AFTER
by
Sharron Rose
with
Michael R. Burch
AFTER is a book of channelings of
“Bomer“ (Richard Manzullo) by his mother Sharron (Sharry) Rose. Bomer was a legendary musician, composer, lyricist, performer,
poet, actor, and former lead singer of the infamous hardcore punk rock band
RKL [Rich Kids on
LSD], who left his human body on December 12, 2005. The latest channelings are
published first, after which interested reader can learn more about Bomer's
life, death and art by exploring AFTER. Bomer's words appear in italics. The
non-italicized words are Sharry's, unless specifically denoted otherwise.
Latest Channelings:
In answer to the question of whether earth is a "penal colony":
Well, in a way—Earth is a penal colony—but we are
seduced by the Beauty of nature and our
accomplishments—including art and music. We all
tend to take Earth too seriously, not believing
(truly) in AFTER. Earth is a test, a laboratory,
what we see and experience is like a living
hologram—it is not REAL—as is AFTER. You see—the
beings who inhabit AFTER are capable of many
performances and miracles we cannot comprehend.
EARTH truly is a stage ... Love, Bomer (October 1, 2009)
Mike—yes—it does seem like a penal colony—Earth did seem that way for me, so
much that it became unbearable. There are still unanswered questions in the
realms I now have freedom to explore—but the exploring is quite wonderful and I
seldom dwell or even think about what was—on EARTH. It's not perfect where I am
now—but the "system" here—dare I call it that??? is far more compassionate and
loving and SANE. I am experiencing an evolutionary process, also—especially
since I (presumably) committed suicide. That's a "SIN?" Don't believe it. It's a
mistake—perhaps. All in all, everything is good here, much better than Earth
Baggage Life. But I do understand now that I am in transition, and have many
more lives to live. It is wonderful here, all in all, but not perfect. I still
think of Earth and my relationships, sometimes with longing—but it is not
painful longing. Does this make any sense?. I have all of eternity before me in
which to "perfect" my skills, which mostly concern relationships with others and
making each realm a better place before I graduate to the next "realm". There is
eternity—but it is not "stasis"—Eternity moves on and forward and upward, our
learning , especially our loving, learning to love—that process never stops —so
it gets better, have "faith", Mike. You and my Mom.—It just keeps getting
better here as I continue to learn about LOVE and the nature of where I am and
why. I have not completely ascended—that's for sure. I'm in an evolutionary
process that apparently never ends—at least that's what the Others tell me. We
DO live eternally. Always learning and evolving. It's a lot more complex than
what I expected—now that I've been "out of body" for awhile. But the potential
for creative experimentation and joy is indescribable—and the LOVE we know here
is quite unlike Earth Love—it is truly unconditional. Thanks for hearing me,
Mike. My Mom is typing and she's kind of disappointed because she thought when
we "died" we went to some kind of permanent unchanging rapturous place. Know
this—change is ongoing forever in AFTER. (Sept. 25, 2009)
On the subject of mental illness:
Bomer says, "In the years ahead, including this one—we will be seeing more
and more mental illness, and the prison industry will flourish even more than
now, hospitals as well." He said the time of transformation is near for
many of us." Yesterday, and day before, a voice unlike any other kept repeating
to me, "PRAY! PRAY!" It was not Bomer speaking. It was another Voice. I think
Bomer means that "transformation" will occur slowly, according to each
individual. That we will not suddenly all be "lifted up to Heaven in The
Rapture." I don't know ... That is all symbolic anyhow—perhaps giant
spaceships???
On a mysterious poem:
I came across this poem written for you by Bomer on
some older-looking paper. I don't think I ever typed
it for you (though I might have). It's kind of
touching. Titled: "For Mike" ... It was written, I
believe, quite a while ago. Not in my handwriting.
It was Bomer's handwriting, I am certain, but how
could that be?
FOR MIKE
I knelt before the sea
Not yet an Angel ...
stroking restless feathers
that would quiver anyhow.
I wanted to embrace the sun
and stars, all purply here—
yet quieted. Bright as Love.
In one instant I knew
and understood that I
was meant to fly,
even without a thought of God.
Mike—We are the Wild Boys!
We left before our time.
Come closer, and I
will tell you everything!
Love, Bomer
(Thanks for helping my Mom.)
About Bomer's art, to be completed by his mother:
If you will look closely at my
last paintings created during the year before my "so
called suicide"—you will see what I saw within the
AFTERLIFE—which is what my paintings are about.
Look very closely and you will understand more about AFTER.
Sharry:
Before I forget—Bomer had underpainted in bright rose colors with some
designs a canvas which he has instructed me to finish. It's real big—his
last painting. Presumably I'm to channel something thru his art ... Bomer seems
very strong and assertive, as a personality. He seems to know where he's
going and has a "mission". This takes so much time I have no time for me.
Perhaps the painting ... will help ... don't know what I sent and did not
send. Re: ANGELS .:. I keep the TV on softly to ground myself ... This
came in Sept. 20 [2009]. Sept. 25 is my birthday. His was July 19. BOMER says
(don't know if I sent this) barely can read it.—He says there are infinite
species of "Angels"—(other beings?) ... many species of Angels inhabit our universe and all universes are
inhabited by ... "beings"—we'll call them Angels. They may or may not be
visible ... " he says—such vast distances even psychically you may not have
heard me trying to get through. Infinity, Space, is of course endless. (He
said he saw me once as if through a microscope.) "You were wanting to leave
your human form as I left mine—a faint hearted suicide". True. I
experienced his feelings of wanting suicide, of the actual beginning of
Death—amazing—and then I pulled myself out of it—it was as if I had
become Bomer. The sensations were such I cannot describe, Mike. (September 23,
2009)
On the question of whether we can be harmed as non-material beings:
Mike—Bomer here. In answer to your questions—not
having a body helps ... it's less stressful than having one—that's for
sure. As for Who is responsible in deciding what humans come back to
Earth and so on—there isn't any "who" or anyone in charge. It's
an ... ENERGY. I feel It often just makes random decisions. Now, to say
that "God" would make random or careless decisions would be to
personalize such events. There is much in the universes that is RANDOM.
In ALL of the universes. There is Energy, many varying Energies. On
Earth I believed GOD and JESUS were the only ENERGIES. Now I know there
are many. As humans we want to give what is confusing or unknown to us a
NAME. It's not so important in the other Universes. Of course, I'm new
at this. I haven't visited so many universes yet as I will. When I first
explored the system AFTER I arrived, it was very confusing. It still is.
There is so much to learn and I am new to these billions of Universes. I
will say these words which have been said on Earth—"The greatest of
These is LOVE." In this instant, far, far from all that was
familiar—I FEEL LOVE. A LOVE BEYOND DESCRIPTION. A bit like the LOVE my
mother experienced in Spain. A LOVE NOT OF ONLY EARTH, BUT OF ALL THE
UNIVERSES. Perhaps that is why people say GOD IS LOVE. Perhaps "God"
is LOVE. All the Various Gods people believe in are LOVE. What do you
think, Mike? (September 26, 2009)
Mike: I suppose "It's hard to complain, but sometimes I still do," as the
song goes. If God is Love and goes around creating life willy-nilly, so that
trillions of living beings end up suffering and dying on planets like Earth, and
the only time we're really safe and happy is when we don't have bodies, in
AFTER, that seems to make God (or whatever "Energies" we call God) sort of a
lackluster incompetent, at best. For anyone who hates and despises suffering, as
I do, it would seem better for God not to create worlds where there is such
suffering, and everyone dies in the end.
Hi Mike—This is Bomer. I have no discomfort of any kind since my
passing- my death. Prior to my death I had
excruciating pain from a back surgery, emotional
pain. fear—and I felt unloved (except by my
Mother.) Although I was successful as a performer
and musician—it gave me little joy—because
what I wanted was to be loved by the One I
loved. That love was not forthcoming. I used
drugs, prescription and otherwise, because of a
"bi-polar" condition that was acute and painful
and unpredictable. I had unendurable pain from a
back injury which required surgery. My Mother Sharry, was in the car with me when we
crashed and she has had pain and a problematic
head injury [as a result]. We were closer than any two could
be. Yes—the body is the problem here on Earth.
It seems when the body is comfortable and
without fear or pain, the Soul relaxes and is
content. We ARE SOULS in bodies—but the bodies
and the abuse of Earth's environment and
its stressors cause the Soul to SCREAM and
experience great anguish. I am glad to be free
of Earth. I am happy to be free of my
earth body, I have an etheric body now which is
perfect and I am happy. I do not know pain any
longer. EARTH LIFE is pain. There is some pain
for everyone, but many, like myself, are unable
to endure our EMOTIONS and their
consequences—so we leave Earth—one way or
another. My way was an "accidental suicide" and
it was my way out of Hell on Earth. I am peaceful now. Yet I will
always remember being HUMAN. Trust me when I
tell you this—the Human Condition is the most
difficult to endure. AFTER was my choice.
It was time to leave Earth. My Mother understands
this and longs to eave Earth peacefully, gently
without pain, and permanently. She has seen
enough and lived enough. She is nearly finished,
you know. (September 24, 2009)
Mike: No, I don't "know" such things.
Sharry:
Bomer says that NOT having a body gives great freedom and peace and
he knows that no one, nothing can harm him. He, and all others who
have crossed, are eternally protected, eternally evolving. I say we'll probably
feel a lot better without bodies to worry about. We'll have all of our loved
ones ... sounds good to me. (September 23, 2009)
More on the nature of God (unconditional Love) and AFTER:
Sharry: He [Bomer] was talking about things I couldn't really understand. He did
say there is a "God-like" loving presence of unconditional Love
everywhere and there are billions of galaxies and there is no such
thing as fear as he is traveling the universes which apparently are
limitless. There are infinite species of "angels" or
extraterrestrials". Their commonality with us seems to be the
desire to explore and gather information and join together in PEACE
(unlike the mess we have on Earth). Earth, though small, is of
great interest to the "Others" because it is so chaotic, so lacking
in Universal Love. He was speaking when it all became erased--I
suppose I'm to speak for him. He is in a state of wonderment and
unable to speak at present. It does appear that he is wearing some
sort of "suit" or protective device around himself--like an egg--or
an ovum? Is he being born again and again out here? It is hard for
me to channel because I can see what he sees and I am overwhelmed with awe. WHAT
created this---this infinity of worlds that is forever creating more and more
universes? I have to stop now. It's too beautiful. It's everything, everywhere,
all happening at the same instant. It's too much too look at ... (September 22,
2009)
About the gift of an green glass Angel:
My Mother—I have been away for awhile, perhaps you may have noticed. The green glass Angel
that your friend Lucy gave you for your soon-to-be "earth birthday" reminded you
to think of me ... Yes? So you see my foto looking at you from across the room
and I am surrounded with all the Angel Cards Lucy has sent you. She is one of us
who has crossed over many times before and this is her last Earth Experience. It
is your last, also, Mother—and I know you are happy about this. That is
why you must make something more of you life. Treasure each moment. You
will not have to return to Earth! It is important you know there are many
species of Angels, some you have encountered in demonic form, some as pure
Love.! There are dualities in our life—lives—after "Earth Baggage Life" is
done. Be aware of this. There are many so called "heavens". My
Mother—I have been traveling throughout the galaxies, the universes—from such
vast distances you could not hear me speak to you. There is so much here
for ME to learn about. It's very exciting and not unlike the learning journey of
Life except there is no anxiety or suffering during my explorations, as there
would be on Earth. This came in about 9:45 pm AFTER I opened the package
with the green glass Angel from my 87 year old "spiritual Sister"—Lucy.
(September 21, 2009)
On suicide:
Sharry:
I think there are some small dangers to this channeling stuff ... I some of
what I'm writing you have already it's because it came in so fast I can't
read my writing—it looks more like Bomer's writing. I consciously had to
pull myself away from the suicide part and it was difficult. The FEELING of
wanting to "die" ... it was as if everything in me was shutting down and I
had to force my way back to LIFE. Did Bomer just want me to feel what he
felt at the end ... like a machine shutting down with terrible depression. I
felt his thoughts, feelings, suffering. Bomer said I needed to know suicide
is not pleasant. Don't consider it. Bomer says HE took the suicide feelings
from men—he wanted me to know that suicide is not good—not a good way out.
They were his feelings, he said, immediately before he left his body that
day. He continues, "There is no reason for you to pull these feelings
into your beingness just because I did. YOU have to go on (living). It is
time for us to separate—(can't read writing here)—you must not take on my
suffering, Mother" ... something about "You birthed me as you were meant to
and that love will always hold us together".—(I can hardly read this)—"It is important you focus on the Spirituality of Earth and on your
life on Earth. I have left you the painting to complete. Pink is the color
of Birth. It was my last. See what you can do. You must finish this for me
and you must make art again. You must survive. On the canvass you can see a
pattern of energy, as on my other works. Try to decipher it—this energy of
birthing. You must finish this painting NOW. Refine it as only you can ...
you will find words unseen as yet and symbols and I will help you.. Don't
worry, my Mother. You can do this!" (Sept. 20th, 2009)
A Christmas channeling:
The following was channeled on Christmas night, 2008, by Richard “Bomer“ Manzullo, the
deceased lead singer of RKL (“Rich Kids on LSD“), to his mother, Sharron “Sharry“
Rose:
Hello Mom and My Family on Planet Earth!
You think I am dead but I did not die. I have come to you, My Mother Sharry,
to bring you “good tidings“! You think I am dead but I did not die!
There is no Death! Yes, there is the word, and a fleeting instant of
separation from the body that breathes us, that keeps us on this human plane,
and I am telling you now, that in actuality, you will not recognize or be aware
(until that instant happens) that leaving this plane of existence is
BLISS! There is the struggle to hold on to the physical world and all it
represents to you, but when you let go there is only pure bliss. It is ecstatic beyond imagining! Have you ever flown in your dreams?—like an angel? Like
the seagull you imagine you might be related to in some bizarre evolutionary
process you cannot remember?
Oh, it is beautiful, My Mother, to LET GO! I
own my freedom now. I am the God of my own Universe, and It is so beautiful,
because I am everywhere ... simultaneously. This is Bliss! I am with you this
Christmas , with all of my family, though you may busy yourselves into avoidance
of what exists when you sit stilly and alone.
Look at your hands, my Mother;
they are wrinkled now and you do not notice because you are not, at this moment, living in your physical (Earth Baggage World) human body. In this moment
You are living in the AFTER life with me instead. Just for these moments your
Earth World can become an illusion, a beautiful or a somewhat darkened illusion
you have chosen to step into. You are the Creator. Choose as you intend, create
an intention. Your Earth World is all an illusion, a beautiful illusion you have
stepped into, consciously or not, with an equally compelling quality of life that urges you to embrace it.
The darkness, also! And I am not talking about so-called “Evil“, here, but
darkness, as one might seek the earth so dark and nourishing beneath Oneself.
My
Mother, there is no need to be fearful. Fear also is an illusion that your
physical body creates and responds to. So long as you, ALL of you, inhabit Earth
and human form you will not escape discomfort, longing, confusion, agony. But
the LOVE you LIVE and BELIEVE IN, though it often seems to encompass fear and
disillusionment, is your most powerful EMOTION. Your LOVE is what makes you
Human and it is your challenge to embrace and BECOME that emotion, and remain IN
THAT EMOTION as responsibly and frequently and honestly as you possibly are
able. This is your EARTH CHALLENGE, my Mother, and that of all others. To
energize the frequency of LOVE CONTINUALLY. In this way you WILL overcome the negativity that seems so impossibly to have become a part of your humanness. IT
IS POSSIBLE, even as you exist now, My Mother, to evolve beyond the negative
frequencies that surround and enter you unnoticed. IT IS POSSIBLE to
acknowledge them and simply move them away from you.
In order to do this,
however, you must develop your awareness to the degree that you recognize the
negativity you allow into your continuous thinking process. AWARENESS, along
with Love, provides the solution to duality on Earth. You long for Wholeness,
for Love, for Completion by seeking Another to complete YOU. This is the
predicament of those who inhabit EARTH. It is possible to embrace WHOLENESS—to
become Whole, with or without Another. You are Whole and Complete within
yourself, now, my Mother, although you may not believe so. Your “relationship“
is with that greater ENERGY that created your world, and even the farthest
galaxies. That ENERGY is UNCONDITIONAL LOVE. You must live that LOVE, and
embrace it—no easy task!
There is no other Earth like Ours anywhere in the
Universe. To LOVE with such trust and acceptance is truly challenging, and yet,
it is the only way to overcome duality and separation. To become WHOLE, with or
without another, and to remain so. And to LOVE UNCONDITIONALLY. These are
Earth's challenges, my Mother, for you and all humans who inhabit EARTH. What you
accomplish here in terms of LOVE and CONSCIOUSNESS will affect ALL of the
Universes in ALL of the Galaxies. The AFTERLIFE is NOW.
It is time to BEGIN. You are far more complete and able than you can imagine.
You are loved. Every one of you is loved unconditionally in this moment and for
all time. (December 25, 2008)
AFTER
Yes, I am angry enough
to pull a trigger along with each
swear word. To rip the ceiling off
from where I cannot cry. To see
if wind and sky can co-exist within
this shattered space, within which I
must mourn and live and try to sleep.
Son ... Your Jesus does not come to me.
Your Angels do not weep, yet, today
an unnatural bird looked down at me,
linked behind your burial place at sea.
Oh, I was worn, and hard, and rough
and yet that bird looked down on me,
fanned gigantic wings unlike
any other creature, flew sun borne,
and lit the sky.
Introduction
by Sharron Rose
“Bomer“ (Richard Manzullo), legendary musician, composer, lyricist, performer,
poet, actor, and former lead singer of the infamous hardcore punk rock band
RKL [Rich Kids on
LSD], left his human body on December 12, 2005. I, his mother, Sharron Rose,
found him lying peacefully in his garden, clothed immaculately, his face turned
toward the ocean and the shimmering afternoon sun. Bomer had been the leader of
RKL, for which he composed lyrics and music. RKL spanned a generation. Bomer had
also been signed by Epitaph Records (with whom Madonna had also once been
signed). Bomer had retired from RKL some long while before his death, determined
to become a classical musician and to attend The Music Academy in Santa Barbara, California.
Bomer never needed to learn to play any instrument. He played by ear and
intuition only, and he played every instrument amazingly well, while writing
nearly all of the lyrics for his group. Two autopsies were performed and his
untimely death was determined to be “of no cause“. Perhaps Bomer had simply
decided to become an Angel?
LISTENING TO MOZART
for my son Bomer
How wondrous!
This simplistic, brilliant view!
Kumquats strung like amber
among bougainvillea hung fleshy,
hung stilly on branches
etched with intruders—
unspoken flowers—
this one snowy,
a singular luminosity!
My son's silver crutches,
inside his room,
are no less beautiful than grandmother's
exquisite silver,
gone off now with my Gypsy Thief.*
Things disappear!
The nouveau woman lamp
his father gave to me,
arms crossed to hide
her heartwound.
Crows screech
in this suppertime
suburban trap.
Children dance without
underwear. Mothers,
Fathers, I also knew as children,
yap like innocents,
while laughter fills another lawn.
New children, brightened
with inscrutable consciousness.
You—Son—among them!
Outside, bruise-white,
bouganvilla blisters now,
sealing itself up like old letters
against whomever may be watching.
* Gypsy Thief—an old boyfriend who stole antiques from me.
I am Bomer's Earth Mother. I do not know how to adequately explain to readers or myself the
origin of this writing I am now immersed in.
My son died of no discernable cause more than three years ago. I discovered him
lying peacefully in his garden overlooking the ocean in Summerland,
California. He was 38 years old. Several months after Bomer's death, when I began to wake
from the shock, he came to where I was sitting, joked a bit, said, “See you later, Mom!“
and abruptly twirled around, as if performing, then vanished. That was the Beginning. His
“Afterlife Experiences“, as he describes them to me, have become my “work“,
intended for those who may doubt an Afterlife, and for those of us
who fear the inevitable act of Death. Bomer has asked me to bring Peace and
Happiness to as many Humans on Planet Earth as possible, by assuring them of the
existence of “AFTER“, the name Bomer has given his adventures in the Afterlife.
Some readers may be offended that Bomer does not speak of religion or God as might be expected.
He tells simply of a continuum that is his own, sparked with humor, wit, extraordinary vision
and experiences. Bomer was a deeply reverent and spiritual Being, yet Religion is rarely
mentioned, and Bomer has discovered that Hell, as it has been described to us, does not exist.
Although an All-Knowing, All-Loving Presence exists in what Bomer refers to as AFTER
(the Afterlife), it is hardly what we expect IT to be. Bomer simply speaks to me, and I record
his words, understanding that AFTER will be an individual experience for everyone. I
listen. I write. I ask questions. This work is simple, yet it demands that I clear my mind of all
judgments and expectations. I become an “empty vessel“. I now believe there is no Death,
only an instant of transformation into other worlds. I now believe we are infinite
Beings and that there is absolutely nothing to fear, except for whatever we may
imagine the death process to encompass. I am convinced that there is no Death,
only a change of Worlds, and that we live forever. But that is for you, the
reader, to decide for yourself.
***
EVE OF MY SON'S DEATH/SLEEPING IN HIS BED
"There's a crack between worlds where the Light pours in." — Leonard
Cohen
A mirror above the bed reflected the self-portrait of my son on an opposite
wall—completed only days before his death. His right arm extended as if he were
pushing away a strange light that had not yet encompassed him. He was naked, and
looked, in an exaggerated profile, a bit like Julius Caesar. I lay in his bed
staring at the portrait reflected in the mirror. It was only hours since his
human body had been taken from the garden where I had found him. My estranged
husband, Bomer's presumed "father", lay far on the other side of the giant bed.
Back to back, we would not face one another. Nor would we ever again, after the
funeral was done with.
My brain felt paralyzed. I could only stare at the painting in the semi-lit
room. Something was clearly shoving my son off of the canvas, to the right, a
space made only of a bizarre and purposeful Light, created by an artist other
than himself. Oleg, a Russian who had been an unwelcome guest, had "paid" for my
son's hospitality with the portrait which I would claim the next day. I do not
show it to anyone. But it is mine.
I saw reds, yellow, the colors of flesh, passion—and blazes of Light. I did
not sleep, nor cry. I was only numbly aware that another also occupied the
bed-space: my son's Father, estranged for many years. I felt "not in my body".
Nor anywhere in particular. I felt nothing but an absence of spirit that would remain
forever—a part of myself cut away. A "dismemberment" of my Soul. I lay
utterly empty and still, barely breathing, and I did not know who I was ... I simply
stared at the portrait of my son and I became HIM. How was I to know I was meant never
to separate from Bomer again. (True—but too depressing—eh?)
***
Editor's Notes
by Michael R. Burch
This is going to be an unusual book, to say the least. I had what I believe may
have been an encounter with Bomer, in a dream, before I knew who he was or had ever
communicated with Sharron Rose. This is her book, and Bomer's, but with Sharron's permission I will add my thoughts from
time to time. When I do so, I will preface my comments with my initials: MRB.
Because all readers may not make it to the end of this book, I want to share
Bomer's closing message now:
There is no “punishment“ awaiting drug users, or suicides—despite your
popular belief system. There is no punishment in God's Kingdom! Truth! ALL
is forgiven. Hell is here, within the Human belief system. Hell on Earth ...
not in God's Kingdom, or the more evolved planets in God's kingdom. No Hell
exists except on Earth! Now, this statement will be viewed as blasphemous by
many. But, remember and be assured, my Earth Mother—there exists only
forgiveness and unconditional Love in the AFTER. The beauty and happiness of
such an existence is inexpressible by language. I love you, Mother. All of
you are loved more than you can imagine.
You will understand this ... AFTER.
***
A new CD of Bomer's music, “Broken Chains,“ is scheduled to come out sometime
within about a year of the date Sharron and I started publishing this book: April 25, 2009. It is our hope to have the book completed before the
CD comes out.
Testimonies and Testimonials
It was Bomer's birthday. I was at Summerland Beach where his ashes were put
out to sea ... praying, asking for communication. I heard his voice say
clearly, “Mother—turn around!“ There, some many yards away—one of those
expensive huge balloons that refract rainbows was dancing in the wind. As I
walked toward the balloon, I knew what it would say—it said, of course,
HAPPY BIRTHDAY! I saved it. The beach was completely deserted.
***
Dena Sewall was a close friend of Bomer's. He sat on her bed for a long time the
night he died: she lives in another state. He told her he was dead—“on the other
side“. Dena started painting after the “visitation“ by Bomer. Here are her
comments in two emails where she discusses discussions she had with Bomer [she
and other friends of Bomer's sometimes call him “Bomber“] before and after his
passing:
Hi Sharry, I am still working on this painting (especially the bird on the right). I
just wanted to share my latest work in progress! It's called MaMa! It
is actually inspired by my boyfriend Shawn's mother, but of course I have
interjected my own fantasy of what I wish my own mother could have been, being
that my real mother abandoned me at a very young age. It does have religious
overtones. I sort of fused Buddhist and Nordic mythology, but she also comes across as a saint or angel. The sun mimics a
halo and the birds could be angel wings! Please let me know what you think and
offer me advice on anything that you think I could improve on. As
I have mentioned in the past, Bomer was the first person who ever
encouraged me to paint. At the time I thought it was such a silly thing to suggest! I had
never even really tried to draw, or
ever really painted. I was always into crafting and used to be pretty good at
anything I tried, but Bomer had no way of knowing this, as I was
a very different person when I was a young girl. But over the years we did talk,
and I always felt like he knew me like no time had passed. We
always had a spiritual connection! I know from the bottom of my heart that I
would never have picked up a paint brush if it was not the last thing Bomer ever said to me
as a living “in the flesh“ person.
