#AutisticAF Out Loud

Johnny Profane (Knapp Âû)
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  • PERSONAL JOURNALS

One Voice... Raw. Real. Fiercely Autistic. johnnyprofaneknapp.substack.com

  1. FEB 4

    Autistic in a Sea of Faceless Ghosts… I Still Want to Remember You

    Note to long-time subscribers: You’re seeing this one again cuz I’ve given the original video a serious makeover. Then tucked it into a small archive of live spoken word pieces, for the newer folks these raw pieces brought to our strange little corner of the internet. _____ Someone wrote me: “These knocked me sideways… I spent so much time as an undiagnosed autistic girl, wondering if I was the alien dropped among the normies.” I can’t see faces. When I try to remember someone… even my wife… I see a shifting, indistinct swirl of features. This piece,” “A Swirl of Flesh-Colored Fog,” is about wanting to be friends. Struggling with that simple human desire… when your brain doesn’t work the way the world expects. No clinical terms. No inspiration porn. What it’s like. I don’t need diagnosed. I need appreciated for who I am. Yeah, I know the diagnostic term. Prosopagnosia. Let’s just say I’m not into masking behind tongue-twisting gig latin. Or symptom lists… that are stereotypes, in the end. Imagine my brief career as a salesman. Now… imagine a couple of lost marriages. I don’t need diagnosed. I need appreciated for who I am. How about you? Content Note: opinions & experiences of one autistic elder. Full Text Transcript. Friends? Finally late in life, I got friends… and love. And this last one is a selfie of what that’s like for me. I call it… A Swirl of Flesh-Colored Fog “Ya gotta minute?” She takes a quick scan of the aisles. Then toward the eternal sale table near the entrance. Pink and blue signs promising, “Two… If you buy just one…” It’s silent. Just me standing in front of her. Bottle of the Coke Zero I’m addicted to in my hand. Dusk. Rural Indiana. I guess the local beef cattlemen, horsey folks, and military munitions testers up at Crane Naval Base? They don’t hit Dollar General so much around sundown. “Sure,” she says. “Nobody much comes in around now. Z’up… you good?” I take a beat. To use my words… to find my words. “I’m trying to remember all you guys’… um, ya know, everybody’s names….” “Oh, no worries. You’re good. We really all should have name badges.” I take another beat. To switch appropriate gears. “No. You know. The autism thing. I have this face and name thing. It’s weird… but I can’t remember faces.” Awkward… awkward pause. If you’re listening to this, if you’re reading… Let me try to take you inside. My being… What’s that like? I only see… Well, words fail me. Take a visit to Walmart. Just a sea of faceless ghosts. Folks I greet, “I… I kn-know you… I have this thing. Can you tell me your name again?” Embarrassment. Stammering apologies… See, it’s like this… A swirl of flesh-colored fogThat’s my wife’s face in dreamsI only see her walking awayA grey ponytail… tattered jeans Love of my life… can’t see her…Not her green eyes… in stage makeup…Just homemade tats… the shape of her