TRUE STORY:

WAKING UP JESUS


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!"





WAKING UP JESUS...

WAKING UP JESUS...
We come into this life expecting too much and leave expecting too little

Friday, November 07, 2008

The never ending crusade of pain

I am so different than I was two years ago. Tested. That is what has happened to me. I was testing, trying something different, watching an organic creature rise up across this country. How I ever got to be the one on the board is beyond me. How any of this happened, is beyond me.

I know some of the readers who have recently come to my work have no idea what I am talking about. For the last few days, after a period of increasing activity, I started getting depressed and anxious before election. Only today am I starting to feel like myself again, whatever that means. When I get like this, I tend to just lay in bed thinking a lot. I could do that for years and years, though it isn't a particularly happy thing to do, it does get one out of oneself. Sometimes when I am depressed, the best I can hope for is just to get out of myself for a little bit, forget my problems, and the worlds, and try to relax.

I have a difficult time compartmentalizing all the different ways of being and acting
have a difficult time making sure I have the right personality to offer

i MOSTLY, of course, just go over and over the last couple years, since I became aware of my responsibilities. People like me, we are not used to having power over other people, because power means not only responsibility, but also an enslavement.


I have tried to make sense of my own motivations, but I was so provoked and beaten down by the attack on me, that I see now a lot of what I said were the bare musings of a story. Notes to myself. Of a time when I felt like the mad minister from Flannery O conner novels. I was writing from deep inside myself, it seemed... and at others, it seemed like I was being fed the words from on High.

I will not be able to let this go until I can talk with people who were involved openly and honestly. All of the people who used my likes and dislikes or whatever, who half ass agree with me on a few common sense issues, should, unless I am just too innocent for this world, decide to let everyone who wants to contact me, do so without fear of being tossed around by guys in black suites.


We can make this world a better place. This will never happen as long as people like me, who truly care about the world and have a history of doing good works, are taken out like this. THat is what has happened to me. I have been removed from history, scrawled in the underground, in the history of the spies. I suppose one day they will study all of this, when the lies are no longer needed to save the face of the living... All of the people who involved themselves is what blows me away more than anything else. How could all of these people, who obviously have money, be subdued by some force in american politics, some secret police.

I get the feeling that they expect me to go away. To quit writing all together. I don't know what anyone wants of me. As long as I am surrounded by lies, imprisoned by the presence of spies and their cowering cronies, I will hone my skills, perfect my ways of writing, learn more and more about putting books together. I will consider my words my own projects, like I always have.

They are obviously above the law. They great they I always called them in my poetry. THey exist up there beyond the conspiracy theories, beyond the glaring white light of the interrogator. I do not fear them, so much as I am disappointed by them. I think they know this by know. I reserve my fears for what I have done, or what will happened to others. As far as what they can do to me... my life could be much worse. For someone with chronic pain, I am lucky to get anything done. Let alone enough words to fill a shelf, which I am rapidly approaching, though I could hardly say that they are all fit for being reread, let alone published...


I hate having to be the point man, sometimes. Like bitching about Tommy Smothers. I should have explained myself better. I forget how much other people were usoing my words, how anxious they were to make sense of them and tell you waht to do with them. I was used. Total war for total peace was about universal forgiveness. A goal for all time and history and religions. Seemed the simple key to all of the words problems to me. Forgive all the bad guys with their entrenched armies, tell them to lay down their arms, and this one time, be forgiven. Then we could just kind of start over. Instead of all of us coming at each other believing it is our way or the highway, it was time to actually discover how many ways there are and which ones are best.

I really have no idaa how god got into this campaign. Something was inserted in my mind, I think. I was in a coma for thirty hours, and when the amnesia went away, I was filled with a gracious feeling of forgiveness, a universal love for all people. This is not me on one level, and on the other it is me entirely. I want to be a person who forgives others their trespasses; one of those people who understand that this is the only way I can expect forgiveness myself. And after what I have seen of this life, there is no one who can escape a few regrets -- oh, they are out there, like the overly confident to scary Ron Paul statement about like everything about himself.. but I am not one of them.


I do think that people who are criticizing me at this point, are more or less shoving around a blind guy. I mean, put your self in my shoes. Tell me, if you were in the kind of pain and drugged out mania that they had me in, would you have lashed out, would you have considered the most bloody paths to freedom. Ask other prisoners of war. That is what I am. I broke no laws... other than smoking pot, and small shit that got in my way ... like not paying a parking ticket when I was barely scrapping by, and shit like that... when my attackers found I actually was not going to break a law, that I just was another writer trying to make sense of the world; just another philosophy major who went into the arts. Just another of many things, that all happened at once.

Mostly though, I was used. A puppet for higher forces. Those who had in place a vision of God that they expected me to accept and become. Why anyone would choose me to play Jesus is beyond me, while at the same time making perfect sense. Sadness within.... I should have been able to celebrate this week. Instead, I am just looking around for the next project, though I seem to know that they great they have decided I am too radical to even the mild power base of being financially stable. This is part of what kills me about all this. I had in the back of my mind this idea that I should not take anything from anyone last year. I just had this gut feeling. and to my way of thinking, I do not work for the mob. In this city, I have always just ignored them. Not my job, you know. I still feel that away. THIS Is quite different than being for them, or going after them. This is indifference. As long as they leave me alone. Like anyone, I will fight back. And if that meant using thh

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