And I didn't start painting till after he had passed on and
visited me in my dreams. He has spoken about my painting in dreams. I hope he can see how
well I am progressing as an artist! Painting has lifted my spirit and helped me to work
through so many things. Sometimes I think Bomer is a sort of muse or angel guiding me thru
life! I love you Sharry. Please be in touch. Love, Dena
Hi Sharry, Less than a few weeks before Bomber passed away, I had invited him to stay at
the farmhouse in upstate New York, since in 1990 I had left California to go
back to the east coast. Bomber was essentially the only person that I stayed in
contact with. Bomber moved a lot, so I would always leave a message with his
band mate and best friend Chris Rest, and sure enough Bomber would always
eventually call me back. I will never forget when he called me from Atlanta
while visiting his father. He said he called me because he was in Atlanta and
thought of me because he remembered that I had grown up there. We spoke for
several hours into the early morning, till finally I explained to him that I had
to end the call because I had work and had to get my girls off to school. He
understood, but before he hung up the phone he became quiet and paused briefly;
then it sounded as if he was crying. He told me that no matter where he was or
how crazy his life had become, he knew that he could call me even it was collect
from a payphone, and that I would always be there for him with unconditional
love to lift his spirit, and that he loved me very much and felt a special
connection with me. And I knew that he meant it, and that he knew I always felt
the same for him! Early on in the conversation he had mentioned to me that I
should paint, that art is a therapeutic. I giggled because I thought he was
silly. I had never painted or drawn in my life! On December 17, 2005, I got on
the computer to contact Chris Rest because I had settled into the new house I
had purchased a month before, and Bomber had mentioned coming to New York to
visit me. I had even looked at plane tickets from California. I found a posting
on Chris Rest's site that Bomber had died. I thought it was a joke! I had just
spoken to him a few months before, so I tried to contact you to see if the
rumors were true and to offer you some kind of condolence if they were. I had
written down your phone number and email address, but had misplaced them while I
was renovating my house. I looked for you online, but I was misspelling your
name, so nothing came up on Google. Although Bomber was in my thoughts often, I
had a lot going on with raising my girls, and I had some health problems that
made me practically bedridden, so I took Bomber's advice and started painting,
which really helped me get through a very dark period. One night I was up late
painting till the wee hours of the morning. I finally went to bed at five in the
morning. I will never forget it: Bomber walked into my room, sat at the end of
my bed, grabbed my foot thru the covers, and said, “Wake up, the sun is rising!
You have to go email my mom!“He told me that I had spelled your name wrong, and
that was very important for me to stay in touch with you! I remember it like it
was yesterday. I was a little scared, but sure enough the very next morning I
contacted you! I know it was real. He comes to visit me a few times a year. He
recently told me to change the color of the subject in my painting's robe to
blue, and I did! When I try to talk about this to people they always get quiet,
giggle, and or change the subject. I miss Bomber. I had never experienced real
unconditional love till I met Bomber and hadn't experienced it since, till I had
my daughters Zoe and Hailey. Bomber would be so proud of the mother, person, and
even the artist I have become. I really miss him, but I know he is never far
away and is with me in spirit. I truly believe he is my angel! I love you
Sharron! Thank you for bringing such an amazing spirit like Bomber to me! You
have blessed me and I am forever grateful! Sorry if I sound crazy, but I am just
being honest. Love, Dena
PS, here is the painting before and after Bomber told me to change the color.
Please let me know what you think.
Dana Sewell's “MaMa“ before Bomer's advice
Dana Sewell's “MaMa“ after Bomer's advice
***
The following is a letter by Bomer's friend, Scooter Buell:
Two weeks before our friend, musical genius, and the soul of RKL, Bomber, left our world
for the next, I was fortunate enough to talk to him on the phone for the last time.
I had spoken to him several times in the months prior, and he always seemed to be in great spirits
and had a positive attitude about everything dealing with his path to his current position
although, compared to most of us, he was not in the best of mental or physical health. I noticed
a decline in his mental state from phone call to phone call. It seemed like he was in the process
of dying, now that I look back on it. Bomber’s and my last conversation was a
bit trippy and at times during the long chat I was kinda freaking out on what he
was saying. It almost felt like I was having one line of communication with him
and he would answer or follow up with another one out of the blue.
Something I found interesting happened a few weeks before our last talk. I had sent
Bomber a few RKL skate decks that I put out on my record company, Malt Soda, with
the blessings of the current line up of RKL at the time. Bomer sent me
back a signed deck, still on my wall today ... of course! He wrapped it
up with used cardboard boxes and at least two rolls of silver duct tape. It
looked like an UFO! It was one freaky looking package and I saved it
because of the care and attention Bomer had taken with it, and for one more
reason too: Pictures of Angels.
Bomer was an avid fan of taking pictures; it was just another facet of his artsy persona. On the
address slip attached to the box was a picture of clouds that looked like any other puffy white
clouds on a on a sunny 85 (F.) degree day in Summerland on an average July afternoon. There
was text written near the picture that read “Angels”. I called Bomber, not knowing this was the
last time we would talk, and asked him about the picture and word Angels that he wrote in black
“sharpie”-style ink. This is what he said, “Angels are everywhere, you just have to look for
them”. I went back and looked at the photo and soon made out three angels; it’s kinda like looking
at those “Magic Eye” books that are scrambled designs and colors. You need to focus on the non-obvious
and a picture will appear. Or maybe I was just trying to believe in the hope and love that
Bomer was trying to share with me and the rest of the world.
As I was trying to express before, the last talk I had with Bomber was like speaking English to
someone who was replying in Spanish. The times Bomber was focused on intercommunication between us,
he spoke of Angels. His voice became more structured and less lackadaisical. He was speaking from
the heart and truly believed Angels where among us and all one needed to do was open his mind.
Was Bomber’s brain shutting down from his body’s past abuse, was he just tripping on a tab of acid,
or was he seeing what others don’t? Maybe all three. Maybe none of these. I have read and heard of a
lot of artists using drugs to get to another level of consciences to create art in the field
they are in. There is no question that Bomber did drugs; we all have, so you're not so holy if you
are reading this and are condemning him for his life choices. Whether drugs changed his thought
processes or managed his mind as what he believed he was seeing ... he reinforced a positive way
of thinking and always had hope. Till the day he left us.
I mentioned that Bomber signed a deck for me, but I didn’t say what it said. It was this: “Much love, Bomer”.
***
MRB: Before I met Sharron, I had a dream. The dream made quite an impression on me,
and so I made a note of the date—February 10, 2007—and wrote down the main
details of the dream in a journal I keep of such things. In my dream I was
traveling in a car with a young man. He took me to his mother's house, and I will never
forget the wonderful look of wondering love he gave her. Then we went inside and
engaged in what struck me at the time as “computer magic.“I believe this book
may well be that “computer magic.“
It seems to me that Sharron and Bomer had an especially strong bond of love
during his life on earth, and that somehow this was communicated to me through
my dream, before I met Sharron and learned about Bomer. The dream itself led me
to Sharron in an usual way. The woman in my dream had a flowerpot on her head.
As unlikely as this sounds, soon after I had the dream a friend of mine, Judy
Jones, emailed me to tell me that she was posing for an artist who paints people
with flowerpots on their heads!
Soon thereafter I met Sharron through Judy. While it seems odd to meet people
through dreams and end up working on books with them, especially when one of the
authors is no longer living in the earthly sense, there do seem to be things we
still can't account for in our philosophies, as Hamlet said to Horatio.
There are other details of my dream which I don't understand at present. I
remember the young man, who was driving, stopping at some sort of sandwich shop,
running across the street, and bringing us back something to eat. After he
resumed driving, I remember him trying to pass a large truck and “doing a Fred
Flintstone “with his feet, as if the car didn't have the horsepower to pass the
truck. The truck had something to do with Tennessee and/or the Volunteers. I
live in Tennessee, the Volunteer State. I had the impression that the truck may have
represented something to do with life and death, perhaps with a struggle the
young man was facing, because after the incident with the truck, we arrived at his
mother's house without the car. There was also something to do with a
dark-haired woman whose hair was shaved at the back. I believe she had a tattoo
or birthmark of some sort on the back of her head or neck. Perhaps during the
course of publishing this book these details will start to make sense. I
remember almost immediately discounting the dream when I had it because it
“didn't make any sense“ at the time. But when Judy Jones emailed me about posing
with a flowerpot on her head, I started to pay attention to this dream, and I'm
still hoping to make sense of all its details.
