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Her Wisdom reflects Her zest
and love of life, tempered by the Shadow of Death in Her Continous Battle
with Cystic Fibrosis. She had a lung transplant this September. Carly and the men in her life21st BirthdayOur joyful friendship and communications over the years has been inspirational. The 30 by 36 painting Beyond Moongate was painted for her, as were two other paintings in her collection. While in Australia in June of 97, with the help of 17 of her close friends, including my sons Jonathan and Christopher, a unique painting was started of her special friend, the Lone Cypress along the 17 Mile drive. Later that year, around New Years, I flew back to Australia for Carly's 21st birthday bash. I enlisted the aid of the 71 people there to help create another painting for Carly, expressing the love of all of us for Carly. This 36 by 36 inch painting was a bit more difficult as some of the willing hands were a bit high from raising their glasses in toasts to Carly, the Tattoo Lady. |
Have you ever...
seen a light beaming with inspiration ?
Have you ever...
walked along a beach,
only to hear the waves crashing upon the rocks ?
Have you ever...
been so hurt,
that you wanted to drive a knife through your heart ?
Have you ever...
felt so alone,
that you wanted to break free and run for eternity ?
Have you ever...
been so happy,
that you wanted to cry tears of joy ?
Have you ever...
been so tragically depressed,
that you yearned for some magic or something
similar to a miracle ?
Have you ever...
watched the sunrise o'er that ocean,
on a summers day ?
Have you ever...
seen a full moon,
in all its powdery and silvery reflective glory ?
Have you ever...
lived ?
Into this world he's subdued.
Into a battle
unable to conquer.
Born into a poppy - filled hell.
Like a morning star -
waiting for the sun to rise.
Eager to appear.
But oh! First light
comes into distance,
and soon all is in focus.
A flash of lighting.
It was the flashbulb of his life.
Bright - not like the dying embers of -
Death.
His time has come.
The universe is enlightened
by his being.
A new star has
shot through the sky.
I'm here.
Living. Breathing. Heartbeat. Crying.
Here.
A photograph. A picture.
Chemicals develop the image.
Carved into the realms of your mind.
Brings you back ;
to that time.
A photograph. A picture.
Says a thousand words
with a million granules.
Will they come alive ?
Into your mind ?
Can you hear them ?
Or is it just a photo ?
Means nothing to you ?
Or is it everything ?
RIP IT UP NOW.
The sound of a tree blowing,
or the sight of a child growing
makes me think about the world in which I live.
To know that she is in the tree
and blowing in the wind,
or to see that she is part of the colours
that form the Rainbows end ;
makes me wonder why I'm here.
To know that I am here on earth,
and she is over there ;
not reaching, not touching, not saying a word,
but knowing that she is part of earth, sea and sky ;
makes me cry.
To see that people have no idea,
to know that they don't care,
or to know that I can't be with her
until I am with her there ;
makes me feel empty.
Throw forward creativity,
abandon all concerns.
Throw caution to the wind ;
let the flag of conformity burn.
We need to be free and liberal,
to express our feelings fair.
For to create art and give it life,
is to make common, something rare.
I know myself ; express my art,
through the avenues I know how.
It feels as though I'm free and flying ;
ascending higher by the hour.
To create is to conceive.
To conceive is to create.
I express my life through words and clues ;
they are my aeroplane.
If you should find it in your heart,
to write, to paint, to dance.
Then follow your dream and make it real,
before you lose your chance.
I've begun a revolution ;
a 'new age' ; a different world,
where life has meaning and wonderment,
where the colours merge and swirl.
This world has no compass,
a non - directional focus.
No north, south, east or west,
we fly about like locusts.
We are merely individuals,
who have no need to strive.
Our ambitions filled, our dreams made real,
our wishes granted ; we thrive.
If by chance you stumble
upon this dreamland idyll,
stay a while, imagine and think
about the desire that you now feel.
See if you yearn and seek
for better things to come ;
and if you remain with me long enough,
you will solve this cryptic sum.
With the wind howling and wuthering,
and the river raging and rolling,
to become a part of nature,
or a part of Gods calling,
would be wondrous in its own,
to shimmer like the moon,
and to glow like the stars,
in the sky in which they loom.
Or to look out oe'r the ocean,
and to see the whale breach,
or the deer to gallop close to you,
or a unicorn within your reach.
Would you feel as close to God,
if you were not his creation ?
Or to talk or run in fields with him,
and accept his condemnations ?
For the next time your imagination canters
through the mazes of your mind,
just remember the learning process
and it will be ours in time.
As I walk through these dimmed and empty halls,
fear and isolation sets in.
My footsteps echo as I walk and ;
my heart skips a vital beat.
I hear music though growing ever - distant,
as memories float past like ;
a cloud of cosmic dust and ;
as they gradually pass me by,
I sense the far - off call ;
of my now heaven bound friends
Passing the room,
where music and memories were created.
Entry in my life is indicated,
as I once again relish the feel,
of the floor ;
with my rough and callous feet.
I turn ; only to discover,
the near -ancient markings on the wall.
An accident, never meant to be done,
though now an inscription on the wall of my life.
Perhaps fate intervened and enacted its celestial powers.
It's getting darker now,
light is vanishing rapidly.
I don't want to leave, however ;
I must walk out on these precious memories.
Memories are like feelings, emotions.
Mine are robust and ever strong.
They waft into my life ;
like the aroma of fresh rain ;
after a vigorous and violent storm.
And most of the time recover into,
wondrous, marvellous thoughts.
Trapped in a time warp like stance,
like a time bomb - ticking ;
waiting to be forgotten,
though they never explode.
They just continue tick - tick - ticking away ;
unaware and oblivious ;
to the minds nature of Amnesia -
however temporary it may be.
These rooms ; abundant with memories.
The anatomy of my mind ;
the epitome of my life,
drop to the lowest sector
in the pit of my stomach.
Time is calling softly, gracefully
for me to leave.
I must now let go of the memories
which fill my life to the brim.
Like wine, I have experienced
the sweet taste of victory and ;
of suicidal pacts,
made by past, present and future friends,
and enemies no longer part of my life.
But now as I walk in deaths dark vale,
one by one my past mates appear -
beckoning for me to come with them.
I want to - Oh how I want to.
And as a white light
comes into sight, I now realise,
it's my time to go and venture -
further into the Unknown.
I am not afraid of this tunnel.
My friends are here to lead the way.
They've been this way before.
Now it's my turn -
and as the white light picks me up
with its glowing aura,
I have died and been born ;
into a world to carry out after - death missions
I have not reached the end -
but the beginning of my reign.