hair…Feelings,memories…talking after that breakup… So, I’m back talking to that DG clerk. “We don’t get out much. You guys? I… I guess it’s a job. But to us? You’re… well, friends. It means something to me. To learn your name. To… know you.” It means something to me. To remember your names. And… faces. “Oh.” Confused, she pauses. “It’s really ok. We know you and your wife. We get it.” “You know?” I’m urgent. I want her to get… I want her to get the weight of it. “It’s not for you. It’s for me. It means something to me. To remember your names. And… and put them with your faces. To be… friends.” I flash on all those parental commands to, “Make friends!” Then I say, “I just won’t get it right… right away. But I want to enjoy… doing it.” Silence. Awkward. But intimate. I stammer. “Are you… are you, uh, Ari?” When confused, my go-to fallback is details. “No, no, she’s the… she’s the short blond one.” She waves her right hand about shoulder high. “I know Kensington… cuz well I walked in on her anaphylactic…. Ya know, allergy attack. Over in the Dollar Aisle.” “Yeah. She’s the short one with black hair.” She gestures with her right hand again, just a hair lower. “And… and I’m Cyndi.” We laugh. Together. She mentions the name tags again. I make reassuring noises. “That’s Windy, right?” “No.” She laughs. “Cyndi… Just with the I and Y… reversed.” “Oh, thank god. For a moment I misremembered again. Thought you were named after that sappy 60s song.” She laughs, easy… again. “No, never that.” We share a wink. A nod. The doors slide… I walk outside. Cyndi. Just with the I and the Y… reversed. A swirl of flesh-colored fog. Framed by glasses. And twisted brown hair up on her head. About… yay… tall. CHAPTERS: 0:00 — Friends? Finally late in life…0:23 — Dollar General, sundown1:54 — Let me take you inside2:32 — “A Swirl of Flesh-Colored Fog”5:35 — About… yay… tall More Spoken Word: I share more pieces like this at AutisticAF Out Loud on Substack:https://johnnyprofaneknapp.substack.com/p/spoken-word-poetry Get the Chapbook: every clock is a handgun pointed at my head, art and poetry collection available on Amazon:https://www.amazon.com/every-clock-handgun-pointed-head-ebook/dp/B0FNLHC6SY Subscribers… free or paid… receive a free PDF of this neurodivergent art & poetry collection by email. About This Work: Johnny (Knapp) Profane Âû spoke at the UN World Autism Acceptance Day in 2022 about his illustrations rooted in neurodivergence. Published in Wordgathering (journal of disability poetry & literature), Neuroclastic, and Thinking Person’s Guide to Autism. In a former life, founding publisher of Unix World magazine. Living in rural Indiana in a trailer across the courtyard from his wife. With his 2 dogs, cat, and an unwavering commitment to raising hell, autistic style.​ #SpokenWord #ActuallyAutistic #DisabilityPoetry #NeurodivergentArt #MentalHealthAwareness Connect: * Drop a comment — Do you struggle to remember faces? Or yearn for connection your brain won’t let you have? * Hit the “follow” bell for new releases This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit johnnyprofaneknapp.substack.com/subscribe