In the process of publishing the book, I came across the following in an email
from Sharron, which seems to confirm that Bomer had an accident that caused him
to struggle physically, and which he had trouble “passing“ or overcoming:
I have since talked with Bomer and he said that his intention was suicide—a
peaceful sleep from which he never would waken—because he could not bear to live
with such emotional and physical pain any longer. He had had spinal surgery due
to an auto accident we experienced together. It was considered a “miracle“ that
either of us survived.
So perhaps my initial impression of the truck and its meaning was correct.
***
Now, before we begin looking at Bomer's life, and his message of hope about the
realm he calls AFTER, I would like to share Sharron Rose's direct experience
with unconditional LOVE, in her own words:
A DIRECT EXPERIENCE WITH
UNIVERSAL LOVE
Written originally in Sitges, Spain on Christmas Eve, 1984
I had been frightened by the possession of a negative energy the night before. I
was washing my hair upstairs in the old fisherman's cottage in Sitges, thinking,
“This is ridiculous— what am I afraid of? Hey, God—if you're real—would you help
me out here...?“ I was suddenly feeling petrified and in actuality was very
isolated in that small adobe house next to the ocean. I was scared!
I wandered down the old stairs, as the walls leaked their white paint in soggy
patches beneath my bare feet. It was about 8 pm. A powerful energetic vibration
began to agitate my body. I reached the fuse box, downstairs and opened it.
Several fuses exploded into blue flashes and my fingers were burned slightly. I
noticed the small wart on my right forefinger that had appeared many years
before. What was THAT about? I thought, regarding the flashes.
Downstairs was total blackness. I stumbled outside to the Landlord's small
stucco cottage. I was panicky and nearly hysterical. He and his wife came
immediately, bringing new fuses—nothing worked. Although all of the houses on
the small street were attached to the same system, the power had stopped only in
mine. The landlord shook his head. His wife tried to console me. Each new fuse
blew up like a small exploding star. The landlord and his wife were apologetic.
They handed me candles, then left me alone. My small transistor radio was
playing. I was in total darkness. I lit a candle they had left for me.
Warm light suffused the room with its peeling damp wintered walls as the
energetic influx in my body intensified. I was freaking out, extremely agitated.
I felt like an animal would feel trapped before an earthquake. An
English-speaking station came on the radio. The BBC. I had never been able to
receive it before. The newsperson was speaking about the war in Iraq—a war that
had not yet happened! By now I was in extreme panic. The lights had not come on,
and I thought...“So long as there is radio contact—I'm o.k.“At that instant the
radio went dead. I was frightened beyond hysteria as a “quickening“ began in my
body. My heart hurt and I felt that I would die, as I was so agitated. Suddenly
a vibration of an exquisite and terrifying sensory quality overwhelmed me and
encompassed all of my physical and mental senses. So extreme was the sensation I
felt I would die from fear—yet suddenly I felt a peculiar infusion that seemed
to enter through my crown chakra. The sensation was that I was being given a
powerful sedative through that chakra which immediately reduced my fear and
anxiety and allowed me to relax into the experience. Suddenly I became engulfed
by Love. Not Human Love, but a Love so Intense and Alive that I simply fell upon
the old sofa and was engulfed by it. I began to quietly cry, so intense was the
Experience. Words are not available to describe the sensations that overtook me.
This was an Unconditional Unknown Force of Love that permeated every cell of my
body and consumed my Soul. I could not speak. My heart beat so rapidly I feared
I would die.
Engulfed by Love, a Love that was not of Human Origin—(for I was being “told“
this...) I asked “It“ to calm me, somehow, or I would surely die. Immediately, a
very powerful infusion was introduced through the crown of my head which reduced
my fear and anxiety and allowed me to relax into the experience somewhat, as a
third factor began to activate. There was clearly a Presence in the room with
me. It was not Human. It was Light and Golden and it was enormous. It had a
frequency, a vibration of an exquisite sensory quality that seemed nearly
orgasmic, but not in the human sense. It was beyond Love and It permeated and
encompassed all of my senses. It then began to speak wordlessly, through the
frequency that engulfed me. It encompassed all of my mental, emotional and
physical capabilities and I was permeated with this Supernatural Love. I sat
down on the sofa and began to cry quietly. I did not lose the sense of my
physical “reality“ but the immensity and brilliance of the Light that was
entering all of my senses remains indescribable. The Intelligence then began to
speak to me, again, with a vibration moving through my crown chakra. “There is
no such thing as Death“, it said. “And there is no Hell. There is only Love,
Unconditional Love throughout the entire Universe. You are this Love, You are
not separate.“
“But what about punishment?“ I muttered. What about Hitler? What about
murderers?“
Again the Love responded, not with words, but with A Frequency that remains
indescribable. “There is no such thing as Hell or Punishment or Death. There is
only Unconditional Love.“
My ears tingled with an odd frequency that would remain for weeks. I would be
able to pick up various radio stations along with the frequencies of birdsongs
and animals. There is no way to describe what was told to me. At last the
Unconditional Frequency of Love asked if I would like for It to reveal Itself to
me. The room was filled with an unearthly brilliance, and I was afraid.
“No. No!“ I stammered, for I felt I would see God Itself and never be able to
remain as a human again after such an experience. The Presence understood. It
very gently and lovingly began to withdraw itself from the cottage. I glanced
down at my right forefinger, where that odd and troublesome wart had plagued me
for several years. It had been removed. I was trembling. Yet still the Love
suffused me. I managed to write down what had happened and then fell into a deep
sleep or unconsciousness. For weeks afterward I was able to hear various radio
frequencies as well as others indescribable. Whenever I neared any electrical
lamp or appliance, it would short out. El Technico came to explore this problem,
and reported none of the other houses had experienced such an occurrence.
My husband returned from Egypt the next morning. He was interested but
mystified. When I showed him that the wart was gone from my finger, leaving not
a trace, he was astonished. While still in Spain, I reported my experience with
the Energy of Unconditional Love to others I had met there: a teacher, and a
former Spanish Government Agent. They later married. We often spoke of this
experience and others they had themselves experienced in this small Village in
Spain. Many years passed after we all returned to the United States and we
eventually lost contact. I shared what had happened to me with Dr. Richard Moss,
a physician turned into Spiritual Teacher, and he declared he had had a similar
experience himself, and that his best friend who was with him at the time said,
“Enough, Richard! This is too bizarre!“ and would no longer be his friend.
I would like to say that the experience with the Unconditional Frequency of Love
changed me forever. It did not. I returned to my former life in Marin County,
California, with my husband, my family. And I eventually returned to more
mundane concerns. Now, reliving the experience with the Unconditional Love, I
realize that I left IT, but IT, the LOVE, never left me.
Sharron Rose (an excerpt from her thesis “Integrating the
God-Energy“)
Methamphetamine Angels
THE BEGINNING (of the Afterlife). As all that is light
attracts darkness and vice versa, so did my son Bomer succumb to an occasional
fondness for the epitome of darkness, and danger—the drug named methamphetamine.
The cause of his death remains a mystery. Two autopsies were completed and the
coroner reported that Bomer had been an amazingly healthy young man. No
indication of heart attack or any cause of death. I often wonder—was it simply
Bomer's time to become an Angel? The book begins with the Poem “Methamphetamine
Angels“ which was written way before Bomer's death. Precognitive? Perhaps.
“Tell me, Bomer—what do you see?“
Bomer replies, “Melting Angels threaded with liquid thunder, ice flames and at
the center—US—familiar and happy—that trivial Earth word ... Do you read me,
Mothership? Bomer to Mothership? ... Be Happy!
I respond, “But the Sky has fallen. The Earth is empty.“
***
When he occasionally used methamphetamine, Bomer became obsessed with
Angels. He had thoroughly read the Bible at least several times,
and had turned to a life of classical music and spirituality
near the end, at which time he claimed to be communicating with
the Angels. He was also “bi-polar“(extremely so). I supposedly am bi-polar
too. We were the subject of study at UCLA Medical Center because
such a relationship, with Mother and Son both being bi-polar, is
extremely rare. Mozart was bi-polar, George O'Keefe, Sylvia
Plath, of course, Robin Williams—the list is long.
***
The following poem was written originally in San Francisco, then rewritten in Ventura
while looking out from my upstairs window
after visiting Bomer when he was “using“. Outside his room on Russian Hill was a
beautiful Magnolia Tree.
MOZART, MY SON
It is 8 am and a Shadow Man
beneath my 5th floor window
on California Street in Ventura
is violently breaking cement.
But my mind is hiding
in a black Magnolia tree,
in a garden on Russian Hill,
San Francisco, where it NOW
is NIGHT.
