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

Friday, October 29, 2010

Prison Notes

the flood of lies splashing over my head 
I sink under
my  last sweet air burning in my lungs
until the urge to breath overwhelms/panics
gasping in the putrid black mucus

they are playing a waiting game
jailers    jailers    jailers  

imprisoned by my own security
an isle away from my supporters and haters

They mistake me for a shaven Samson

mistake me for something they dreamt up in their bibles   
the self help books/control mechanisms of the masses

the only words God ever uttered were I AM... the rest is a fever dream of man

I tell them I am the bonfire that will consume all your Holy Books
how could they not deride me?  Crucify me?   Hate me?  
imprison and hide me and try to seduce me to enter their fold?

Understanding the ways of man brings me little forgiveness
I cannot allow the confrontations to pass this time
cannot rely on the future to correct the hatred of my flesh
can't tell myself the times are not yet
for the finality

I fought to alleviate suffering before that day of Judgement
when I knew so many would fall short

all I could do was hope 
to bandage the wounds of their short lives

as I kept my secret of the Betrayal
to come
the day God uses my magic to fill the earth with fire
Humans judged
By a Distant and Unexplainable deity
who forever knowing better... ignores my pleas for mercy

No comments: