AFTER by Sharron Rose

The HyperTexts
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

The HyperTexts