Pinkplate Freewrite

Behold, developed incarnations,
descent of freewill is caused and effected by
joy and pain, each evolves independently,
slowly through needs of others,
reunion of brotherhood paths of riches
expansion of one-ness, vital aspect of separation, deep urge to progress,
Must Come to Earth, countless remains advancing humanity harmoniously,
presenting consideration for self-control, progressive climb along the physical plane of desire in the universal emotion fire drawn together, in a sense of significance fire is a secret, ancient sacred thing, anxious to give self, true love is a security, small circle unbinding wider, lightly balanced urge of idea,
minister of panoramic flow stilling strength in a quiet place, keenest of inner worlds,
on the shore of horizon blindly supported by worldly wisemen
Discovery is a spark indulged encouragement through the maze, living with the source of the flame, is facing the persecutor,until frailty accepted fully, freely, judgingly rebuilt to behave, in a manner, no less
these inflicted carry alone
mistaken for disertion,
curse you for ever trying
the resentment, agonising.
ever thankful, he gave his blessed

We of The Craft, Touched with Fire

‘ “We of the craft are all crazy,” remarked Lord Byron about himself and his fellow poets. “Some are effected by gaiety, others by melancholy, but all are more or less touched”; specifically the artistic voyage, seen as ‘a fine madness’ – the fierce energy, high mood, and quick intelligence, a sense of the visionary and the grand; a restless and feverish temperament – commonly carrying the capacity for vastly darker moods and energies, often interlaced with volatile or stormy emotional behaviour. When infused with the artistic genius temperament, can become a powerful imagination and a force of inner-workings, eccentric and extreme force.’

‘The aura of ‘mania’ endowed the genius with a mystical and inexplicable quality that served to differentiate him from the typical man, the bourgeois, the philistine, and quite importantly, the “mere” man of talent; it established him as the modern heir of the ancient Greek poet and seer and, like his classical counterpart, enabled him to claim some of the powers and privileges granted to the ‘divinely possessed’ and ‘inspired’.’ – from ‘Touched With Fire’, first published 1993 by Kay Redfield Jamison

“I am groaning under the miseries of a diseased nervous system; a system of all the others of the most essential to our happiness – or the most productive of our misery…. Lord, what is Man!
Today, in the luxuriance of health, exulting in the enjoyment of existence; In a few days, perhaps in a few hours, loaded with conscious painful being, counting the tardy pace of the lingering moments, by the repercussions of anguish, and refusing or denied a Comforter.
– Day follows night, and night comes after day,
only to curse him with life which gives him no pleasure”
– Robert Burns

Paradise Now

‘It is 1968
i am a magic realist
i see the adorers of che

i see the black man
forced to accept
violence

i see the pacifists
despair
and accept violence

i see all all all
corrupted
by the vibrations

vibrations of violence of civilisation
that are shattering
our only world’
. . .

‘we want
to zap them
with holiness

we want
to livitate them
with joy

we want
to open them
with love vessels

we want
to clothe the wretched
with linen and light

we want
to put music and truth
in our underwear

we want
to make the land and its cities glow
with creation

we will make it
irresistible
even to racists’
. . .

‘we want to change
the demonic character of our opponent
into productive glory.’

– Julian Beck, Paradise Now, International Times (London), July 1968
– Poem found in Theodore Roszak’s ‘The Making of a Counter Culture’, 1970

I,I,I. (Native american songs and a free write)

‘I rise, I rise,

I, whose tread makes the earth rumble.

I rise, I rise,

I, in whose thighs there is strength.

I rise, I rise,

I, who whips his tail when in rage.

I rise, I rise,

I, in whose humped shoulder there is power.

I rise, I rise,

I, who shakes his mane when angered.

I rise, I rise,

I. whose horns are sharped and curved.’

-These are the lyrics of a song from the Osage Indian American tribe,
called; ‘The Rising of the Buffalo Men’.
I also found this, although the origins are unknown to me.

‘I have spirits,
Spirits have I,
My Spirits
Are like birds
and the wings
and bodies are dreams
I have spirits,
spirits have I.
I,I,I.’

Soon after I started writing my own! If you don’t know me or my steez,
I’m an explorer of my language, and the cultures of the world.
Inspired by the upward, the positive. Here’s my free write,
inspired by Indian American culture.

As a keeper of harmony,
I pledge the earth, my heart
and everything I stand for –
the vital energy of
the passions of youth, of
the voices of elders, the vital
energy in which built my bodymind ark, and life
force without which I am but an echo in chant;
A celestial being in a vessel of effervescent resonance.
If I open my heart to the whole universe
I wonder who will answer first,
but usually I’m just drifting alone,
like a shadow in a blizzard, I’m screaming into a storm.

Gitanjali Song offerings

‘Where the mind is without fear and the head is held high;
Where knowledge is free;
Where the world has not been broken up into fragments
by narrow domestic walls;
Where words come out from the depth of truth;
Where tireless striving stretches its arms towards perfection;
Where the clear stream of reason has not lost its way
Into the dreary desert sand of dead habit;
Where the mind is led forward by thee into ever-widening
thought and action –
into that heaven of freedom,
my father, let my country awake.’
– Rabindranath Tagore