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

Thursday, November 05, 2009


The indigo girls album by this name came alive for me in the first few months of Waking up to being this creature, and realizing that I was certainly not what one would expect in a Christ, I began to understand how other people, who were aware of me must have been quite puzzled by my behavior.    The songs on this record called directly out to me in my taxicab, telling me that I needed to wake up and take my place in the world.  There is a song, Don't Give That Girl A Gun that spoke to me.  On my desk different days were cd's to play.  Oddly enough, among the few things we noticed about their breakins were the changing of cups from red to black and back.

I was shamed by the words... felt like I had to wake up NOW...  that others were waiting and the time was short.  Man or God, my mind was being used and is used, to decipher the ways of a God and forge some kind of ethical path that takes into account what has been revealed in science, rather than playing the 'cleric as God themselves' with their  denials of science -- really, who are they to deny science?   I distrust clerics who have no room in their cosmology for basic, mathematically proven theories.

Everyone reaches this point in their existence;   we have to own up to living in a society, realize that our actions have real consequences;  some ignore it, others suppress it, a few blow their brains out . . . waste out on drugs that trap them in emotional worlds where their existences becomes all about controlling how they feel....  they turn away from engaging with the macro-world and wrap themselves into whatever mode of luxury they can access with their income.  In my way I did this, too.  Mostly I spent my adulthood in school.   Left off any political action by my early twenties, when I began to feel like the swing to the right was unstoppable, and I was alone in this forest of right wing, hypocritical lies, and others who were just plain criminal -- believer's that the only thing that moves in the world is money....  I gave up on this countries politics, a victim of declaring the masses deluded as I sat alone with my stunning disbelief in the age of Reagen, who was a war criminal and a shyster and a shill for a bunch of billionaires, convinced me that I was surrounded mostly by crazy people.

To some, it must have looked like I gave up. I retreated into my own mind, trying to figure this world out, taking nothing much on faith at all.  The year after year of classes taken for my obscure agenda of becoming educated enough to have something other than my own emotions to write about (isn't that where all poets start and most, those who don't become poets, stop?) .   There is an insanity in supporting a president who had death squads roaming across south america, instilling hatreds for the states that rages to this day in the leftest's below the boarder...   mor3e like movie star worship than political respect -- ronald reagen played a great president, even if he was not one at all...   they talk of putting him on Mount Rushmore (causing me to research how to make bombs on the internet, knowing there is no better way to end a life than blowing that smirking face off the side of a fucking mountain).  They are currently just making statues of him, even as his economics are blowing up in the worlds face  like an unexpected, unwanted, golden shower from a bum on the subway....   -- he made of God out of the Markets, said this Market would decide who became billionaires and paupers.  The Market is no God.  The market Reagen brought us stole the money of the poor, syphered it up to the top 1%  -- real wages are down for the working class, while they make money hand over fist, money that is taken from the mouths of the many.

Religion and politics began to seem like distractions to me.  Politics i had figured out -- a big scam, talked big and did little.  Even the democrats were sounding like republicans to me.  The preachers either seemed absurd, like on tv, or sincere men who were passing out a form of opiate and care that was touching, though ultimately unenlightened if you went too far with the whole is there or is there not a god and angels and heaven and hell and all that shit that just sounds like so much made up bullshit, the crosses and mosques and temples seemed always like just the  left over guesses of primitive man.  Clubs and cultures with self-sustaining hierarchies.

From the outside it must have looked like I was fucking around, next to the duties of someone like a Christ.  Certainly I would have behaved differently had I known anything about my background.  I know because I am different now than I was before this knowledge, obviously.   The last time this happened to me, I  became awake in the desert, where I realized the power that could be mine should I seek it, and I realized this was the danger of the flesh, making too much of it...  in the immortal landscape of time, this flick of life is nothing.

I became this thing and wanted it documented on some level.  To show the world humility.  Fragility.  Kindness and rage.  When I first started showing myself, they displayed me on the tv's and computers, and I knew that if this Christ was real, then he had shown up within me to show the horrid and the beautiful...   I still don't know what to believe about what I said.  Still...  I have seen enough that I have to take others belief seriously, even if my own comes and goes.

"There's something happening here
what it is ain't exactly clear."

Buffalo Springfield

The story of my life.
I won  a t-shirt saying this lyric at the Rockettes Christmas Show, of all places.  Obviously, we got free tickets.   Fun, though not something i would have chosen.  I guess I am glad I went, just for the dirty old man thrill of seeing those gorgeous women dancing in scanty clothes, doing kicks in their short red skirts... showing  enough camel toes for an entire herd.

I truly am going to find a way to freedom...

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