    6 min

  2. JAN 26

    This Autistic Elder Looks Back… without Shame

    If you’re drawn to the raw experience born of neurodivergence, disability, trauma… or just honest storytelling that doesn’t sanitize the hard parts… Maybe this one’s for you. With full transcript, video, original artwork. Family leaves marks on you. Some visible, some not. Hell, just breathing-while-autistic… in the adult world… does a number. “Couldn’t you at least make it, Profano?” says my wife-to-be. Adding, “Who wants to be called ‘Profane??’” Conversations about changing my last name… I mean, who knew it was supposed to be a “couples conversation”? Not this smartass, but-naive-as-hell, 58-year-old autist. Not sitting on someone else’s couch. That we happen to be surfing in a backwoods Greene County, Indiana cabin. Um. I guess, my bad. But…I was busy reeling from losing my fourth or fifth career, estrangement from my family of origin, a forced 700-mile relocation… by bus… to Indiana,my new relationship with my future wife and family,joblessness, and homelessness…in under 6 months. And I never did the whole unspoken-rule thing well. Ya know, auDHD? So really not on my best game that day. I’m not ashamed. I’m not broken… “I gotta make a br-break,” I start sputtering. “They’ll tell themselves stories. They’ll make up shit. M-Make me a demon.” “They?” Her eyebrow arches. The eyebrow that raised 7 kids. This is 2011. I don’t have enough words in that moment to tell her who “they” are. Pretty much every relationship, teacher, job, and cause I’d walked out of. In my already long, getting-longer-fast life. “I’m not ashamed. I’m not broken. I don’t have a f*****g clue where I’m headed. But this is who I am. I gotta own… my self.” I kinda hear myself say that. Out loud. Catches me up short. Then, after a thoughtful beat, I mutter, “Right in their faces.” My wife has a bit to say. About changing her name to “Profane.” I have a bit too much to say in my dig-in-my-heels response. We had some wild moments back then… After a few months, I went the stagename route, Johnny Profane. Kept the potential marriage alive through compromise. But still managed to keep the “in their faces” intact. Cuz family… and the life after… leave marks on you. Some visible. Some not. I choose to wear them in plain sight… Shamelessly. I choose to wear them in plain sight…Shamelessly. This piece is what it means to me to live without apology. I got some things right, got some things wrong. And somehow kept stumbling forward anyways.​ This piece draws from real moments… scaling Mount Marcy the night Elvis died in 1977,leaving family behind 34 years later, complicated relationships that never quite resolve. I was finally diagnosed autistic at 63. It’s been almost 10 years. So I wrote this. Full Text Transcript. So I call this one, Shameless. Watch the 3+ minute performance (headphones recommended): Content Note: language, family estrangement, ableism, trauma, homelessness + opinions & experiences of one autistic elder. Shameless Live long enoughYa get a lot right,Get a lot wrong.Get to knowWell enoughYa can’t be a saintLurking in shadow…Living life perfectlyShameless. Shameless?Oh let me beShameless…No sun setsOn a painless life,So no moon shinesOn a stainless wife.Oh let me be… comeShameless. Scaling Mount MarcyThat night as Elvis died,Got branded a MountebankAs my sister grew colder. Stalking Death ValleySame sister… now dead… to meSame stars… chill my shouldersNow living life perfectlyShameless… Shameless.Oh let me beShameless…No peak capsAn aimless life,And no grave ever filledBy a blameless knife.Oh let me be… comeShameless. No mask hidesThe pain in life,So no words canExplain my fight.So, let me Be… come…Shameless. Fadeout I hate it. I love that one… That’s the whole thing, isn’t it. Living with both at once. CHAPTERS: 0:00 — Introduction0:11 — Shameless (the poem begins) MORE SPOKEN WORD: I share more pieces like this at AutisticAF Out Loud on Substack: https://johnnyprofaneknapp.substack.com/p/spoken-word-poetry GET THE CHAPBOOK: “every clock is a handgun pointed at my head” — art and poetry collection available on Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/every-clock-handgun-pointed-head-ebook/dp/B0FNLHC6SY ABOUT THIS WORK Johnny (Knapp) Profane Âû spoke at the UN World Autism Acceptance Day in 2022 about his illustrations rooted in neurodivergence. Published in Wordgathering (journal of disability poetry & literature), Neuroclastic, and Thinking Person’s Guide to Autism. In a former life, founding publisher of Unix World magazine. Living in rural Indiana in a trailer across the courtyard from his wife. With his 2 dogs, cat, and an unwavering commitment to raising hell, autistic style.​ #SpokenWord #DisabilityPoetry #AutisticPoet #NeurodivergentArt #FamilyTrauma #AutisticAF #PoetryPerformance #MentalHealthAwareness #ActuallyAutistic #RawPoetry Connect: * Drop a comment — What does family life look like for you? * Hit the “follow” bell for new releases #AutisticAF Out Loud Newsletter is a reader-supported publication. Click for a free subscription to receive new posts… and a free PDF of my Amazon chapbook of poetry. To support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber. Support AutisticAF.me here: Paypal · Ko-Fi · Facebook Pay “Johnny Knapp Âû” https://ko-fi.com/autisticaf This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit johnnyprofaneknapp.substack.com/subscribe

    2 min

  3. JAN 16

    Spoken Word Autistic Burnout: "Believe I'll Ch-Ch-Change... My Shirt"

