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Friday, November 17, 2006

A Reporter Did An Article On Me As An Urban Outsider Artist With Schizophrenia, Thus I Made The Montreal "Mirror" In Their Publication

As a struggling Artist that have defined myself as an Urban Outsider Artist with schizophrenia, I am proud to say that I had an article done on me by a reporter from the Montreal Mirror, it was quite the experience being interviewed and photographed! Small mercies come in mysterious ways as I have learned in my life, I was taking my cigarette break on the front steps of the building where I have a cleaning and maintenance contract for my company, a stranger asking for a light for his own cigarette really lite up my life. (Do not smoke like us, cigarettes are health hazards) Chris Barry, the reporter from the Montreal Mirror, was walking by in front of the building where I work, I had taken my smoke break at the right time! After firing up his cigarette for him, I told him I had something else for him as well. I reached into my inner pocket and took out my Loto Quebec folder, which I use for my own purpose, as a carry case for the book marks I distribute promoting my Internet presence and I gave him one of my book marks. After smoozing for a bit, he identified himself and told me he would like to do an article on me for the Mirror. The result was instilled thrill in me, the Mirror is an up and up publication that covers a fair bit of the art World here in Montreal. Chris does an article on different Montrealers every week, since he wrote about me, I started to be a regular reader of his article and the paper on the whole. I guess I used to brush through the paper too easily and miss a lot of good content, all these Montrealers with a cause or something, that I could have know about if I had just read more of the Mirror in the past. Here is the link to the article that Chris did on me, it was a different way of coming out of the closet with my schizophrenic issues.

Wednesday, November 08, 2006

Unearthed Some Old Poetry/Pros To Reflect On Part Of My Character

While being in touch with my Cousin from the Southern States, I started to share some of my poetry with her and decided to post a few poems to reflect on part of my out look during different phases in my life. The first poem was written in high schoo,l while I was young and ambitious and not yet enduring the life in the Mental Health System. The original version was lost back in early 1996 when I was hospitaized and my parents had to close up my apartment. At the time I had compiled a binder of different style writings which accidentally went to the Salvation Army with other old books. This version was written from memory when I started writing again around late 1996, it reads more or less the same.

The Treasure

Seeking a treasure like you

Is where I find myself now

Drawing on my heart's desire for it is you I would like to acquire

Because I seek a treasure like you

Love is a big chest of dreams

Locking away pure thoughts of passion

Mutually drawing within hearts' desire

For it is there that I will acquire

Such a profound treasure like like you

Are you seeking a treasure like me

Is this where you find yourself now

For is it me, you would like to acquire

Because I seek a treasure like you


It was around 1996, before I went into hospital, I wrote this following piece of creative work. I drew a piece of art dealing the subject of a hand that I wore around my neck in my youth to complement the writing. I had did the wood carving myself and always had a close attachment to it, from personal memory about its inspiration. This piece was also re-written once I started writing again after loosing the original with my binder.

The Mystical Hand Of Power

The long lost mystical hand of power

Is tattooed within the faith of time its self

Surrounded by a chain of humanary words

By the influence of the guiding light of each and every day

Symbolic of inborn mystical power

Creating and destroying life as we do

We forget that for every act, the mystical hand reacts

Surrounded by the ultimate chain of command

By the powers at hand that guide our nightly dreams

Hence for we create many a mystical way

Symbolic of a mirrored tattoos fate

The multitude of brands of power there is

Locked within faith and time it makes its own tattoo

Surrounded by the many hands of a humanary chain

If only we were truly able to define ourselves

By living by the tides of night and day

Hence forth we use our hands to pray

Symbolic of a guided mystical hand tattooing our fate


I can not remember when I wrote this next piece, it was sometime during my writing spree in 1996, it was my craving at the time to make a binder of writings from personal thoughts again, the artistic process really started coming forth in me during this time period, with me putting paint brush to canvas ten years ago this year.

