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, March 29, 2010

A Militia Was Busted That Claimed They Were Going To Be Fighting By My Side In The End Times.

I hope that nothing I wrote has implied that such help is needed.  The end times come, and I need no one. That is the point.  What help does the bomb need?   A detonator.  Who is the detonator of this bomb?  God.  This war at the end of times is mostly over.  I fought on the spiritual realm, as the flesh was waking up, my army of Angels and the dead storming Hell, freeing the souls tricked into serving Satan... and watching as the Dark One was slain by his own son.

Jesus is a power well beyond what you can imagine.  Spending your time thinking you are going to protect me, when indeed it is I who protects you, has always made me laugh.

Know my human friends, you would do better to fight for peace than long for war. People who long for war have watched too many movies.  War should be dreaded.   Even preparing for such a battle shows hubris.  What help could a God need from a man?   They try to make themselves important, and to describe their importance in the words of man is impossible.  When you are back in your soul, you will know all truth.  Until then, you won't.  I know this is a maddening thought -- especially for me, since I have seen the face of God, and our path... since I live that future even as I live this now and the past long before humans.  Time is different than you think... non-existent, actually, except as a way of identifying a street corner in time.

I am not being very clever, poetic, etc... in here this morning.  I have been out among the people, in my way, establishing a presence on Facebook.  Interesting group of people came to me for friendship, though I think I disappoint a lot of them by not being Alex Jones.  I cannot really judge him that well, do not listen, only  did a few times, but the issues were so far out there beyond anything that could be proved or whatever.... that they ended up seeming like mere speculation, people who had invented their own version of Dungeons and Dragons to play all day long in their heads, a place far from the mundane lives they live, where everything is embued with the drama of movies and books...  they want a story arch.  That is what people long for the most.  Some create one, go to school, get a job, a wife, kids, a garage full of power tools.  Nothing wrong with that.  It is safe.   It is an old story people have played out for thousands of years.

Others, like myself, go for the artist's story arc, the one that at first ends with us wildly famous, then ends with us, at best, thanking God all we have to do is write, and grateful as hell we get paid to do what we love.   Fame and wealth are benefits that bring their own sets of problems, especially the first.  I do not know what to think when people hero worship me.  Has happened a few times.  I hate it..  I am undeserving.  Just being a writer does not make you smarter than other people on the big issues.   Once someone, blown away by my poetry and half trying to seduce me,  asked me if I believe in God like my answer mattered to her.  When I quoted Nietzsche, she mysteriously reminded me he went crazy, like his thoughts drove him mad, and no syphilis.   Niestzsche is such a sore point to me.  He was no Nazi.  Liked Jews.  Thought all humans had this great potential, especially artists...  he was a poet more than a philosopher, but mostly he was someone who understood that people lived by story arches, and the ways people propped them up were not necessarily true.  Not such a huge thought anymore, because everyone knows it.  A lot of studying philosophy for me was hearing the original source of thoughts I had already encountered in art, especially in music... most generations get most of their philosophy at church, and from music.  In my case, my parents, more by osmosis than any words of wisdom, taught me the difference between right and wrong as a very serious matter.  Theft was not getting something over on someone, it was the horrible source of internal wounds, guilt, etc.... Like I wrote, once I was cajoled by six kids to steal a piece of candy -- they were filling their pockets. I burst out crying outside the store.  Could not stand that I had actually stolen something.  I took the candy back and no one was at all sympathetic with my little five year old confession.  My mom was pissed..  Disappointed.  I certainly never did that again.  Thank God, inside of me, is something that respects other people.  That is what it is.  Respect for other people.  A lot of people lose that simple bit of humanity, become bitter and hateful..  I read them everywhere.   Oh, well..

Like I have told you, I drove cab or fifteen years, and never once picked up someone who was less than me, or someone who was more... and I am the Christ -- think how much more absurd it is for a human to set themselves up as better than others -- they should explore their past lives, and they would find sympathy for all kinds of ways of being, because they have been there, learned those lessons....  I do not know why souls really keep coming back to the earth.  I do not believe in Karma at all.  Period.  People do not get what they deserve.  Everyone deserves a heavenly palace, which is a metaphor for something even more marvelous, of course... if you could see the image of God's face in my mind, you would tremble and drop to your knees... and you would know, we must come together as one tribe.  

I speak to Israel today.  I am very disappointed in the new settlements.  Once again, you have shown your arrogance is the master over your mercy.

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