    Full Text Transcript Someone said an average writer “borrows.” The other kinds, both kinds... steal out right. Bowie, Robert Johnson, Marvin Gaye. I owe you guys one for this. Believe I’ll Ch-Ch-Change… My Shirt. Sunlight cracks my window, Gotta be midday. Kick myself a pathway Just to pee into the bowl. Like a peek into that deepest hole, Zombie in the Mirror won’t let me look away — Same filthy shirt as yesterday, Body and soul. I Gotta Change. They say, “Ya gotta ch-ch-change. New day’s a-coming. Cuz that same old, It’s getting f*****g old.” They say, “Shed that old skin For one of truest gold…” I. Gotta. Change. Believe I’ll ch-ch-change My… Shirt. Karma’s a bitch dog, in heat. She prowls my old mind, Sleeps beside me every night… Feasting on defeats. No stone blocks this empty tomb But I can’t leave her behind... Memories of the darkest kind Blind my way outta this room... T H A T change I can not make— Faced all the strange this heart can take… I gotta change… I gotta change… I gotta change… I. Gotta. Change. Believe I’ll ch-ch-change My… Shirt. Break it down… I believe, I believe, I’ll go back home. I believe, I believe, I’ll go back home. You can't mistreat me here, babe, But you can when I get home… Waitress smiles, checkout jokes… shoplifting contact with little hope casual chic in the cubicle hoarding freak in the domicile Molestation devastation Frustration infestation losing jobs taking jabs Meltdown, shutdown… losing your shit Choose the label for your best fit Can’t see the forest For the leaves, That’s what’s brought me To my knees… New day’s never coming. And that same old, Got f*****g older. I yearn to shed that old skin I crave that shiny gold… I. Gotta. Change. Believe I’ll ch-ch-change My… Shirt. Man I feel the drama today. Hope you guys can handle it. Massive shoutout to artists I stole quotes from… David Jones, known to the world as David Bowie for “Changes,” that he released in 1972. And to blues genius Robert Johnson for “Dust My Broom,” released in 1937. And as always to Marvin Gaye, for his soul… invisible but always there. * More Live Autistic Spoken Word Bio Johnny (Knapp) Profane Âû is an auDHD spoken word poet, blogger, podcaster… sometime cosplaying Pretend Rock Star. Diagnosed autistic at 63, he’s published AutisticAF Out Loud since 2019… a raw, fiercely neurodivergent voice. His spoken word piece, “every clock is a handgun pointed at my head,” appeared in Wordgathering, a journal of disability poetry & literature. In 2022, he spoke at the UN World Autism Acceptance Day on his illustrations rooted in neurodivergence. Neuroclastic, Thinking Person’s Guide to Autism, and other sites have featured his work since 2019. In an earlier life, he was founding publisher of Unix World magazine in 1984. Johnny lives in a rural Indiana trailer… next to his wife’s trailer… with his dogs & cat. Occasionally he shaves… to face Walmart. “I’m autistic. Born 1953.I was not a product of a vaccine.I was not born to be pitied.I was born to raise Hell.Autistic style.I’m not out to inspire you.I’m out to give youan experience..of a life.” “every clock is a handgun pointed at my head,” art & poetry collection. available on Amazon. Connect: * Share your burnout experiences below * Hit the bell for new releases #AutisticAF Out Loud Newsletter is a reader-supported publication. Click below to receive new posts & free PDF of full Amazon collection… free. To support my work, consider becoming a paid subscriber. This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit johnnyprofaneknapp.substack.com/subscribe

    4 min

  4. JAN 14

    "every clock is a handgun pointed at my head"

