No, thank you, I don’t want another glass of your fancy shiraz While you lecture me on climate change And the horrors of plastic bags And cotton buds. I don’t really think your worm farm Proves much. And your aboriginal art collection Is a living piece of voodoo. Yes, it’s all so very worrying … More On trying to come home…
The Earth, she has her own rites for the making of Earthlings, for the making of Good Women. In an Age where the precious cargo of our inheritance of story is confused, is under assault from the pornography of the market, the rage of the war machine and the dry tongues of our own despair, … More Beautifully, broken – the special damage of a Good Woman.
‘I’ve got work to do,’ he says. ‘Me and the other writers and song makers. We’ve got to clean up the story, get back to the land, let the dark stories in so we can pass on a better future to our grandchildren. If you want to say it’s too late, that the whole place is going to hell, well, tell that to your kids and see how it feels.’ … More An Absence of Stars – the Dark Art of true story.
For a week now I’ve been in conversations with a bird. She is a small thing. A perky little honeybird who steals from Leonard Cohen … Oh darling, little, sleeping one, what if the wound is really the crack that lets the light come flooding in? I want to write the story of the soulbird and her magic. It may … More The Way the Light Gets in ~ song of the soulbird.
Bob came to mow the lawn yesterday. I saw him creep through the side gate while I was sorting out my shell collection. He slunk in hunched and filthy. His sticky white legs poking out of saggy King Gees. Bandy ankles thrust into ratty Blunstones, raw with mud and ash and spit from years of grubby labour. … More Good Men, Hurting… a message from the Jasmine King
I hit the boy in a daydream. He strolled his motorbike straight out onto the highway where my 50km an hour cruise in flipflops and sun dress was abruptly confused into a squall of bent metal, shredded petals and grating skin. It was a bright morning, the scent of papaya and grass smoke on the … More Through the window
When the fine art of conjuring the mighty cosmic serpent goes wrong, it takes a Colombian juggler, a bottle of snake juice and a steady needle to sharpen the carnal fang. Vilcabamba Valley, deepest Ecuador, 2pm under a fierce Andean sun: here we are in the garden. Humming birds whiz about like dabs of oil … More The boy with the really bad tattoo
How Charles Darwin’s ‘Struggle for Survival’ theory produced a sick-minded, hell-bent humanity which has failed to notice that… the scum also rises. Jetting into the Galapagos Islands is like taking a slow-motion swan dive into the infinity rock-pool of the cosmos. You rise out of the hell that is Guayaquil – with its horrendous infestation of … More The Scum Also Rises… Galapagos Diary # 2
If you’re on the path to peace, you’ll find out pretty quick that those be shark-infested waters! A guide for toe-dipping, the Curse of Darwin and who’s who in the spiritual zoo. Twenty years’ down the road less traveled and that gorgeous, lonely path is now some of the most fought-over real estate on the planet. … More Survival of the Sickest – the mess, the cause and how to fix it.
When you’ve worn out your Havaianas traipsing from yoga to kirtan via every sideshow spruker selling ways to clean your aura, change your diet, flush your poo hole, pump your chakras, cure your cancer – or your sadness – and you’re still not feeling the luurve – it’s finally time… you’re ready my friend, for a holy moment with … More The Shit Whisperer