My hands slam down the window,
my mouth curses the early working man,
as my SOUL BECOMES A BLUE SPACESHIP—
small enough to be interpreted
as a frisbee, or a flat blue hat
clinging to the crooked arms
of the black tree
on Russian Hill
in San Francisco.
Inside the house MOZART,
MY SON, is playing the piano,
and an ailing man crooks his sleeping
neck toward me, his hands clasped sideways.
My face, my body, leans over to kiss him.
He smiles through his Dream
which I imagine is of antique
rabbit and cerulean Blue Gardens.
Mozart's music is an immense wave
through which no one may enter.
It spills through the windows
and onto the floorboards
and washes away
the ailing man's affliction
which cannot be transmitted
except by LOVELESSNESS.
Meanwhile, my soul smiles
in the crook of the black magnolia tree, and I am HAPPY.
MOZART (my son) is manic tonight!
He will play until the piano shudders,
until all the keys grow thick and green
beneath his coiled, impassioned hands.
Until ... until ... HIS MUSIC FILLS US
UTTERLY! UNTIL WE ARE READY TO BECOME
THE SOUL, THE MUSIC, THE MAGNOLIA TREE—THE SPACESHIP MIND.
6-8-2003
This poem was written shortly after Bomer died.
THE MURDEROUS RAPTURE OF GOD
Look—if God appeared suddenly
and leaked into all our crevices,
wearing ectoplasmic glue gun splatters
from experimental episodes
in gilded rooms and secreted places—
I'd believe it—
Wouldn't you?
If God appeared and spoke
with a flat, brash fist,
(yet, dulcet-toned)—
If God played flutes on fire
with rapture—and Evangelism—
I'd listen closely
And when God
shifted into Lucifer
I'd swear and want to hide
under a table. I'd scream.
We both would, WOULDN'T YOU??
Sharron Rose
1-6-2005
METHAMPHETAMINE ANGELS
for my Son, Bomer
“I don't know what they look like“, he said.
They have spiny tears that float
like wet blue grass
beneath his eyelids, so he couldn't
close them—EVER.
Not even at night
When all of the windows
shattered with machine gun pellets
from unknown assailants.
He said they were green
like our heart chakras.
He said they wore sponge
underwear, beneath their crisp
uniforms of thin human flesh,
yet unborn, transparent as tears
under razor -sharp edges.
Amazingly, his shoulder blades
DID appear to be protruding.
into the most unimaginable
semi-circular thrusts
of what could only be
an Angel's early wings—
shunting the tanned line
at his necklaced chest.
I couldn't find feathers
but I saw THEM—
those budding thrusts,
and I believed Him
because I saw what I saw
in his darkening rooms
just at Sunset, when
his charismatic Jesus/cherub/
glow lamp installations
switched on automatically—
swelling the ceiling wall ...
our hands ... our faces ...
with miraculous moving orifices—
Shapes, features, rosaries.
I KNEW they were real
because, holding next to him,
(in a space that could be taken
by no Other)—
the Ocean within us fractured
us gently, and, just for an instant,
We DID become fishes,
as, along with Him,
Same as Him ...
I also saw GOD.
2006
A MOTHER'S POEM FOR THE UNBORN
It's too early to go mad!
Even with stones weighting my pockets
I will get out there
cold in seawater
and feel you swimming
beside me, your eely body
so young and rough
that I will believe in Sea Monsters!
Try to get back.
Lose my glasses.
Make a fool of myself.
A middle-aged woman
drinking vodka
in an ocean of flashlights and sand.
Some mothers will do anything
you see, when the abortion
did not happen. She must carry the weight
of the lost offspring within her always.
If she is eighty, she is still pregnant.
Still bloated with Love.
MOTHER, WHAT SHOULD WE DO? HE CRIED...
“Burn down their Barns, Let the horses live“, I said.
Those aliens howled at us again!
I shut the chimney damper, but he swore they passed
among the houses with their smeary windows, anyhow.
All the inhabitants, judging him, he said, as if he
were a murderer, with bags of Sin like Santa Claus—
all bulk and mystery, too harsh to handle.
So we wept for the frustration of weeping children,
empty stockings, and Christmases when we would never
be together again.
GHOSTS
You think they'll depart
that you won't have
to live with them forever—
their screamy voices,
drool on your piano keys.
Ooze from doorway to doorway.
Their smeary footsteps
shuddering you, their Light
not of our consciousness.
Drunk with distortions.
Pills! Mudslides! Confused
patterns misdocumenting
the Serenity Prayer.
Once again, an Abandonment!
Oh, God, I don't think
I can live through this again!
Which hand is holding the other's?
Which of us is more psychotic?
Me? Stomping through scary hallways
into a dimness unrecognized, whispering
convincingly, pushing away their evilly green
shadows. Rest Now, My Darling Son!
I've killed them. The ghosts are gone.
THE UNTITLED
This Human ache—
what to name it?
A tautness between sticks
that a child could hold
as the Rope Man climbs evilly
his ascent...Black Masked
and Bandaged, prone
toward disaster.
His is no game for children!
Nor were the tin armies
of rusted soldiers
haunted by blood stains—
who could tell us why?
And what about Lucifer?
That murky one—
stealing our socks and underwear
pretending to be innocent
as Halloween candy
as if He or We or It
did not exist.
BOMER CONTACT
Zanex is looking at “something” near Bomer’s photo and
paintings in the living room.
I have been sleeping on Bomer’s sofa for several days.
I have gone to the “Tree” (earlier) and removed all
constricting wires that held the ornaments and could impede growth.
The branches
sparkled.
I fondled the tree.
I pushed my business card further into the earth beneath.
I walked to the beach asking for him.
But . . . no sign.
Suddenly, about 3:30 and Bomer is with me in my dream.
We are joking and playing, and making food as we used to. (Yams?)
We are teasing one another.
I wake from the dream and Bomer is at the curve of the sofa
where my head is.
He is solid. healthy, alive, wearing the khaki (tan) surf shorts he always wore.
He speaks, “See you later.”
This is REAL.
Then he turns and is gone.
His voice was real … He was here.
Thank you God. Thank you Bomer. Thank you. Thank you. Thank
you.
When is “later” to be?
Channelings
The beginning of the afterlife. The Beginning.
It is time to start channeling again mother, to reconnect
to the afterlife. You have been afraid that you could not find me again. That
journey into the darkness that you took with me was purposeful because you saw
how a drug affects brain chemistry that is already disturbed (such as in
bi-polar conditions like ours) can create suicidal thoughts and deaths. It is
chemistry. It can be managed, sometimes, but not cured, not yet, not on Earth.
You were able to become me and enter the places that took my earth life. I know
how painful and terrible this is for you. But now it is there to continue. Tell,
my mother, what you experienced so that other parents may know—not just with
regard to their children but to brain malfunctions in general. Drug use to
stabilize brain chemistry is not practiced only by drug addicts. Look at our
World.
If only I could tell you, mother, that there is a cure for
those of us who indulge in drug use. For some there is the possibility of
overcoming addictions. But the need to balance is always present. It is in all
of us. That’s why we drink coffee, alcohol, and become addicts.
Our brains and nervous systems are not developed to the
degree they need to be for us to live comfortably on this planet. We have
emotions, these are both curses and blessings; we experience extreme polarities,
some more than others; this occurs only here on earth.
I am balanced now, I love but it is love without pain or
possession or grasping or wanting more for myself I only need to give Love here.
That which you call God is Love; its nature fills us completely; we need no
other Love for we have become that Love. God is the thinking, feeling, creative
expression of Love.
Loss of Love.
Death, death of a loved one.
Loss of expectation.
On Earth, everything is ultimately loss.
AFTER . . . there is not loss.
I am different; I am still myself, I Love—but
unconditionally, and painlessly without melancholy or longing.
May 29, 2007
The Day after Memorial Day—early morning (after a meltdown yesterday)
A dream of Bomer as a Baby—“A Congenital Defect”
I awaken from this nightmare, look up, and see a brown
recluse spider on the ceiling.
I go down the stairs of my wooden bed, see a penny, pick it
up.
The “spider” is only a small bug. I was worried that if it
was a recluse I would have to kill it.
The Dream “A Dead Baby—Bomer”
I am sleeping with Mama and Ann. Bomer is a newborn, is in
a pillowcase by the bed.
I am crying. “He’s dead” they tell me, “leave him alone.“ I
pick up the pillowcase and he is inside. A dead baby. I wake and (reality)
Stephen is here, telling me he loves me.
I am bereft. I must dialogue with the dream, my intuition
tells me Bomer was damaged at birth because of the RH Factor. The 50/50 chance
of my blood. Or did I harm him by taking that one black pill (ergot?), a natural
potion used by women to abort used for centuries? I bled a little bit in the
early months of my pregnancy. Was it my fault he died, or was it an unknown
cause? I must speak to him.