    Full Spoken Word Transcript My time, it can’t be measured. Not a dimension. It’s a force. A violent force. every clock is a handgun pointed at my head III Every clock is a handgun pointed at my headEvery tick, tick… f*****g tickTolling Fear, Doom… dreadClick. Slide. Cock… click. Every night a mantra echoes through my headTV static… a crazy-making humSinging Dream, Drempt… dead…Not done. Not done. Not done… undone. 10, 9, 8… Dread7, 6, 5… Fear4, 3, 2… BEEP.Shoot the moon… or the country next doorCountdown. Deadline. Bow down… dead. Bound behind doors, bound in my headPace, paces, pacing… pacedEvery BEEP.Of the phone.Stops…my heart....I crash out with a scream for escape II Woods Deep woods Deepest woods My ears flyfrom bird songto bird song. A raptor circles then spiralsCrossing lines now dead Wind steals my breathTaking words never said This skin bag of atmosphereBreathes new air When the sun risesFirst it is coolThen it gets warmThe day passes Clouds above my head.Shaped by wind Outside my bodyThe same wind Inside my bodyThesameWind Yet… I 10, 9, 8… Dread7, 6, 5… Fear4, 3, 2… BEEP.Shoot the moon… or the country next doorCountdown. Deadline. Bow down… dead. Every clock is a handgun pointed at my head zero * More Live Autistic Spoken Word Bio Johnny (Knapp) Profane Âû is an auDHD spoken word poet, blogger, podcaster… sometime cosplaying Pretend Rock Star. Diagnosed autistic at 63, he’s published AutisticAF Out Loud since 2019… a raw, fiercely neurodivergent voice. His spoken word piece, “every clock is a handgun pointed at my head,” appeared in Wordgathering, a journal of disability poetry & literature. In 2022, he spoke at the UN World Autism Acceptance Day on his illustrations rooted in neurodivergence. Neuroclastic, Thinking Person’s Guide to Autism, and other sites have featured his work since 2019. In an earlier life, he was founding publisher of Unix World magazine in 1984. Johnny lives in a rural Indiana trailer… next to his wife’s trailer… with his dogs & cat. Occasionally he shaves… to face Walmart. “I’m autistic. Born 1953.I was not a product of a vaccine.I was not born to be pitied.I was born to raise Hell.Autistic style.I’m not out to inspire you.I’m out to give youan experience..of a life.” “every clock is a handgun pointed at my head,” art & poetry collection. available on Amazon. Connect: * Share your time anxiety experiences below * Hit the bell for new releases #AutisticAF Out Loud Newsletter is a reader-supported publication. Click below to receive new posts & free PDF of full Amazon collection… free. To support my work, consider becoming a paid subscriber. This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit johnnyprofaneknapp.substack.com/subscribe

    4 min

  5. 12/31/2025

    Autistic Spoken Word on this Moment...? “Slouching toward Montauk”

