Perth, Australia

i consider myself to be creatively versatile. / areas i dabble in … photography, digital art, drawing, manipulations, writing, etc.

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featured n the avante-gard art group! ta.

for my dad’s funeral / eulogy / elegy

for my dad’s funeral / eulogy / elegy

(wrote this a couple of nights ago, perusing retro photos)

Last night I was glancing over & studying images of my young parents.
Contemplating their adventures, their secrets,
Grinning in wonder.
I am nourished by this.
I love my family.
For all our differences, likes, dislikes.
I am proud of my parents.
The complex job they’ve done, with all the hussle n’ bussle…
We all turned out ok.
I think that is a measure of success.
Our parents, mum & dad; did done good.
Thank you mum & dad.

(I wrote this on my flight to Melbourne, to tend to dad, after being informed of his passing)

An indifferent world. Strangers. Absence.
Something I observe, at the commencement of my journey.
“Business or pleasure?” He asks.
“Neither.” I reply.
Stating my reason for domestic travel at such a late hour. He stilled his lip.

‘Where is everyone going? What are they doing? How many of you fetch your father’s bloodless body?’ The shell that contained him. That was him.

If only he were there. Within a crust less incomplete. Soon to be dust. To rejoin the stars, the earth & us…
We will bring him home, for that is where the heart is. Love, security, sanctuary.

I know that I need to embrace you. To lay my flesh upon yours. To press my blood filled temperate lips upon your cool casing.

“What’s wrong?”
They said.
“Are you ok?”
‘Where have your eyes been! Do you not scan my pages of musings!
He is dead.
My dad…’

The pain of the arm rest digging into my back, as I’m lucky enough to elongate my legs across several seats; is dulled by the hot & cold flushes & yet, dulled again by the task & travel at hand.
I write to myself. I babble. A tear or three streams lines into my foundation. I’m weary & I’d like to sleep. Not possible.

I will continue to be me, one of his creations.
He isn’t entirely gone, for he lives on through us; myself, my family…my children.
I will breathe. That is what I can do.

We will glance at the stars, feel the earth, we will breathe him into our soul. Tiny particles. Atoms.

I observe the scene beyond my airbus window. Undulating clouds anointed & illuminated, dressed by the moon. Sparkling stars voluminous in the sky above.
I pause and envy the beauty.
Hi dad; I say, I’m coming…

written by vampvamp
(rip my beautiful dad)

featured in the creative talented & unknown group…merci… xo

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