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LETTERS TO GABRIEL
For Gabriel:
My Best Friend
A Warrior Who Always Stood By Myside
My Brother
The First And Greatest Believer In And My Artistry
INTRODUCTION:
The greatest gift I was given as a child was being raised without fear
One has to take risks, one has to love oneself and have the courage to ride that ghost into uncharted territory and in this quest I have been fueled by the blistering desire to make it somehow.
The Immortals die when the eyes of the world are upon them.
Jesus was the first rock star The cross is the biggest greatest piece of merchandise in history bigger than any concert T-shirt And Jesus was the first dead rock star. Like Jim Morrison and Kurt Cobain and Jimi Hendrix, he became immortal by dying.
A dead rock star becomes perfect, and he'll be that forever.
He'll never change, never get old, never turn into something less great than at his peak at the moment of his death.
It's not just death that turns you into an icon It's how many people are watching when you die and the way the camera can turn you into a martyr.
Jesus, John Lennon and John Kennedy We're not just fascinated with death
We're in love with death because we are so afraid of it And the people who live their lives close to death or who die tragically are the ones we're going to fantasize about the most
It is escapism, it's voyeurism, it's living vicariously Or dying vicariously
It's not just death that turns you into an icon
It's how many people are watching when you die ...
Christ, Lennon, and Kennedy were all killed in such dramatic ways.
I think that's half of why people have sainted them because they love violence
they love the drama of it all.
John F. Kennedy, Jesus Christ and John Lennon.
Figures as revolutionaries who fell victim to mankind's obsession with and focus on violence.
What happens your revolution not only doesn't change the world
Unless eyes are watching when you meet your demise.
We’ve numbed ourselves to pain and no longer seek a proper understanding of the cycle of life and death.
I came across
Jim Harrison’s book "Letters to Yesenin"
A gripping and desperate correspondence in the form of daily prose poems to a Russian poet who had committed suicide back in the 1920s.
I began writing poems & letters to my friend Gabriel as a way of exploring all that has happened in the world and what I’d been through my experience of life as it is now without him.
My inner demons, personal means on death, heart break, anger, despair come into play.
I’m talking to myself really But I found Gabriel to be the perfect muse.
In life as you grow up you make friends and alot of friendships end in betrayal as sad as it is too say the people we grow up with from children to adulthood just like in war enemies we're drawn & alliances made but me and Gabriel stuck together
What bonded us was music & drugs
He was someone who intellectually understood rock & roll the way I did and we had the same messed up childhood
Someone I admired immensely & Who i looked up to everyday
Sadly his life was cut short
young & talented whom I wanted so badly to help escape certain people
I see these poems & letters
as songs
A fifty-two-card pickup, presented in the order in which they came In no way do I intend to glorify or romanticize Gabriel's chosen way of life nor make light of it it
Nor do I mean to demonize Michelle.
Though my frustration comes through these letters did not arise from vengeance
On the contrary I thought if I could sort out my struggles and disappointments, face my demons, become more aware of the ways in which I attempt to escape this troubled world
There is no way out of course
But there is a way in back to our trueselves our connection to the earth, the universe, to each other.
I feel ready to embark on a new journey.
The previous one has been beautiful, heartbreaking, and hilarious and then maybe i could finally accept the fact that he is really gone.
The last conversation we had with each other
We sat in my room comforting me as I broke down holding me, playing music and after he said to me
“Real life is way more fucked up than you could ever imagine" closing his eyes as he leaned back
My response to that
"Who knows if we open the mouth of the dead
inside each one of us we may just find a new reason to live"
Looking at me with a look of shock he smiled at me
And began to cry
We always understood each other.
There are losses we never recover from Instead we abide them going through the mundane business of our days while our pain tirelessly marathons alongside.
© All Rights Reserved
My Best Friend
A Warrior Who Always Stood By Myside
My Brother
The First And Greatest Believer In And My Artistry
INTRODUCTION:
The greatest gift I was given as a child was being raised without fear
One has to take risks, one has to love oneself and have the courage to ride that ghost into uncharted territory and in this quest I have been fueled by the blistering desire to make it somehow.
The Immortals die when the eyes of the world are upon them.
Jesus was the first rock star The cross is the biggest greatest piece of merchandise in history bigger than any concert T-shirt And Jesus was the first dead rock star. Like Jim Morrison and Kurt Cobain and Jimi Hendrix, he became immortal by dying.
A dead rock star becomes perfect, and he'll be that forever.
He'll never change, never get old, never turn into something less great than at his peak at the moment of his death.
It's not just death that turns you into an icon It's how many people are watching when you die and the way the camera can turn you into a martyr.
Jesus, John Lennon and John Kennedy We're not just fascinated with death
We're in love with death because we are so afraid of it And the people who live their lives close to death or who die tragically are the ones we're going to fantasize about the most
It is escapism, it's voyeurism, it's living vicariously Or dying vicariously
It's not just death that turns you into an icon
It's how many people are watching when you die ...
Christ, Lennon, and Kennedy were all killed in such dramatic ways.
I think that's half of why people have sainted them because they love violence
they love the drama of it all.
John F. Kennedy, Jesus Christ and John Lennon.
Figures as revolutionaries who fell victim to mankind's obsession with and focus on violence.
What happens your revolution not only doesn't change the world
Unless eyes are watching when you meet your demise.
We’ve numbed ourselves to pain and no longer seek a proper understanding of the cycle of life and death.
I came across
Jim Harrison’s book "Letters to Yesenin"
A gripping and desperate correspondence in the form of daily prose poems to a Russian poet who had committed suicide back in the 1920s.
I began writing poems & letters to my friend Gabriel as a way of exploring all that has happened in the world and what I’d been through my experience of life as it is now without him.
My inner demons, personal means on death, heart break, anger, despair come into play.
I’m talking to myself really But I found Gabriel to be the perfect muse.
In life as you grow up you make friends and alot of friendships end in betrayal as sad as it is too say the people we grow up with from children to adulthood just like in war enemies we're drawn & alliances made but me and Gabriel stuck together
What bonded us was music & drugs
He was someone who intellectually understood rock & roll the way I did and we had the same messed up childhood
Someone I admired immensely & Who i looked up to everyday
Sadly his life was cut short
young & talented whom I wanted so badly to help escape certain people
I see these poems & letters
as songs
A fifty-two-card pickup, presented in the order in which they came In no way do I intend to glorify or romanticize Gabriel's chosen way of life nor make light of it it
Nor do I mean to demonize Michelle.
Though my frustration comes through these letters did not arise from vengeance
On the contrary I thought if I could sort out my struggles and disappointments, face my demons, become more aware of the ways in which I attempt to escape this troubled world
There is no way out of course
But there is a way in back to our trueselves our connection to the earth, the universe, to each other.
I feel ready to embark on a new journey.
The previous one has been beautiful, heartbreaking, and hilarious and then maybe i could finally accept the fact that he is really gone.
The last conversation we had with each other
We sat in my room comforting me as I broke down holding me, playing music and after he said to me
“Real life is way more fucked up than you could ever imagine" closing his eyes as he leaned back
My response to that
"Who knows if we open the mouth of the dead
inside each one of us we may just find a new reason to live"
Looking at me with a look of shock he smiled at me
And began to cry
We always understood each other.
There are losses we never recover from Instead we abide them going through the mundane business of our days while our pain tirelessly marathons alongside.
© All Rights Reserved