    This moment... this New Year... disturbs many. This piece shares a disturbing moment from my autistic youth—and how I survived it. It weirdly relates to right now. At 70-something, this is the happiest time of my autistic life. Not chasing distant goals—just breathing in this fabulous moment here. This piece inverts Yeats’ “Second Coming” to tell a personal story about my grandfather, sailing out to Montauk Point, and discovering that the anxiety of losing sight of shore gives way to something unexpected. A refuge from the Hell waiting for me back on the shore… Read the full transcript below, or explore more autistic spoken word in the links after the piece. Content Note: This piece addresses troubling family history and inherited complexity. Transcript Autistic Spoken Word on this Moment? “Slouching toward Montauk” Cold open My grandfather was a… complex man.He slept beside an orderly nightstand.Tucking Mein Kampf tightIn its tidy drawer every night. And… He used to take me sailing. {Silence} I call this one… Slouching Toward Montauk ... Let’s say… I’m in my 70s now. Happiest time of my autistic life. Not too worried about some fabulous unachievable autistic Nirvana… These days… Now, here’s that story. My grandfather was a… complex man.He slept beside an orderly nightstand.Tucking Mein Kampf tightIn its tidy drawer every night. And… He used to take me sailing out to Montauk Point… a sea journey from Bay Shore, Long Island… at least as he sailed it on the ocean side… swinging out into the deep water… In his telling, it was a fabulous place.Where a sandstone lighthouse lit the waves, warning of danger.Where the grass on the golf course grew sideways.And every single damn tree bowed toward the West…From the eternal wind blowing onshore.His heaven on earth, he called it…... The wind carries all the sound away…But its roar in my earscreates a kind of hushed silenceinside me..I always experience high anxietyas we lose sight of the shore.Just sky, waves & constant rolling…Disoriented.Like a whiteout in a blizzard.If you throw in some seasickness.But after an hour or so, I make my way to the prow. And sit. Wind on my faceSun on my bodySalt breeze filling my chest…Quieting my heart. Anxiety? Disorientation? I observeThe fixed lighthouseIn the far off dusk.Splashing its light… bravelyInto the spray.Knowing deepIn its softNative sandstone heart…Time and tide wait for it....I stop caring about the shoreline. And the anxious Hell waiting for me on the other side. For hours at a time.....Who cares about sailing toward Montaukand its fabulous trees…anymore…Or... ever again?I’m busy breathing in… this fabulous moment here Runtime: ~3:50 More autistic spoken word: * every clock is a handgun pointed at my head * Friends, Grief & Autism… My Friend Billy * Dancing Close to the Edge of the Noise * Family, School, Work? They created this... I wasn’t born under a star named Rage * My Autism? Failing Upward to Burn Out? A Shooting Star Has No Purpose * Like Some Angel with a Dislocated Shoulder… That Song I’ll Never Sing for My Son Subscribe free to receive new autistic spoken‑word & essays… and instantly get my “thank you” gift: a free PDF of my poetry & art chapbook, every clock is a handgun pointed at my head. Thanks for reading #AutisticAF Out Loud Newsletter! The algorithm hates me. I must be doing something right… so feel free to share it. I’m an autistic poet and spoken word performer, diagnosed at 63. Now in my 70s. I’ve been publishing AutisticAF Out Loud since 2019… work that refuses to be packaged. My spoken word piece , every clock is a handgun pointed at my head, was published in Wordgathering, a journal of disability poetry & literature. In 2022, I spoke at the UN World Autism Acceptance Day about my illustration work rooted in autism & ADHD. I live in a rural Indiana trailer… across the courtyard from my wife’s trailer… with my 2 dogs & cat. Occasionally I shave… to face Walmart. The algorithms hate me. I must be doing something right. If this resonates, subscribe free below to receive new autistic spoken-word pieces & essays—plus my 'thank you' gift: a free PDF chapbook, every clock is a handgun pointed at my head. #SpokenWord #AutismAcceptance #AutisticPoetry #Mindfulness More spoken word: Living Autistic Truth YouTube playlist #AutisticAF Out Loud Newsletter is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts free, click the link below. To support my work, consider becoming a paid subscriber. This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit johnnyprofaneknapp.substack.com/subscribe

    4 min

  6. 12/06/2025

    Friends, Grief & Autism…? They say we have no feelings…

    Friends, Grief & Autism…? They say we have no feelings… They say autistics don't have emotions. Don't make friends.  Clue, I ain't Spock. This is "My Friend Billy." A spoken word piece about grief, friendship, and what they never tell you about our autistic hearts. From my Amazon chapbook "every clock is a handgun pointed at my head." 3 minutes that blast the myth that autistic people lack emotional depth… wide open. Billy died in a polar vortex. Alone in his home. Local newspaper may have blandly read, “A Politician Lies…Local Man Dies.”  But he never left my autistic mind. Still laffs in my autistic heart. Teaching it how to praise. 👉 Chapbook (paperback & Kindle): https://www.amazon.com/every-clock-handgun-pointed-head-ebook/dp/B0FNLHC6SY 👉 Full text + free newsletter: https://johnnyprofaneknapp.substack.com/ 👉 New here? Living Autistic Truth playlist: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PL_812RrZO_QWB-WHVZRBe-hjr37UNPxdb — Chapters 00:07 Intro: They say we have no feelings00:21 65, going on death, woke…01:14 A politician lies… local man dies01:30 Billy . . . I wish I were that poet01:52 Laffing . . .  How he outraced cops02:29 missed him… for an hour — From a live subscriber stream. Original visual art by author throughout. Digital tools include AI. Hand sketches: grave marker, closing abstract image “Bardo #1.” — #ActuallyAutistic #SpokenWord #AutisticPoetry #Neurodivergent #Grief #Friendship #AutisticJoy #DisabilityPoetry Johnny Profane Âû | Born 1953 | Not here to inspire you — here to give you an experience of a life. Stay weird. Stay fierce. Stay alive. We got this. This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit johnnyprofaneknapp.substack.com/subscribe

