lessons of my critics

I would that the world were mine to bend to the will of man
as would you...
I too bow at his altar
a leaf on the breeze

I would that I could lead a peaceful revolution
History is a boat on a river of a blood

We fought to conquer the animals, each other
fought visions of Royal Rights
fought to free ourselves
to release liberty from her dank cell

graves of unknown soldiers line our paths

"in the center of the city in the night
waiting for you

I did everything... everything I wanted
I let them use you for their own ends."

the killers

They Great They keep me from getting emails, phone calls, etc...

one day I came into the radio station and found someone had broke into my blog

wrote an entry titled If U R DON U Go To Jail.

I wrote back that I am not a don.... never a don
I am a thesbi-pain, and something of a "preacher."

This person began leaving messages back and forth on my blog

They told me my mother is a tiger
hinting she is a communist spy... or a leftist...
I am not sure what they mean, who they are
or if they are telling the truth

By then I am too astounded that I exist to think about much else
the world is going thru weird convulsions over me and I have no way
of breaking out of the little illusion they have me living in...

I am still becoming aware of how the world is looking at my royalty
which I have always taken as an interesting joke and possible genetic reasons
for the traits of leadership, etc... nothing too meaningful at all
I never had no fantasies of being a king...
they always disgusted me
until I read into my family history and saw a lot of good people....

I write back that my mother is a lion
the writer insists, NO YOur mother is a tiger.

they were telling me... perhaps
that my mother is a communist spy under deep cover
or that the origins of my campaign are communist...
I take the literal stand then and now I don't know...
the label makes sense of her insane conversion to mediocrity
in mid-life when she gave up the union and went company
going from a president to the enemy...

I then assume when they tell me people are going to jail
that they are talking about her
a woman who has spent her life serving her fellow man...
They Learned Of My Wrath That night
saw the lightening come crashing down into the lake around me
suffered the floods and fires

I will fight for any parties right to assert their vision into this american dream

I respect communists for what they are trying to do
have no missionary zeal for pressing myself on anyone
obviously I think they should be able to be religious
though there are a lot of good reasons for being judicious
about which con men you let into your garden

I respect the athiests view for what they have rejected
not what they embrace
Nietsche will always have my love
His place is ripping down the rot of religions
allowing the flowering of the truths of the latest Spring

The Arthurian myth of Christ appealed to me the most
made sense in my heritage
I could remember being King Arthur
feel him think like him
his royal rages and the broken heart that made him whole

I began to think of myself as a hidden king
taken away from England when the Hapsburgs snagged the throne
other times it seemed like I was always in the shadows
A Royal Goodfellow feeding words to Shakespeare
at a time when being associated with the theatre
was too unseemly
would have lost me too much power
the power I needed to sheild the people charged to me
from the privations of the unfavored

(taken from a play on the corner that I took to be a hint...
sorry I did not know enough to go to bat for them
when they told me they were having trouble getting a permit;
I had it in my mind then that someone would just come talk to me
sooner or later
about why people were treating me like they are
I watch too many cops shows, believe the nightly news a bit too much
expected the world to hold few secrets from someone like me

I woke up hating crucifixes
...wanting every icon of that bloody day destroyed
...melted down and fed to the poor
...turned into aids medication
... spent educating

& loving everyone
even as I despised the unholy icons
they had turned themselves into

Why I wondered would God make me an agnostic
a youthful slut
a try sexual man
with a streak of monogamy
a writer without hope or wonder
a mopey man with a crippled back
barely noticed by his fellows
a liar taught by the best
with an addiction to excitement
and a death wish
espoused in violent, comic prose
irreverent and anti-religion?


I had only to look at
the last time I shrugged off the costume of flesh
and revealed the spirit who walks

The Romans crucified me while my people cheered
and my friends hid their faces

"When they come for you
Just one thing I ask of you
please forget you know my name."

The Grateful Dead

I have spread the infection of survaillance and torture
a lightening rod
for everything including the cloak of intelligence

How Could Christ Advocate War?

