(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 café 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…