    3 min

  7. 11/24/2025

    Family, School, Work? They created this autistic bad@$$.

    Where does my autistic rage come from? Not from being born wrong. From being raised, schooled, mocked, trained, therapped, and medicated into it. This is about the source. The ones who created what they blamed us for. No apologies, no redemption arc—just the accusation. Content note: Strong language, family trauma, discussion of rage & medical consequences of the rage they told us to keep inside + the experiences & opinions of one autistic elder. Born in 1953. 👉 Gift Season: “every clock is a handgun pointed at my head”https://a.co/d/3e0Uc7i Raw spoken word & art exploring autistic experience without the inspiration porn. Perfect for: * Your autistic or ADHD someone (the gift of being seen) * That someone who isn’t... and wants connection (the gift of understanding) 👉 Get the chapbook, “every clock is a handgun pointed at my head”: https://a.co/d/3e0Uc7i👉 Full text & community: https://substack.com/@johnnyprofane1👉 Live Autistic Truth playlist: 25 live performances of autistic spoken word Chapters:0:11 Intro: Where Autistic Rage Comes From1:05 I Wasn’t Born this Way1:19 F#&% that Noize1:23 The Nightmare Was You1:41 Being Me around… You1:57 So Many Yous2:07 I Blame You3:11 “every clock is a handgun pointed at my head” chapbooRecorded live, November 2025. Minimal production—raw delivery, authentic processing. This piece discusses: Autistic burnout and rage, family trauma and estrangement, school trauma, workplace discrimination, forced masking consequences, neurodivergent anger, medical consequences of chronic stress (including stroke), unmasking and living authentically. #ActuallyAutistic #AutisticRage #FamilyTrauma #SchoolTrauma #Neurodivergent #AutismBurnout #SpokenWord #NeurodivergentVoices #AutisticAF #Unmasking AutisticAF Out Loud Not here to inspire you. Here to give you an experience of a life.Born to raise hell. Autistic style. Transcript: Family, school, work...? They created this autistic badass. I wasn’t born under a star named Rage. I’m going to read something. It’s a little bit on the, uh... I don’t know, testy side? And it’s a work in progress. No inspiring ending... yet. Maybe never. Because sometimes there isn’t one. This is about where autistic rage comes from. I’m not ashamed of it. Any more than I’m ashamed of my autistic joy. This is me. It’s why being targeted first isn’t just political. It’s, uh... it’s personal, real personal. It’s a lifetime of being told, I’m the problem. We’re the problem. You’re the problem. And then watching them try to starve us... for political points. I call this... “I Wasn’t Born under a Star named Rage.” I think you get where... you see where I’m headed. I drempt I was on a journey And Charles Bukowski was my guide Like Virgil, Dante… but in a hurry A modern pace for a modern time... f**k that noize I had a screaming nightmare last night and it was you yeah it was a hellscape being around you watching my step around you holding my tongue around you Cringing around you being… me around you I wasn’t born under a star named Rage. No. You raised me You schooled me You mocked me You groped me… so many yous You trained me You therapped me You medicated me I blame you Right or wrong In my blinding, Stroke-at-age-30, repressed… rage I blame you. That’s it. There’ll be more. Maybe there’ll be a redeeming ending. Maybe not. That’s where I’m at. That’s the fuel. You don’t have to relate to every line. And of course, there’s nobody in this audience who’s a “you.” I think you know who “they” are. But if you’ve got rage too, you got my permission to express it. Because you’re not alone in it. Okay. I need to get off and go sleep for a few hours. It’s amazing how I work up for these things. And they can be... difficult for me. I’m so pleased you showed up. I’m so pleased you listen to me sometimes. I’ll talk to you soon. * More Live Autistic Spoken Word #AutisticAF Out Loud Newsletter is a reader-supported publication. Click to receive new posts and a free subscription. To support my work, consider choosing a paid subscription. This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit johnnyprofaneknapp.substack.com/subscribe

