2023 Vision

The Bizarre Behavior Around Coronavirus | RT


edited by Uncle John

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Bizarro World Wide PANDEMIC VIRUS








"Sorry that you feel that way

The only thing there is to say

Every silver liningīs got a

Touch of grey


We will get by

We will get by

We will get by

We will survive"






Post Pandemic phase One

Courtesy Louisiana Department of Health


"Got to get down to the Cumberland mine

Thatīs where I mainly spend my time

Lotta poor man got the cumberland blues

He canīt win for losin

Lotta poor man got to walk the line

Just to pay his union dues

I donīt know now, I just donīt know

If Iīm coming Back again

I donīt know now, I just donīt know

If Iīm coming Back again

I donīt know now, I just donīt know

If Iīm coming Back again"


Quest for Completion & Return to Social Life


Phase Two - Quest

Fox Theatre, Oakland, California, June 10, 2022

This audience, all 2800, are wearing masks.


"Sometimes at night I dream

Sometimes at night, I think i understand

Way late at night, more I feel I understand

Itīs brother to brother and itīs man to man

And itīs face to face and itīs hand to hand

We shadowdance the silent war within

Shadowboxing the apocalypse

Wandering the land

Shadowboxing the apocalypse yet again,

and again

Shadowboxing the apocalypse

and wandering the land"

from "My Brother EsaU" Bobby Weir & The Wolf Bros.



Phase Three – Vision




1- “Tidings,

without trumpets

Wind gathers

the drawstring

of the clouds,


confluence of tides

propels encounters

that seem more

 than coincidence,


glances exchanged

over a backyard fence

summarize things unspoken,

promise among them.


a moving van

may be prophesied

   in the driveway,

boxes of blue china

packed in dead leaves,

summer mittens and

a shooting star on a stick

but no Apocalypse.


2- A dog is launched by

the prohesied van,

with chance precision,

as though at

a chosen target.

The urge to applaud

arises perversely.


Times like these weīd

love to believe in

eschatological thunder

that rocks the stars

obliterating all we disdain

with emphatic accuracy

as promised by St. jack,

lips sweetened with

locust and wild honey

-- a vision that loses

in translation but

remains compelling,

  leaving us with

 a general sense of

something missing,

it would be better

not to have missed:

a well staged Apocalypse.


3- That particular gate

will not be opened in

the heliocentric outpost

of former high Heaven

no matter how significant

the view obstructed.


Horsemen convene

bearing documents,

details of which

must be reconciled

since there will be

no universal amnesty

of fiscal irregularities

courtesy of Revelation,

no screeching tires and

sirens of all tarnation

commanding us to pull over

and submit to strip search

of the soul at trumpet point.


4- Split skulls and bullets

bloom in the garden of amphortas

broken bones, hearts

and promissory notes

inscribed on stars

all sacrificed to necessity.


closing down the culture.

nothing left to imitate.

no more source material.


5- This is the perfect kingdom

when all is said and said again:

kingdom, come and gone,

of love so far surpassing


it amounts to madness.


what was once

recognizably human

issues from

amniotic midnight

to uninflected light

with no whisper

of armageddon.


6- Stars will not fall nor

seals be broken.

Light will burn in the kitchen

until past dawn

when completed forms

will be compared against

a routine checklist

and found wanting


but there will be

no apocalypse

with the moon

in heaven bleeding.

there will be no need.


Destruction is complete.

This generation

passed away on its feet.

The dead have been called,

you among them,

summoned by an ad

in the personal section

run one time only

in a paper you never read.


Resurrect yourself with

A strong cup of coffee,

shake off the dust

of the grave

and start sweeping.


Beneath the rubble

Of exhausted culture

you may catch a glimpse

of something gleaming.


Bring it to me

carefully wrapped

in wax paper.


It may be the heart

of new creation-

hold it in cupped hands,

breathe on it gently,


hope against hope,

that given

time, tears and trust

it will learn how to beat."

Thanks to the pen of Robert Hunter &

the Literary Renaissance

Supporting a global literary community

Poetry by Robert Hunter

Lyrics by Robert Hunter & John Barlow

Music by Jerry Garcia, Bob Weir, Phil Lesh

Edited by Uncle John

All Rights Reserved.