Bomer—it’s Mom—please tell me the meaning of this dream—please communicate with me. Why do you not come to me? You abandoned me. Was
this our last life together? Please channel to me now.
Bomer—Well (Mom) I probably didn’t help the “pill” but I
was predisposed from birth to have the heart fibrillation. I died of a “broken
heart.” I wanted to leave. There was nowhere else, I had nowhere to go. You
don’t see me often because I am trying to release you. To let you heal.
Mom—you did everything, it was not your fault. It was
destiny. You know all the illnesses I had as a child. Oh Mom, I will be waiting
for you, with Mama. Don’t die now, don’t disappoint me. Make something of your
life that remains. I can channel my art thru you, you know and you know all the
times I have come to you—just because you don’t see me doesn’t mean I’m not
there.
Anne and Mama were in the dream to get your attention. I
had the congenital heart defect at birth. Just as you have the heart murmur.
Mom, I Love you. The only way you can survive is through creativity. Please do
it for me. Your time will come and I will be there.
Me—I want to see you.
Bomer—Mom—your medicine interferes, and your bi-polar
condition. I am always nearby. Know that. Know the meaning of the dream was to
let you know I came close to dying at birth. Remember I was kept in the
hospital, remember all I ever wanted was for you to be Happy. I said that I
wanted you to realize your full potential as an artist. You are that. You must
carry on so I can channel through you.
The bug on the ceiling was to show you how you always
expect the worst. You make up your own dreams. Just pray to Mama, Darden and me
each night—and clean up your environment. Make art. Shrines, yes. Go out and
sell your prints on weekends, or in a store.
I Love you Mom. None of it was your fault, It was destiny.
April 19, 2009
When some members in families don't bond, it is for the purpose of creating
a tension necessary for growth (in that family). Example: "Suffering creates
growth" (Charles Manson once said that in another form..."pain make grow ...
duh! Why that came to mind I don't know). Suffering may be necessary because
it creates movement/growth and we ascend into a place of higher
consciousness, within and without, the family unit. Families rarely
recognize this fact, of course, and Life can become like "Hell". Not bonding
in a family moves humans into a "higher" field of consciousness (though it
may not seem so). Because not bonding creates a tension within the family
unit that promotes EITHER growth or destruction within the family unit. (We
hope for growth, of course.) LOVE reunites all of us in the AFTERLIFE, and
families may be reunited there. Family members can try forever to achieve
"bonding" and never get there. Sometimes, within a family unit, there has
been an "accidental misplacement of Souls" which can create resistance, at
our human level, for any and many reasons, to the bonding experience. Maybe
"nothing happens" to families except growth, or it is possible that nothing
happens at all and the Souls move backward, as in dysfunctional families
that never can heal or learn to love one another, or change. "Mistakes
Happen. So also do Random Errors in terms of FAMILY PLACEMENT. " Wow,
that's what I got from Bomer, Mike. He's going backwards on the list of
questions. RANDOM ERRORS IN TERMS OF FAMILY PLACEMENT. Sounds robotic to
me, Sharron. (But it makes sense. Whoever sets the family placement can make
mistakes ... and growth does seem to involve some forms of tension or
discomfort. These are my thoughts. What are yours, Mike? Sharron (It's 10:30
pm, my brain is in a fog!!! Bomer, I hope you are loving this!) I am
tired.!!!!
November 17, 2007
Mom, he says, you asked me to tell you what its like to be here. I can always
see ALL of Earth—anytime I want to. I can see YOU at this moment. There's so
much! I miss certain images from Earth—things—but not with LONGING because I can
instantly create any experience I want. There's no physical feeling except as
one would make up in a dream. I can create anything, any feeling I want. We who
have crossed over can transition to earth in one second and SEE you—even be
inside your mind, and you may feel us in your bodies sometimes. We like to feel
you being happy—but sorrow does not affect us.
Everyone here lives among the galaxies. There are plenty of planets for everyone
to inhabit—you'll get your own eventually. Some are similar to Earth. There are
billions! We here are all benevolent and pleasantly detached. There is only LOVE
here, communion with other souls ... no conflict, only Love. Oh, by the
way—there is no such thing as HELL—only a belief in that system on Earth.
Ever AFTER
The following are emails containing Bomer's messages after Sharron completed the
final chapter of the book, at that time tentatively titled either
“Methamphetamine Angels“ or “AFTER.“ It was later decided to use “AFTER“ as the
title of the book and “Methamphetamine Angels“ as the title of the first chapter
of the book.
October 3, 2008
Am getting over the last of the pneumonia, feeling much better. Am e-mailing
you my draft of the last chapter of Methamphetamine Angels, as channeled by
Bomer, unedited. It's easier than going out to make copies right now, AND
I've put the whole book in order AND am enclosing a hand-colored print of “I
Have PMS“ for Beth—this is to get ME started here with completion. I've got
the angels here also but have to get some more colored pencils.
Your e-mails are so encouraging, I would probably never have done anything
without your encouragement, never put anything together, that is.
Anyhow, here's Bomer. I sat by his tree and wrote this as the ending of AFTER.
“Mother—you will have to piece all that we have exchanged here with God's
help and knowledge. As you know—“sequence“ occurs only on Earth. Every
thought, word, prayer or message in the entire Universe is actually
happening simultaneously, everywhere.
I invite anyone reading “After“ to contact me about events that may be
occurring here and elsewhere within the Planetary Kingdom of what we call
GOD.
I have missed you, Mother! I am glad you have come back to me. Now, you are
somewhat compromised and wanting to be with Mama and Myself, because you are
sick and depressed. It is not quite yet your time. When it IS your time we
will come to you “in the blink of an eye“ and take you with us. You will not
be alone, you will barely notice the transition from the flesh to a new body
of spectacular freedom and mobility.
Meanwhile—try to enjoy Earth Life—though I know you find it trying and
sometimes impossible. But you must TRY. This is your last experience on
EARTH. Your last lifetime in human form. You and all of your fellow humans
are living in a kind of. quasi-dream state with a lot of stress-producing
baggage. Try to view your life as an awakened (temporary) dream/drama that
you have contracted to move through, and you will discover PEACE within the
drama you have chosen to create. There is peace within Earth Baggage, which
is inevitably growing heavier and more unwieldy.
There is such a sense of unreality about the whole business of Earth Life
... yes? Sometimes life seems like a movie which it actually is, and
similarly projected upon your senses and consciousness. SIT QUIETLY,
PRAYERFULLY, AND OBSERVE WHAT IS “REAL“! The laughter of a child. An
unexpected encounter with a loved one, or loved one yet to become.
Ask and you shall receive, Mother! Stay in the small, still moments. Pray. I
notice you appear to have forgotten how...“
I have given you some information about the nature of reality in these
writings. More will be forthcoming ... AFTER.
For the time being, learn to live with greater love, in the NOW,
Mother. Your nature is Love, as is Mine—and we were both wounded. Forget
the wounds—they are part of surrendering to Compassion, for yourself as well
as Others.
Your friend, Mike, as I recall, wanted me to offer hope for parents who are
dealing with drug use and substance abuse, with their offspring as well as
themselves. So many parents are also hooked on prescription drugs!
Pharmaceuticals and street drugs can be used in an attempt to balance human
experience and capabilities and fuse them with knowledge and as well as
personal experience with God. Spirit. (Whatever.) Often pharmaceuticals and
street drugs WILL create a temporary knowledge of Spiritual Reality with
God. Neither, however, can bring about permanent evolutionary growth. But
these drugs can produce glimpses that may last a lifetime. I am not saying
“take drugs“. I am saying some drugs can bring about some transformation,
as well as psychosis and death. (Possibly.) My own experiences brought
transformation and great joy and knowledge—however, side effects ultimately
produced the death of my physical body. All drugs have the potential to
delete the life of the human body! Wonderful glimpses of the afterlife and
even some evolutionary growth may result, but the physical body almost
always suffers and is damaged.. My own death was, indeed, a partially
intended “suicide“. However, no one arrived in time to rescue me. I left the
outcome to God. So here I am!