    3 min

  8. 11/17/2025

    Like Some Angel with a Dislocated Shoulder: Song for My Autistic Son

    A father’s reflection on parental regret, missed connections, and what it means to forget the life you didn’t live. Raw spoken word + visual art. No hidden meanings. No inspiration. Just what it’s like 👉More poetry: “Live Autistic Truth” playlist (link below) 👉 Full collection: “every clock is a handgun pointed at my head” (link below) 👉 Transcript: Link in comments Content note: Parental regret. Family estrangement. Unfiltered autistic experience. This piece explores the strange way autism and ADHD collapse time. How life-defining choices can feel as forgettable as a radio contest you meant to call. How parental regret sits next to everyday absurdity. How half flying and half falling can be the same motion. Not here to inspire you. Here to give you an experience of a life. CHAPTERS 0:00 - Like some angel with a dislocated shoulder0:15 - Half flying, half falling from the day I was born 0:45 - To a silent piano score... a horror picture show1:05 - Don’t be a dick. Real talk.1:25 - That call-in contest you just knew you could win1:35 - Hell, like this song. ————— MORE FROM THIS COLLECTION 👉 Full chapbook: “every clock is a handgun pointed at my head: songs of autistic innocence...and experience” Amazon: hhttps://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PL_812RrZO_QWB-WHVZRBe-hjr37UNPxdb 👉 “Live Autistic Truth” playlist (13 spoken word pieces - poetry + performance + visual art):https://www.amazon.com/every-clock-handgun-pointed-head-ebook/dp/B0FNLHC6SY 👉 Read the transcript + subscribe for weekly pieces: ABOUT THIS WORK I’m a 72-year-old autistic poet, performer, and multimedia artist. Diagnosed late in life. Making work that gives you the actual experience of being autistic. Not explanations, not inspiration narratives. Raw, unfiltered, unapologetic. This piece explores three intertwining themes: parental regret, the autistic experience of time, and what it means to be seen. Plain language. No academic jargon. No hidden meanings. If you’re autistic, maybe you’ll see yourself. If you’re not, maybe you’ll understand us a little better. Born to raise hell. Autistic style. GIFT IDEA Looking for a meaningful gift for someone autistic in your life? This chapbook says “I see you” not “I want to fix you.” Available on Amazon + as Substack gift subscription. #SpokenWord #Poetry #ActuallyAutistic #AutismAcceptance #VisualPoetry #MultimediaArt #PerformancePoetry #NeurodivergentArt #AutisticVoices #ContemporaryPoetry This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit johnnyprofaneknapp.substack.com/subscribe

    2 min
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Ratings & Reviews

3.5
out of 5
2 Ratings

About

One Voice... Raw. Real. Fiercely Autistic. johnnyprofaneknapp.substack.com

Information

  • Creator
    Johnny Profane (Knapp Âû)
  • Years Active
    2021 - 2026
  • Episodes
    70
  • Rating
    Explicit
  • Copyright
    © Johnny Profane (Knapp Âû)
  • Show Website
    #AutisticAF Out Loud