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

Sunday, July 12, 2009


I AM an instrument the universe plays
in a savage symphony

not so much a voice in your head
as a presence in nature/your heart

a good solider working for a psycho God with plans well beyond my understanding

Damned by the being the Son Of The One who set this madness in motion

The hated element /a club they have used to beat you so often
you learned to hate the club itself

a mental torturer hearing your confession

you sold my images/drew lots for my clothing

you surrounded my walk to Calvary with paparazzi
played the stone throwing crowd all the way
you were afraid to even help me when I stumbled

you will
awaken to the one who walks among you one day
your egos will crumble down into a thin dust of madness

Your God is love

behavior that attracts love pleases him

The military industrial complex relies on the sociopathic pragmatism of the priveleged
Everyone wants their gang to have more guns/more bombs/more soldiers

the arms race is an extension of cheering for the local team
that mystical love for those around us and our innate urges to protect them

Everyone wants their God to win
their secret friend validated

You will find my comedy toward the back of my blog, or

Google John Scott Ridgway for other works.

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