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

Monday, July 13, 2009

Curtain Calls


A star is a metaphor
for many things
that a mere mortal
could never attain.

we hate and love few strangers
we love and hate a lot of metaphors
stand-In's for people we don't know

we communicate with them as what we think they are
not what they are

the Micheal Jackson in my mind
represented those who prey on Children
My issues used him as a media target
Where I could try to confess and purge my rage

I remember him
as a child star
a child myself
I would have told you back then that he was the luckiest child alive

we were raised to want and worship the rich and famous lives
our young minds were still just discovering
the worship of icons in the media
society just then beginning to crumble
destroyed by the new ministers of truth
the actors and writers and artists
the quoted and interviewed and photographed

L Ron Hubbard tried to buy icons for his religion
ready made little media magnets
human billboards walking around promoting his con
An early take on Dungeons and Dragons
Before the deconstructionists got a--hold of all the myths
and began searching around inside for any hint of Truth
creating an Anonymous crew holding up the truth to their lies

They almost got Jackson... sent Lisa Maria Presley after his money
Gave him the sham marriage his career required
He was like Elvis in his rejection
They both had grown up with people trying to get their money
& recognized the con under the earnest smiles

Michael Jackson began to morph before my eyes
His music lost me at thriller
I was too rock n roll to care for what I thought of as Disco
No music aficionado in the first place -- I sort of assumed my taste was bad

Today I am reading all the notes left in his wake
The bits of information that make up my myth of the man
were forged in rage at predators and his seeming transformation
into a white woman
The politics just were bad....

Now I am learning just how horrible this man's life truly was
Just how complete he fits into the way I think of wealth and fame

He was a slave laborer throughout his childhood
beaten or watching beatings his entire life
Children being hit

He wanted to surround himself with children who were happy
to fill himself with feelings he felt he'd missed in childhood
An icon, he spoke the words and everyone wanted to go along
Now we find out he is taking 30 Valiums a day
... I used to take those for my back and they mess you up
no one likes living that fucked up
your life is a hell that you refuse to enter anymore when you are filled with needle marks
the only thing left in your real life is pain and withdrawal... why go there?

He was abused, used, and neglected

He grew up to be an abuser, a user, and a neglector
and a genius at dance and performance

I can never forgive people who go unpunished
Do the crime, do your time
come out and start over
be someone else

He was punished for his crimes
crippled his lifestyle at least
let a bit of how people see him
into his life

Good people want to say nice things to the family
stay on the better stories
b appropriate

at first when I heard he died
he completed a story that I had about him in my mind
a predator was gone
One down....

Now I see how the doctors kept him all wasted
He was slaughtered by modern medicine
beaten into a bruised and bleeding babe
dependent on a bottle of Jesus Juice

Can a man be judged for being created a monster?
Seems the creator himself is to the blame
the beatings given children that drive them to think
violence is the way to show someone who is right
who is almighty
who is making the rules
then they wonder why the gangs seem so natural to some?

I have seen enough life to know that some blows to the brain never heal

In the press the stars have to be Svengali
for every interview, auditions, performances
They play up whatever metaphor suites their target audience
toe the party line

stay away from the spotlight when they snort coke and whore out

Jackson's couldn't have gotten away
with having all the children over to never never land
if he was out and gay
That ain't right but prejudice is out there
Maybe if society were a little kinder
he would have evolved into someone adult
tempered by the moods of lovers
whose grace would have been more important than any drug

A gay black man in the media
Don't see too many of those
The pressure is too extreme to conform
and grows more extreme
with every step you take up the ladder
sexuality becomes an economic equation --
a gay loses some of their core audience
the screaming girls who were in the front row since his first memories
would have turned away

He was so afraid people would turn away
He tasted what it was like to hailed with love from all over the world
He swam in that love like an ocean of morphine
The life he went back to after the performance could never compare
He started shooting the concerts up into his veins
Getting all that glory without an audience
after a life of needing to be needed
he needed no one

His own chemical never never land
snorted, shot, swallowed, smoke and drank

The doc's were well paid to go along
in a criminal operation to keep a human being controlled
signing those checks

Told since infancy that it did not matter what he felt
what mattered was what he did
His feelings were secondary to the dance moves
the belt
he could feel it
even when his brothers were being beaten

And his father was beaten and someone is being beaten as I write these words

And someone else is saying that they wished their parents had spanked them enough
to avoid jail and go to school

He was told that what mattered was what people thought of him
Be What They Want

tried to hide that he drank, the drugs

got into a sham Scientology marriage
even as he changed his face into a perfect androgyny
He couldn't hide who he was
Anymore when the drug him into court for sleeping with kids

He was wasted and wearing pajamas one day
spry and defiant the next

now the people are coming out and talking about trips to south America with boys
gay lovers hidden in cheap motels

he quickly becomes a tragic figure
he knew he was almost too weak to live
that the od's were going to get him sooner or later
the anesthesia he was taking to sleep kills most people who abuse the stuff
told his daughter he would be gone soon

He was signed to do fifty concerts he and everyone around him knew
the sickeningly thing drug addict was never going to make
even his contractually obliged 13 minutes a show

I guess we all hope that God
or our conscious
buys the rationalizations
we've used to navigate
the human geography

I believe the only word
that means god
in the human language
is love

Endless love...
replacing the hatred
the cynicism
the cryptic con jobs

I forgive him now

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