Thursday, 15 May 2014

In Order to Bloom...

(photo from unknown source)

I write to alight the world, to craft the reworded one word universe. I write because I cut wood before after and during enlightenment. I write for the rights of the left so we can all return to the centre. I write because the sunset on loves heart will once be set. I write because you haven’t met the real me yet. I write because this life will hunt me to death and these footprints will never be washed away by the hunters waving gun. I write because the moon can only meet the sun in the past inscription-ink of one impossibly strobed out and wild electron. I write because my proton and neutron spirit listens to the higgs boson of my heart beat.

I write because of the fire that my friends bring to my fire as we burn it down in the art of conversation, made in time with the owl and cicada in the shadowless shadows. I write because I howled with Allen Ginsberg, was on the road with Kerouac, was silently smiling with Tenzin Gyotso and felt the hum of the machinery in the stars of Stephen Hawking’s mind.  I write because my father read the hobbit to my magic sight-full eyes, and the war ended three times hence. I write because the meaning of life is 42 and I hitchhiked on a shoe shaped ship powered by the drive of infinity and a cup of tea.  I write because I’ve seen festivals retuned to the pirate ship of the psychic.

I write because I’ve heard the Akashic record of the multiversal lung sent through the lips of my daughters. I write because I’ve felt all our cultures true deity gliding over the nape of a neck and planted in a garden in rich red soulful soil.  I write because a girl broke my heart in teenage earthquakes that still echo footy ground smoking spot embraces. I write because I love to perform to the bohemian cafĂ© temple that sells the best beer in my home town. And we are the organic computer that will find the question to the one now and so answer bunjils blessings. I write because my mother did the same thing. I write because there is no question, we ARE the family of imaginations that are attempting the impossible fix of all in their hermitage, in their 3 pm shadow of thought-torturous-Atlas-moan, feeling the full rage of time, the chronic bipolar-schizophrenic-Alzheimer’s-catatonic-obsessive-compulsive-ADHD-meglomania of our collective advanced embodiment. I write because quantum mechanics has proven that we are all connected to our evolution and if you disagree, bring your evidence and I’ll laugh in our new connection.

I write because my great grandfather wrote and I have his ancient golden pen which I now hope to absolve of its heritage of sin. I write because the indigenous taught me how to begin on the pathway to become indigenous, to respect all dream times and skill lines to destiny amongst the permanence of tribal way. I write because Julia Cameron taught me to be kind to the inner child I know lives on the inside of everyone. I write to catch the fleeting shadow not meant to be shadow, but meant to be the molten silver on the gum leaves at the end of a hard tired day. I write because three pages of journal everyday teaches me chaos like 39 and a half teeth brushings leading to a car crash. I write because the very essence of order said we’re meant to be alive, somehow, impossibly sown in an adjective of love-verb.  I write because there’s always a few words left to bloom back to the gods…

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