The Forests Of Life

For what seemed like endless fort-nights

My growth was always stumped by these looming shadows over me

Casting their ill fated dominance over me

A thistle where it should be

Fending for its self in all the entangled growth

I survived this and that along with the inexact

And the hatchet from a passer by or two nicked me here and there

Licked my wounds and held my soil

Wondering when I'd have a thorny side kick

To share my survival plot of soil

Pollen blowing in the wind through the woods

Taking a mystical traveling trail

Like an out of body experience, seeing but not seeing

The pecullar thistle found his personal light

Lost but not in his own oasis in time

Searching for what was lost

To control the under growth in the mist

Of the hilly rocky rising path

That leads to the sky above

To grow in the forest of life

Then one day this forest mole brought a root to my soil bed

And somehow it got dropped and buried besides my warmth

I felt in my soul that I would have my thorny entanglement out of this

A compatible colourful rose I would hope would grow

While entangling our vibes of growth

Making our own picture in time

Locked away in the secrets of the forest of life

The union of entangled loving growth

In our own little forest of life


This following creation was written through inspiration from a photograph I took of Cardiff Castle in Wales. The way the trees were growing and shaped when I took the photograph, it looked like I captured faces in the trees and wrote about it.

Faces In The Trees

My castle walls stand high and proud

They protect all my secret treasures

Even if they are only my flowering court yard

And the water well that sits in its mists

The simple castle can become a fortress

When faces linger in the trees over the moat

Oh for the God forsaken faces in the trees

The haunting look of the dreaded wild

Formed through the growth of their leaves

Like a howling force in the night

Down upon my precious castle walls

The castle moat holds its own demons galore

Buried from I don't know where

For they too come blowing in the wind

And trapped in my shallows of the deep

To protect my brick work of my walls

So things from yonder get kept out that we don't want

How do you keep out all the forces of life

They seep in through the cracks in the foundations

And causing chilling drafts through the cellar of my mind

Fair is fair for I do go out in the forces of life

To gaze upon the faces in the trees

And then the leaves whisper among themselves

As much as I have my own eyes to see

So do the faces in the trees

But who sees who for what purpose

I know what I see but I can't help but see

But I know where I find my retreat

In my humble sanctuary in my castle walls


I wrote this little piece when my life was was going down hill not so long ago, before I gained control of my life again in the recent past with my present life style of being an Artist/Writer.

Buffer Zone

I found my little forest of life

And it grew in the inner city

A modest little comfort buffer zone

That we commonly call our home

The hatchet came here too

Like a dark thunder cloud's shadow

Hovering where it should not

The laws of the forest are a keep sake

Locked away in the heart of those that dwell in her

Causing nightmares in the under growth and shrubbary


I wrote this following some time ago as I way trying to heal from emotional wounds, I guess it helped me at the time, the pen soothing the soul with selected words, enjoy!

The Holy Grail

A supposed gifted man drank from a cup

During a supper that was his last

The gifted man bore his cross

And the cup lingers in the memory of man

The story spans many a life time

And the cup became the "Holy Grail"

Pursued for its healing powers within

And the cup lingers in the memory of man

Some say it is hidden away

Others speak of it getting lost in time and warring

Is it really the ace of all cups passed our way

Because a supposed gifted man drank from the cup in question

Odds to double odds, cups will dribble with rimming spillage

Rings of time found in wooden cups

Illustrate the power that can be found within

So we have the symbol of the "Holy Grail"

Can time its self launch another such cup

Or can another gifted man forge such a cup

To channel the powers of the wise

Bringing forth the healing powers within

Time is a great healer its self

And time also takes our life away

If the "Holy Grail" is lost in time

I heal by the powers found within the symbol of such a cup


The poetry or pros that I posted in this blog entry, reflect on different stages in my life and my writings are the written history of my thoughts and feeling about those parts of my life. Putting letters together and making words, developing those words into sentences, was always a very big part of my life. I hope the reader enjoys the selected writings, sometimes we can be for ever healing!