However, the regression to one of my past lives was quickly over. I was back in the bus, in floods of tears, with one thought going throu…
My trip to Arizona which had some painful spiritual repercussions
Children stare into the moonlit night / Hoping to see Santa on his flight.
Published in a book called Christmas Cracker in 1994. My husband Andy has created some Christmas cards for Redbubble, some based on this poem.
My hope is that my son will not learn about his dad through this story.
“ Andy’s story reveals a quietly courageous and resilient man. / He recognises that cancer is just one element of his life and that even it has benefits – like helping to clarify life’s priorities and deepen relationships with family and friends. / He also recognises that his family and friends are living with the same tension he is. It’s not all that easy to see the positives or to be thinking of others when you’re living with the uncertainty of cancer. Andy seems to achieve that. His story is inspirational “ / Barry Leigh / (Author and melanoma survivo
“Andy Warhol painted famous people in a heavily stylized and bright colored manner. He painted famous people. Danny and I? We make fam…
In a perfect Marxist nation, a couple high school artists find their own niche in an otherwise bland world and begin to create more than just art.
PP-Bio: POEM By Andrew j Bohman / Sydney Australia 02 9613 3700 The Water ran clear and cold, the warm sun was shining through the gu…
PP-Bio: POEM By Andrew j Bohman / Sydney Australia 02 9613 3700 The Water ran clear and cold, the warm sun was shining through the gum trees, / and a warm Breeze whistled through the hundred river oaks, they creak and / groan in the wind. / The ghosts of old gold miners haunt the wind, / a goanna looks at a birds nest in the ghost gum, / trout swim by in spawn, there is a Quartz vein outcrop, just over the hill, / near Rabbit hollow,and a termite mound still fresh, / past miners & trappers still haunt the Merroo, / there is an unfamiliar chill when you sit by the red wood fire, the fire / burns long into the night, / taking the charm of the merroo spirits, there are Aboriginal tree markings / from 3000 years ago, / the age and time we cannot erase, www.motherearthbalance.wetpaint.com / motherearthbalance@gmail.com
Where do I begin. Well I guess its got to be a big thank you to Linda Morrison. Linda was last weeks image of the week in the group forma…
The familiar ebb and flow of his voice had flattened into a mumbled slur that hid all but the words, “sorry” and “you’re in”.
Doodlers of the world unite,
The radiance that you carve into my failings / My friend, you are so incredibly alive
December is proving to be an interesting month.. Three works featured at the same time by the same group ? Take me to Cuba...
Buyer from Canada Dec 08 / “the print…OMG!...it’s stunning..I almost absconded with it for myself!! I bought it for my son for Christmas….
Passing of a dear friend. Member of RB and EF
Photographing with the Angels
I can set you free
I am The Andy Price!!! HAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!!!!!
DO YOU STILL BELIEVE IN CASTLES BY THE SEA AND / US, WRAPPED IN AN OLD BLANKET / UNDISTURBED BY THE VISITING RELENTLESS SURF / THAT CLAMBER…
THE GOING ELSEWHERE IN STRANGE DIRECTIONS. / HOW LONG BEFORE TIME, THE THIEF OF LIFE, / BETRAYS US MORTALS INTO SUBMISSION / AND DISTANT…
As fun as it was, eventually the party ran out of puff. One of them thrust his face close. “Is there anything,” he hissed, “that you wou…
A short story about an annoying travel companion. On the backpacking road, you meet some “interesting” people. Meet Andy.
The Andy Award is my occasional award for jolly spiffing excellent art.
“a man like me would never contest the shit that he gets, So there I was Scrawling a suicide note on the back of a pack of cigarettes.”
one new years whilst i was absolutely fried i met a man under a pooltable… and this is… sort of… what transpired.
“Mirror mirror on the wall, well scratched up and vandalized, no real reflection there at all, I saw face, but I couldn’t see my face”
Hmmm, this the a classic tale of a dodgy drug dealer. it does happen. always be carefull… or just don’t touch the stuff… i don’t anymore
Chase / The night pulses with an invisible weight and plumes of smoke swirl and play together through the air, the band inside isn’t hal…
written in collaboration with Andy Hair Candy. hopefully me posting this will kick his ass into gear to do his seeing as I sent this to him almost two weeks ago.
All that fucking changes is the depressing reality that I can’t commit crimes anymore… for fear of serious penalty
thought i’d type up this entry… i’m not sure why. / can someone tell me?
I was thrown straight down and thrust back up / And made a mess somewhere in-between
i decided to elaborate on some dot points describing a feeling and got carried away. does anyone know what the protaginist is on? any guesses? (your real savvy hunter S thompson types will get it)
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