paint the town purple...

 

"For what is it to die, But to stand in the sun and melt into the wind? And when the Earth has claimed our limbs, Then we shall truly dance.” (Kahlil Gibran)

 

 

 

It is nearly

thirteen years to the day...

 

A day when

the world

 

(one warm

 Saturday October morning)

 

cracked open,

 

and all the purple

threatened to

bleed & spill

 

right out of it.

 

Today,

it is a beautiful Spring Melbourne day.

 

And outside the local library

purple flowers bloom brightly.

 

They remind me of:

 

Your hair,

your tattoos,

your amethyst eyebrow ring,

 

even that

larger than life laugh

 

that contained

every ounce & every shade

of purple

 

within its thunder.

 

Will I ever see you

(or the likes of you)

 

again?

 

I would give up

everything I own

 

(and more)

 

to have one last

red wine

with you.

 

Oh, to talk about art,

and to tell you

about this woman I have met

 

(whose art, heart & smile has captured me

 like your's once did).

 

You'd take the piss of course,

laugh that laugh

 

that I miss so, so much.

 

Nothing was ever

serious in your company

 

for too long.

 

Then again,

Gentle Piscean Purple Man,

 

then again.

 

One thing

that perhaps you did believe in

 

(and maybe

 even more than your art??)

 

was Love.

 

In fact,

that was what I loved most

about you...

 

(even more than your

 accomplished, well practiced,

 enviable passion & play

 with paint.)

 

Here we were,

 

two young men barely

in our thirties,

 

sitting at the edge of a new Millenium.

 

Two young artists

who had been stung by love

 

(and who had broken a few hearts ourselves)...

 

(yet)

we remained two hopeless

yet

hopeful romantics.

 

And,

despite

(or maybe because) we'd

 had our hearts broken before,

 

we still  believed

there was

a girl out there

 

somewhere

 

who would save us.

 

Save us, by loving us.

 

 

***

 

It seems like only yesterday:

 

That I remember seeing you

in that small, cramped casket,

 

so still & cold & pale,

 

all life gone.

 

And

I still remember

thinking that no coffin so tiny

could ever contain

 

such a huge heart.

 

I also remember

(and it still brings tears to my eyes):

 

Your beautiful Clan

of older sisters

presenting everyone

 that attended your service

 

with a purple "Vivid" marker.

 

So that, as we went in

a select few at a time,

to see you in state

 

and to pay our last respects...

 

...we could do so

 by drawing & writing

in permanent purple ink

 

on the outside of your white casket.

 

- Such a fitting tribute,

to a man who spent most of his life

 

creating & making art.

 

And when it was finally

carried to the front

of the (full to bursting)

Nelson hall,

 

everyone laughed at a message

someone had scrawled

on the back panel

of its lid:

 

"You can visit Marz@Celestrial.com"

 

I remember standing there in

my purple suit,

 

reading a poem

I had written for you

on the flight over.

 

And seeing everyone sitting there

from the Wellington Art Posse,

wearing their purple armbands

in tribute

 

to a fallen artist & friend.

 

And I remember Rimu

tenderly playing his guitar

 

and singing

with all his young (raging) heart:

 

"Have I Told You Lately that I Love You?"

by Van Morrison.

 

At the end of the service,

you were carried out to

the speakers crackling, spluttering & vibrating to:

 

"Purple Haze"...

 

(I'm sure that

somewhere

you and Jimi must still be

talking & laughing

 

about that one.)

 

 

***

 

Time is a strange, strange thing.

 

All of this feels like it happened

only a few weeks ago.

 

And I am sure that this week

I am not alone

 

in thinking of,

mourning

(and celebrating)

 

You.

 

Seeing those purple flowers

outside the library,

 

I smile,

& shed a couple more tears

 

behind my purple Raybans.

 

It appears

that you are still finding the time,

my Friend:

 

Getting out there

in this world

with your

paintbrush & palette,

and painting the town

 

in bright splashes of purple!!

 

I will raise this glass of red,

tonight

and (quietly) promise

 

that I will never forget you...

 

And all those days

of your long / short

(thirty-four year) life...

 

That you gifted

& blessed me:

 

With your company,

your heart,

your humour,

your compassion...

 

and your art.

 

 

 

- For Maru "Marz" Cummings,

  (March 1966 - October 1999).

 

(c) Brent M Harpur, 11th October 2012.

 

"It is eternity now; I am in the midst of it.
 It is about me in the sunshine; I am in it, as the butterfly in the light-laden air.
 Nothing has to come, it is now. Now is eternity; now is immortal life."
 (Richard Jefferies)