It would be far better to legalize pharmaceuticals as they will be used
and misused anyway. Better to allow these drugs to be purchased as a
prescription, not as a street drug which may contain more harmful
ingredients. Some drugs are life-saving and necessary. Other commonly
prescribed drugs are toxic and ultimately fatal. There is no answer. No
solution, except for education ... perhaps. Fatality is, of course, the
doorway to one's New Universe. There is no “punishment“ awaiting drug users,
or suicides—despite your popular belief system. There is no punishment in
God's Kingdom! Truth! ALL is forgiven. Hell is here, within the Human belief
system. Hell on Earth...not in God's Kingdom, or the more evolved planets
in God's kingdom. No Hell exists except on Earth! Now, this statement will
be viewed as blasphemous by many. But, remember and be assured, my Earth
Mother—there exists only forgiveness and unconditional Love in the
AFTER. The beauty and happiness of such an existence is inexpressible by
language. I love you, Mother. All of you are loved more than you can
imagine.
You will understand this ... AFTER.
***
October 5, 2008
Bomer: Ask and you shall receive. It's really like your asking and its
intensity is your wanting, your will (meaning all humans). We are all
“mini-gods“, remember that, in an evolutionary process. A RANDOM
evolutionary process. Our “GOD“ is one of many evolved entities, that
once was possibly human. We can become, WE ARE, our own personal God
within, depending on our belief system—we have much more power to
determine our lives than we think! (Mike, I'm just typing fast as I can,
not saving any of this.) We can improve upon the GOD within
ourselves—our “soul“—and be happier. We can
recreate and improve on that personal God, whom we are also—that exists
within us. Every one of us. We have to learn to control our thoughts and
belief systems! Each one of us is actually a part of God and will one
day have our own universe. We suffer because we don't know how to manage
our “Godness“ yet. (Well, I am so “spaced out“ with this channeling I
can barely type! I have to stop now and go “hug a tree“ or do something
to keep me in my earth-baggage body ... Love, S.)
Other Poems and Conversations
The following are poems by Sharron Rose and emails between Sharron Rose and Mike
Burch which are not directly related to Bomer, but may be of interest to
readers.
RECESSION
Remembering the Holocaust
Coffee is precious.
Even the khaki stems
of rooted weeds
that once were chard
and beans are precious
in our garden.
Rotted fruit is taken
as a prize from winter's
black disintegration.
Mostly inedible.
My parents told me of
the Great Depression—
fed me oleo on sugared
crusts, told me how both
men and children stood
in bread lines. while women
ironed in factories.
Old or pregnant—
it didn't matter.
Post War—
that sugared crust for me
was elegant as wedding frosting.
I ate voraciously and dreamed
of Hitler's deathcamps.
At four years old I saw my Father's photographs
of families: murdered, naked, heaped in Hitler's deathcamps.
My Grandpa's memorabilia. His photographs, his surgeon's
knives and microscopes—MINE to be left alone with.
To contemplate. And today I've found his photographs!
The first atomic bomb, exploded over Hiroshima—
my Father's legacy. His war medals profoundly beautiful
coffined in a drawer. Why do I awake and write war stories
only days before Christmas? Remembering what created
Who I Am today. My closet full of molding memorabilia,
photographs too painful to release from pages, black, faded
now—ash colored, ragged. I understood nothing of murder then.
Yet dreamed myself among those deathcamps, coiled with naked others,
holding my son and daughter. Screams. Cries. Sounds of moving machinery.
our bodies tractored upon one another like garbage. I smelled Death
and witnessed the destruction of a Human population—throat to throat,
socket to socket. And THIS Christmas those photographs remain
in the grave of a tin shed in Santa Barbara, rotting memorabilia
too terrible to touch or think upon. I recall that lifetime separate
from any other memory. Holding me solid, somehow, in this shroud
of Human flesh that I must consider purposeful—that which I
cannot step away from. Nor those moldering photographs, wearing
my Grandfather's and my Father's name.
(Memories from a past life)
***
March 8, 2008
Mike—I don't believe I ever told
the entire truth about the visitation in Spain—no
one knows—nor did I write it—because
it sounded arrogant (almost)—meaning why should
such a thing happen to me? Who am I! Not a saint, FOR SURE—no
one special—just very isolated and focused on
God. I had seen many angels and the Above Ones and ETs, but that encounter
spoke through my education and fear and the BEING said IT was the HOLY
SPIRIT. That we never die, that there is nothing to fear—BUT
the experience was so INTENSE I feared I would die from—what—“fear
of the unknown and the intensity of the vibrational frequency“ that
permeated my body and My soul. I told you I picked up (heard them in my
ears) radio signals for weeks after. I could hear various programs. Any
electrical appliance I touched sparked—greatly!
I am a coward—there is no doubt—and
since it was written up in my thesis I particularly did not want to say the
Holy Spirit or God itself spoke to me a message for all mankind—because
that really sounds crazy. Why me? Perhaps because I was so focused and
ALONE. Perhaps I wanted that—called out to God.
It was God or the Holy Spirit, whatever one wishes to call it that came to
me that night and even asked to show itself. It said—to
reiterate—“Even Hitler did not go to Hell. There
is no Hell. There is only (in actuality) LOVE. UNIVERSAL LOVE.“I was a
coward. I was so scared I asked it NOT to reveal itself to me, and to go
away, because my nervous system was going so berserk with an indescribable
vibrational frequency. IT GAVE me medicine thru my crown chakra when I asked
it to—to calm me—not
any medicine we know. I now wish I had been courageous, instead of a coward—because
IT wanted to reveal itself to me visually. It identified itself as The Holy
Spirit or God, and said that I was to tell everyone I knew about what
happened, and that THERE IS NO DEATH. I asked about Hitler, and the Holy
Spirit said. “EVEN HITLER LIVES ETERNALLY. THERE IS NO DEATH. THERE IS NO
HELL“. I pray it happens again to me while I am alive—this
experience, and I shall not be a coward. If only I could be so blessed. It
mentioned It was of an Energy not known on Earth—more
powerful than any other. More so than the neutron bomb energy. It must've
thought that was the most I could relate to, so it mentioned that. Above all
It spoke of LOVE. If I could experience again THAT LOVE, I WOULD ASK IT TO
MATERIALIZE. All I can say was that I have never experienced a LOVE like
that. Completely forgiving, non-judgmental. I was such a coward, and I
regret that. But I was afraid my nervous system would not hold up if I
actually saw IT. When you mentioned today about the Angel—I
thought of that experience again, Mike. I have never shared all of this with
another soul. IT WAS GOD/HOLY SPIRIT/SOMETHING BEYOND IMAGINING. I thought
of Moses—how terrified he was with the burning
bush and all. My BODY had such scary sensations because of the ENERGY that
was not of this EARTH. My concern was always that people would think I was
nuts if I actually said GOD VISITED ME AND OFFERRED TO REVEAL ITSELF TO ME.
IT SAID THAT THERE IS NO HELL, NOT EVEN FOR HITLER. THERE IS ONLY LOVE and
all else doesn't matter. Some years later I was very ill with ... something
... I could not bear any more nausea. I felt the Above Ones, well, above me,
and I asked aloud—“Please, I am too weak for
anymore nausea. I fear I will die.“They very lovingly stopped the nausea,
led me to my bed where I rested for a time—then I
resumed that terrible throwing up later when I was stronger. There were many
of them and they were so loving and compassionate. It was not an Angel, nor
an Angel of God, that came to me that night in Spain. It was God itself, The
God that came to Moses, to Others. I think we humans are not “wired“ for
experiences like that—though Dr. Richard Moss
had an identical experience, which we discussed when I came back to
California. GOD LOVES US. THERE IS NO HELL. WE ALL GO TO GOD, no matter what
sins we create. This is surely blasphemy. So I have told no one. Except
you. WHY DID THIS HAPPEN TO ME? Because I so wanted to know GOD. Then when
the opportunity came, the feelings in my body were too terrifying. To be
terrified of such a GREAT LOVE. It was very polite—WHEN
I SAID—“NO, DON'T SHOW ME YOURSELF“—It
peacefully backed away. You are the only person in the whole world who knows
this was no angel. I KNOW ANGELS—and this was
the Holy Spirit. Having worked as an art therapist at Camarillo State
Hospital, I am well acquainted with psychotics. I myself am bi-polar—which
I believe often leads us to spiritual events as well as wanting to help
others. It is a blessing, being bi-polar in the sense that it allows us
great extremes in experience. These experiences are real. I handled it! And
now I pray it will come again, one day—and I
will not be so cowardly. I told my Mother about it, though not so
dramatically. Perhaps that is why she died so peacefully.
P.S. I did tell my husband in great detail about what happened. Though we
were not on the “same page“ ever—he was very
excited and happy. My mom and Monty's mother, whose work was about making
spiritual films (The Elda Hartly Film Foundation) even thought I was
nuts. My husband, on the other hand, who had no specific quest for
spirituality or God—thought what happened was
very cool and said he wished it would happen to him. Actually—Mike—you
can share this with others. Love, Sharron
***
Bomer continues: We are none of us separate. Tell Mike that.