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

Tuesday, November 04, 2008


just to leave me
laying in my bed
in a hot room
staring up at the ceiling
feeling as if I will find no more on this earth
than just another cross

election day in america

when my campaign started
I had hope in politics for the first time in 20 years
at the time I wrote that I feared it would fade

Now has been almost two years
years in which I feel like the goals I have been pushing
are actually coming true
even though inside I FEEL the same dry ashes
a stillness where the passionate heart once beat out a march for the troops

where for are thou God on high?
Have you forsaken me here, again?

Have i FALLEN PREY to the minds of man?
Am I just a fever dream dreamt up in cia think tank?
are even my thoughts cleverly inserted paradigms

I have no answers
just the millions of question marks that I push through
bleeding from my scraped knees and torn palms...

You are welcome to spread my poems by ANY MEANS NECESSARY.


There is some overlap... but they are all different.

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