more and more lately there just hasn't been time to write.
i stop mid sentence when i attempt to write and i refuse to stick to a topic.
preferring to write in themes i allow the self to be led by words and leave all rules that tell me
should, would, could and must to shut up in the presence of the mighty WILL.
it's like that. without warning, sometimes a period sneaks through.
so if writing is the chosen labour then i might as well get on with the business of writing and
stick with it.
i've done the whole 9 yards.
entry level, work experience, part this and part that, different stars
same experience…
i want to serve my Creator.
again and again i whisper where dissident voices have become swear words and dare to swear
 |
| "black madonna and child" |
spaces provide themselves when one writes and allow themselves to be filled and questioned
and re.lived and re.visited.
minds come into play.
you hear voice channelling through sometimes ones very fingers on the keyboard seem to be in
some sort of dance and so we pause. we pause often times to recollect a time gone, a time
forgotten and sometime remembered… in a trance...
a time we were guerrillas you and i, walking only under the security of night…
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