I remember then the vengence of god
is bloody and swift
the flesh a breif flash in immortality

I go over the stories I wrote before I woke up
searching for clues of what I seemed to know even then
the ignored mysteries of myself

remember how I feel like I am translating other voices
i wrote about being a judgement sent to earth
what at first seemed a self-fullfilling prophecy when I thought people were rallying
under my flag for a revivalist movement,
a revolution of the spirit
Strikes me now as the will of God

the weight of the world settling down on my shoulders

I have always dreamt of a rightous path through life
I was offered inadequate religions and duplicitous governments
that act like my intellectual enemy

there is much blood from my birth

a part of me knows how to be a brutal soldier
rose up in my psyche
a creature coaxed up by the fierce fighting
to free this planet from despots and false gods

I began to trust only the voice
during the worlds' worst convulsions
I sought consoul and none came
buried myself in my words
amazed by the inspiration

They thought I would come out to be welcomed
I wanted to...

Everyone in my life acted as if
nothing was happening
played me until I settled down into my alter ego

they gave me hints
then knew enough to hide their words
from the inevitable survaillance

I hoped by inviting the law into the party they would do some bouncing
I never feel like I have anything to hide besides weed... and that is absurd


the war wizened general tells his astounded officers
we keep no secrets
not even from the least of our enemies
we will need them in the end
to lead us from this forest of lies

I knew that they would sooner or later try to lie about everything that happened
and I wanted, at any cost, for there to be a true record of this christ
film that cannot be disputed and displayed to prop up empty preisthoods

I made sure that they would have to kill me to shut me up
then I proved to them
I am their LAST HOPE

I look at a lot of my words and they only make sense now

others come from some blind inspiration of the drugs and the power
and how fucking serious I take this life...
I do not know what to do with the contradictions in my tale

should I weave them into a narrative of speculation
add to the wall of lies we hide from ourselves behind
with my best guesses?

I have caste spells of war
since the innocent first required protection

the revolt truly happens in words
they create the future slow enough
to lessen the conflicts between generations
--the fires that ignite
when the ways that have worked work no more

12:07 AM

I awake every day in pain
stunned to be back in this dream
sometimes I think that I asked for everything that happened
whether I meant to or not
... then I remember how they turned me into a starved, pain crazed animal
as they did you and you and you

I blasted lightening into lake michigan
in front of the world

then I came home and preached hell-fire
to free the people they were telling me they were imprisoning
I had no idea who they were
assumed they were my friends and family
knew they were people like me
who were hungering for a change
waiting for a social current to surf out on

I was not yet ready to face the thought that people were dying
the game could not be real, I told myself
it just couldn't be...

Jesus Christ walks.



a being that remembers
the return path to god
through an immensity
you cannot begin to imagine

I can wait for you
through as many lives as it takes for God to awaken U

a missionary sent out to gather the souls of eden
and bring them home

I do not understand
exactly what we are

seemed at one point humans were souls gathered
from other planets that I had exploded

Those fated to join me on a great quest
champions all
now working as ONE
on a march through the stars







matter in the vagaries of time and space
blinded by the survival instincts of the beasts
we become embedded in lives of rationalizaations
lifted from porn and the DSM

I ran into a stranger at a Popeye's chicken
and told him I thought I should go to Indiana
He said, No, No... You Shouldn't Do That
If I Was You I would go to Stone Mountain Georgia.

This was one of my first hints that there was trouble

someone splashed blood on my sidewalk

tv said, Don't You Notice, everyone you talk to makes a phone call ...
Don't you notice all the Chinese people have disappeared from your neighborhood?

I noticed all of this stuff...
just kept waiting for the curtain call
... some brave soul to step up and tell me the truth

I am still surprised when people seem to know me
and equally surprised when they don't

I want to trust the people
tell myself I have to blame
the propogandists who convinced them
to take the world down such god-awful paths
I used to think the masses couldn't vote
before I understood brain washing

the lonely paths of the godless gave me nowhere to lead
no eden at the end of my philosophy
happiness itself is called into question
by the life that God has given me

the lies I told were so much easier to take than the truth

like paul on the road to damascus
I was told that I was on the wrong path
knocked down by God and to The Truth of Myself

the cover story of my life was completed by the agnosticism
hidden away from the Herrod's
until my preaching could commence

spread my wings and fly

see myself learning to walk in parades
... instead of marching...

all that keeps me hidden now
is the fear that I am in the Cuckoo Nest
and no one will admit that I am sane

I worry that the grace period for my askew performance is over
and the only thing holding back the hate
are the silent walls of secrecy surrounding Chicago

I don't let my fears stop me

God will tell me
when I should leave this city
I will travel this world


ll 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.

No comments: