Private Moment #75 “The Awakening”

private moments in paintings & poetryPrivate Moments #75: “The Awakening”
Poem Written by Jennifer Kiley
Post 18th August 2014
Poem for Private Writings: Chapter #75
“If I Fell In Love With You Would You Leave Me Too?”
Painting “Coming Back To Life” 
by Jk McCormack

“For that fine madness still he did retain,
Which rightly should possess a poet’s brain.”
~Michael Drayton~ (1563-1631)

coming back to life by jk mccormack (c) jkm 2014

Coming Back To Life  Jk McCormack (c) jkm 2008

hands reaching out into rain

“The Awakening” Haiku
By Madison Taylor
10th February 2009

Angels clearing clouds
Blue bleeds out in naked sky
Lights glowing in white

Dancing rainbow hues
Dream in golden consciousness
Depths of awareness

Float up greet freedom
Liberate the flow smoothly
Enter in to life

© madison taylor 2008

candle flame flickering gif

Rhapsody on a Theme of Paganini - Composer Rachmaninoff – Pianist Maksim Mrvica

garden waterfall private gazebo overgrown 4pmip&p

“Doorway to a Place of Enchantment”

“Creating is having the courage
to allow the seer into the private
moments of our imaginative lives.”

— Jkm the secret keeper
aka Jennifer Kiley McCormack

red-heart-for mj ghost 1

* * * * * * *

Private Moments #74 “Abandonment”

private moments in paintings & poetryPrivate Moments #74 “Abandonment”
Poem Written by Jennifer Kiley
Post 11th August 2014

Poem for Private Writings: Chapter #74
“The Return to Awareness”
Painting
“Far Away” by Jk McCormack
 

“For that fine madness still he did retain,
Which rightly should possess a poet’s brain.”
~Michael Drayton~ (1563-1631)

far away by jkmccormack (c) jkm 2014 neg

Far Away   jkmccormack (c) jkm 2008

hands reaching out into rain

“Abandonment” Haiku
By Madison Taylor
3rd February 2009

abandonment wounds
cutting out contact no words
stabs deep in the heart

ripping tissues red
corrupting sight blinding words
what was never was

fantasies crumble
beliefs shatter in pieces
ending accomplished

© madison taylor 2008

candle flame flickering gif

Rhapsody on a Theme of Paganini - Composer Rachmaninoff – Pianist Maksim Mrvica

garden waterfall private gazebo overgrown 4pmip&p

“Doorway to a Place of Enchantment”

“Creating is having the courage
to allow the seer into the private
moments of our imaginative lives.”

— Jkm the secret keeper
aka Jennifer Kiley McCormack

red-heart-for mj ghost 1

* * * * * * *

Private Moments #54 : No Restrictions

private moments in paintings & poetry
Private Moments #54: No Restrictions
Poem by Jennifer Kiley
Painting by Jk McCormack
Post Created 10th March 2014
Posted On Monday 24th March 2014
PRIVATE MOMENTS: PAINTINGS & POETRY

Private Writings: Chapter #54 — I Feel Fine

The Brain Processing Madness (c) JkM 2008

The Brain Processing Madness (c) JkM 2008

“For that fine madness still he did retain,
Which rightly should possess a poet’s brain.”
~Michael Drayton~
(1563-1631)

hands reaching out into rain

No Restrictions
Poem by Madison Taylor
16th September 2008

Play word games backwards
No restrictions has madness
Keen minds dividing

© Madison Taylor 2008

candle flame flickering gif

Maze

garden waterfall private gazebo overgrown 4pmip&p “Doorway to a Place of Enchantment”

*     *      *      *      *      *      *

“Creating is having the courage
to allow the seer into the private
moments of our imaginative lives.”
— JkM the secret keeper
aka Jennifer Kiley McCormack

*      *      *      *      *      *      *

Private Writings: Chapter #35 — Nervously Devoted to You

private writings to a psychoanalyst (c) Jk 2013

Private Writings: Chapter #35 — Nervously Devoted to You

Written by Jennifer Kiley
Illustrated by j. kiley
Introduction & Chapter #1
Published on March 19th 2013
Published Early Tuesday AM
Posted 19th November 2013

WARNING: ADULT LANGUAGE AND CONTENT.
NOT SUITABLE FOR CHILDREN.

ALL CHARACTERS ARE FICTITIOUS.
ANYONE RESEMBLING ANYONE LIVING OR DEAD
IS PURELY COINCIDENTAL.

Crypticistic Synopsis:

private writings to dr. annie haskell, psychoanalyst extraordinaire,
my choice in form of storytelling is using letters with dreams, thoughts, poems, images,
music, art, describing my scripts, recent one ‘brief sacrifice,’ film is waiting for release,
psychotherapy, psychoanalysis, inspirations, reflective comments, the inner & outer workings
of the mind, soul, body, emotions, and bipolar—prefer mentally creative, or interesting,
or a brain misfiring; in the mix are abuse, crashes, near drownings, illegal drugs presently,
hallucinations, hypersexuality, time warps, finding answers to unsolved mysteries, infatuations,
imagination, fantasy, the never ending need to discover my self, my soul, my eternal serenity, my bliss

see you down the rabbit hole.
namaste! madison taylor

Private Writings: Chapter #35 — Nervously Devoted to You

Tuesday, 13th May 2008

Dear Annie

I walked through the front door to the Ritz Hotel in Paris, France. It was magnificent. Scottie’s assistant, Celia, thought it would be romantic for the two of us. It feels so familiar. Everything is perfect. We have the Coco Chanel Suite. It is enormous and Celia arranged for exotic food with a bottle of Dom Perignon to wash it down. I noticed, she, also, made sure there was a well-stocked supply of real Coke to calm my stomach. Celia is a total sweetheart the way she takes care of Scottie, and me, when I am with her. Marvelous. We are going to freshen up, go down for some real food at the Ritz Hotel’s restaurant L’Espadon. Celia made arrangements for a late, late night dinner before we break open the Champagne in our suite. I am planning on filling up on some of these treats after a light meal. Until later, I am going to take a break from writing. I’ll wait for something to happen before I write again. Right now, I need food, drink and rest.

It’s really early in the morning in Paris. Scottie and I, evidently, slept in the same bed. After we got back to our suite, we took the Dom Perignon and treats and headed upstairs to the largest bedroom. I must have nodded off after we drank a few glasses. I did have some brie and crackers, plus caviar. That’s all I remember. I must have slept pretty soundly. When I woke a short while ago, I was undressed, except for my light yellow shirt. Scottie was lying sound asleep next to me. We were both under the same black silk throw. It felt like Scottie was completely naked. She usually likes sleeping unencumbered by clothing. I usually don’t sleep with anything between my body and what covers me either.

I must have been more exhausted than I felt and nodded off while we talked. That was really sweet, Scottie made me more comfortable. Removing all my clothes except for my shirt. She did unbutton it but thought better of taking it off. Maybe she was being extremely careful not to wake me. Or she was being delicate in order not to frighten me by making me naked. I am not totally sure how I would have reacted. No clothing and lying together on a huge bed. Our bodies were touching when I opened my eyes. We were as close as two people could be.

Finding my body was skin to shirt with Scottie’s naked warmth, I realized rather quickly, our bodies must have touched all night long. On our first night in Paris, we slept together. I didn’t expect it, but it felt good to be so close and my skin touching hers. The part that was the best, it felt good doing nothing but snuggling close together.

It’s later now, Annie. I want to tell you what happened when I tried to go back to sleep lying down again next to Scottie. I pulled back the throw enough to find the same spot where I was lying when I first woke up. I was being really careful not to wake Scottie. Once I was comfortable and close enough to her, it felt like I could feel her heart pounding threw her flesh. She was hot. My body started feeling the same heat. It was a little strange, the sensations, not something I was familiar with feeling. I wanted to reach out with my hand and touch Scottie. I wanted to know if it was okay to see how it felt inside of me to feel what my touching her skin felt like to me. Would it be okay or frightened. I wanted to know.

I tried to feel Scottie on her right shoulder from the front. When my left hand felt the soft, velvet of her skin, my whole left side absorbed what felt like an electric jolt that coursed through every fiber of muscle and vessels carrying blood. It shocked me. I could bearly breathe. My whole body slowly felt it was being paralyzed. I was completely overwhelmed by the sensations. Eventually, i was able to lie down near Scottie, but I was just far enough away that our bodies wouldn’t touch, not even accidentally.

I did manage to fall asleep again, but I was flooded with dreams and at least one distinctive nightmare. The lead presence in my nightmare was Hunter Marx. There is no escaping her, even in my sleep. In this nightmare for me, she is accepting an Oscar. It was for the character I wrote in her first film. When she seduced me, then denied it after I convinced Scottie to give her the part. She never got an Oscar for her role but she got buzz, a great agent, and any part she wanted after our film put her in the viewing field.

I’ll write more later. It time to get ready to head out to the set. Scottie doesn’t like waiting. I’m not sure where we will be heading. It’s a surprise. And no, I haven’t said a word about last night to anyone but you. No one can know what happened last night. Scottie, for this moment, needs to think, all we did last night is sleep. My meltdown is only between you and me. Until my body works, no one can know what I am up to. Especially Scottie, and most definitely not Hunter.

Oh, I heard gossip Hunter has been fooling about with a woman. She is married to a producer. Who knows, maybe she is finally claiming her true sexuality. Or she’s aiming for another part just out of her grasp.

I am going to try some wandering around Paris after I meet up with my friend Jonathan Stephens. Going to call him from the set. It’s way too early. He’s a night wanderer like me. So, he is bright and still sound asleep. For me it’s still middle of the night back on the West Coast.

I may finish this letter with photographs if I get some great shots. Be hopeful for me, and remember this is Jonathan meeting me and vice versa my meeting him for the first time in the flesh. It should be wild. He smokes the ganja, so I should get mellowed out with him.

Bye till I see you on Skype. I really can’t wait. I miss you terribly already. Au revoir.

“Time can be folded and joined with all elements in all places as the one ultimate moment when time is all at once. In this place everything happens on a continual loop following into a continuum of time forever into infinity. In the “Silver Box,” there is contained the ability to draw time into itself and create the perfect infinite moment.”

I will end this letter in this moment of now.

Fondly,
Madison

© madison taylor 2008

ritz paris hotel plaque smaller

ritz paris Most Romantic Hotel in Paris Ritz
Madison & Scottie’s Limousine Drops Them
At The Entrance to the Hotel Ritz in Paris
Directly From the Airport

ritz L'Espadon the restaurant at the Hotel Ritz ParisMadison & Scottie Have a Small Meal
At L’Espandon
Restaurant at the Hotel Ritz in Paris
Before Retiring to Their Suite
#302 The Coco Chanel Suite

ritz paris 302 Suite Coco Chanel at the Ritz Paris

ritz paris coco chanel suite social areaMadison & Scottie’s Sitting Room
Coco Chanel’s Suite #302
At Hotel Ritz in Paris

ritz champagne glass paris Madison & Scottie Toast Their Film
“Touch of the Spirit”
With Dom Perignon
Gift of the Hotel Ritz in Paris

ritz paris coco chanel suite staircaseHotel Ritz in Paris
Coco Chanel’s Suite #302
The Staircase
Leading Up to the Bedrooms

ritz Classic Style Coco Chanel Suit Hotel Ritz ParisHotel Ritz Paris France
Coco Chanel Hotel Suite #302
Master Bedroom

Somewhere In Time – John Barry

flowers yellow white pinkish with green background of leaves for niamhFor Scottie Love Madison ♥

rain in garden gif

Time Away Fake Love Dies
By Madison Taylor
13th May 2008

Time away love dies
Risking soul’s disappearance
Pounding hearts expand closer

Skin to flesh touching
Lights dimming in deepest night
Feel fear awaken

Touching love’s senses
Alerts deaths hidden shadows
Tears at body’s flesh

Peaceful calm takes hold
Surrounds with protective spell
Haunting will subside

Strength creates safety
Binding evil winds flow warm
Darkness is fading

© madison taylor 2008

Closeup of Antonio Canovas Sculpture of Cupid and Psyche at Musee du Louvre in Paris France

Closeup of Antonio Canovas Sculpture of Cupid and Psyche at Musee du Louvre in Paris France

paris painting postcard  Eiffel Tower by Angela StaehlingEiffel Tower by Angela Staehling

“A Dream
The beginning always starts
With a dream.
It is all a dream
In our own nightmares”
— Madison Taylor

jonathan stephens imaginary framedJonathan Stephens is Madison Taylor’s friend in Paris, France. 1st time meeting. Skype. actresses-with-long-hair-hairstyle frenchHunter Marx [taken 7 years ago in 2001 year of Hunter & Madison]

paris  Louvre et TuileriesLouvre at Tulleries

paris cherry blossomsCherry Blossoms of Springtime in Paris

paris beautiful building architectureExceptional Paris Architecture

play is not just play meryl streep

Private Writings: Chapter #33 — They Shoot Movies, Don’t They?

private writings to a psychoanalyst (c) Jk 2013

Private Writings — Chapter #33: They Shoot Movies, Don’t They?

Written by Jennifer Kiley
Illustrated by j. kiley
Introduction & Chapter #1
Published on March 19th 2013
Published Early Tuesday AM
Posted 5th November 2013

WARNING: ADULT LANGUAGE AND CONTENT.
NOT SUITABLE FOR CHILDREN.

ALL CHARACTERS ARE FICTITIOUS.
ANYONE RESEMBLING ANYONE LIVING OR DEAD
IS PURELY COINCIDENTAL.

Crypticistic Synopsis:

private writings to dr. annie haskell, psychoanalyst extraordinaire,
my choice in form of storytelling is using letters with dreams, thoughts, poems, images,
music, art, describing my scripts, recent one ‘brief sacrifice,’ film is waiting for release,
psychotherapy, psychoanalysis, inspirations, reflective comments, the inner & outer workings
of the mind, soul, body, emotions, and bipolar—prefer mentally creative, or interesting,
or a brain misfiring; in the mix are abuse, crashes, near drownings, illegal drugs presently,
hallucinations, hypersexuality, time warps, finding answers to unsolved mysteries, infatuations,
imagination, fantasy, the never ending need to discover my self, my soul, my eternal serenity, my bliss

see you down the rabbit hole.
namaste! madison taylor

Private Writings — Chapter #33: They Shoot Movies, Don’t They?

Tuesday, 29th April 2008

Dear Annie,

You want to know how I met Hunter Marx. It was one of Scottie’s wild industry parties. Anyone who was anyone was invited. And our casting director was asked to invite potential actors of both sexes, who might be right for the roles in my new screenplay. This was back on 2000. I wasn’t wary of this party. In fact, I welcomed it.

It was when I first saw Hunter. She was sitting motionless across the room. I watched her for a while. She was strikingly sensual. Her mystique resonated with me. My feelings told me she was different. I believed in my first impression, which I felt was positive. I trusted it. I was greatly mistaken. Now she haunts me. She gets inside my mind. What once I thought was the beginning, of something special turned into a nightmare. The feelings of closeness we shared disappeared. She was a mirage. What I felt existed was smoke and mirrors, signifying nothing.

I was working on the script tonight and now, the pages are filled with memories of times spent with Hunter. If she could only know what she did to my life, what she made me feel. I cannot believe she wanted me to be so tortured. Coming back into our lives, knowing how she ended it. When I listen to what was our song “Come What May,” from Moulin Rouge. The line that kills me, “I will love you til my dying day.” I still feel her arms holding me. Her eyes looking into mine, mine searching deeper into hers. I missed her so much, simply because I loved her, even after she deserted me.

I was nearly destroyed until I realized exactly what she had done. I was used by her and what I felt meant nothing to her. Her desires were to get close to Scottie and I gave her my blessing to steal everything that was mine. From the beginning, her mind was set on the role. Seducing me, the gullible writer, would convince Scottie to give Hunter Marx the part. Scottie was the wise one, she didn’t want Hunter. Because of me, she did get the lead in our film, anyway. That was her goal, at any cost, She never wanted me, my friendship, my love, but a role I created and the bitch is it made her. Now she gets anything she wants. She fucked with me to get my character that I created. It made her famous and what she is today. A bitch who gets what’s coming to her.

And now she is back. Scottie cast her in my new screenplay, “Touch of the Spirit.” I begged Scottie not to cast Hunter. She just didn’t understand back then or now, why I didn’t want her near either one of us, then or now. Poison, not blood ran in her veins, and a touch of evil lingered around her soul.

Scottie knew I had a crush on Hunter. I was always flirting with the women in our films. Nothing meant to go anywhere. It fed my muse. But with Hunter, the strength of the feelings she brought up inside me, I never expected her to have such a magnetic draw on me. I think I became a touch obsessed, which scared the shit out of me. My attractions didn’t bother Scottie. She knew I was innocent. Scottie always worried I would be hurt but she knew they were an inspiration for my muse. My muse loved the feelings the flirtations created, even if they were innocent with no intent on action. Hunter didn’t understand the rules. She was relentless with her intentions and they were not honest.

A strong physical attraction developed with Hunter. Stronger than anything I had felt in a long time. It was in early 2001, when Scottie finally decided she was going to cast Hunter Marx for their first film together. Hunter’s first major film as the lead. It was still an innocent enough time in the world before the impending insanity that descended and overwhelmed the world.

I did have someone to turn to when I needed to talk outside of therapy. Jonathan Stephens was my long-distance friend. We started chatting years before that time. It was primitive compared to having Skype now, which we both converted to. Chat rooms were weird and I never felt really comfortable using them. But after finding Jonathan, it became okay. With Skype, though, we can hear each other’s voice. Jonathan lives in Paris and has a flat in London. An artist by trade, doing mostly painting, but occasionally, enjoys writing, jumping around in various areas, from poetry to prose, to opinion commentary. It all supplements his income, to that of being an internationally known artist with a strong following. Exhibitions, selling his work on both sides of the Atlantic, Collectors follow him around the world. And then those who buy his art because they love his work and to have the pure pleasure of hanging a painting of Jonathan Stephens on their walls. Those are the people he absolutely adores. Yes, he makes a good living from the collectors, but to them he is not an artist but an investment. If he could, he would refuse them any pieces of his work.

I love what Jonathan paints. His art is predominantly in Abstract, which is my favorite style. My favorite artists after Jonathan are Jackson Pollock, Kandinsky, Vincent van Gogh and a great Monet. Claude, of course. I must say I use to get Monet mixed up with Manet, not because of their art but their names being so similar. I was young and more naive then.

Jonathan knows every detail about Hunter. All the excruciating pain she caused me to feel and the whys. I even told him how she seduced me and made me hide my feelings for her in front of other people. Also, my hidden pleasure, mixed together with confusion, huge amounts of emotional anguish, and her convincing me I was delusional. That I had imagined everything that went on between us. She denied we ever had a relationship. That is why Scottie thought I made the whole thing up about Hunter using me.

Jonathan was the only person who knew the truth. How my soul was filled with joy from the kindness and love Hunter showed me. I felt it was real. It only demonstrated to me the evil content of Hunter’s soul. The treachery and manipulation that surfaced after it was over. Her coldness set in and froze me out. All I could feel was total loss and abandonment. I told every minute detail to Jonathan. My witness to what Hunter did and how it made me feel crazy. The Bipolar mood swings flying me higher and lower. Her presence in my life practically destroyed everything inside of me.

This was the beginning, when the agoraphobia made its strategic hit and thoroughly immobilized my life. Between Scottie, Jonathan and a therapist I saw for a short time. A long story, but the short version, she couldn’t handle the combination of pot and lesbians and a gay man all at one time. She had some kind of cleansing conversions during the therapy sessions. Plus she had to make house calls. It freaked her out being in a lesbian couple’s house all alone. She may have thought or felt being around us lesbians and Jonathan’s gay image on a computer screen was far too contagious. We paid her a small fortune, so it wasn’t the money. Well, after her, there entered Dr. George. We all know how that turned out. Of course, at first, I thought he had an open mind and was a relatively good Psychotherapist. He got me out of the house again, sort of, I would, at least, go to his office.

Tomorrow is Scottie’s wild cast party, before heading over the France. I am still really nervous about the flying. But, at least, I got some of my anxiety out on paper about Hunter. Our first head to head will be at the party. Oh, give me strength. I don’t ever watch her films. I would close my eyes during her scenes in my screenplay. I, so, did not want to see her. I don’t know what I am going to do if I react badly to seeing her near Scottie. And what if she tries to say anything to me? What then?

I promise I will behave and bring this letter to you next week, our last session before flying to Paris. It is going to be hard to go, more because I’ll miss you. I know we are going to be doing Skype sessions and you will make sure I have all the scheduled appointment times for the whole month I am away. That is a really long time. I will write to you. It will center me. And I finally will be in the same city as Jonathan. You may wonder why we have never met in person before now. I will explain that when I see you next week.

I am exhausted and need to stop, Writing about Hunter has really messed with my brain.

Thank you for listening and being there. I already miss you.

I will keep you in the loop in the new film and I promise to catch you up more on “Brief Sacrifice” in my next letter. Too much is going on right now to think about it. I will leave you a quote from my last letter to hold you.

“Time can be folded and joined with all elements in all places as the one ultimate moment when time is all at once. In this place everything happens on a continual loop following into a continuum of time forever into infinity. In the “Silver Box,” there is contained the ability to draw time into itself and create the perfect infinite moment.”

I will end this letter in the moment of now.

Fondly,
Madison

© madison taylor 2008

Finale Moulin Rouge I Will Love You Til Our Dying Day

Annie Haskell --- Madison Tayler's Psychoanalyst's Office

Dr. Annie Haskell’s Office as a Psychoanalyst

Somewhere In Time – John Barry

red_flower_garden poppy field sunrise  pwRed Flower Poppy Field at Sunrise

rain in garden gif

Heart Break
Thrice Haiku
By Madison Taylor
6th May 2008

Heart break broke in two
Repairs are like Frankenstein’s
Stitching strings will pass on death

Electric circuits
Strikes lightning’s power preferred
Surging force toward love’s purpose

Awakens beauty
Life less in silence ending
Kissing’s spark brings breathes return

© madison taylor 2008

the red dragon black fire abstract robert-r  pwThe Red Dragon — Artist Robert R.

“A Dream
The beginning always starts out
With a dream.
It is all a dream
In our own nightmares”
— Madison Taylor

jonathan stephens imaginary framedJonathan Stephens is Madison Taylor’s friend in Paris, France. 1st time meeting. Skype.

Patrick is our Bengal cat in tree. He loves Scotties. They are buddies.   1612x1212 Patrick-our Bengal cat up in his tree-Scottie’s buddy

Havana Brown Kitten  Madison and Scottie's kitten One of the Two   800x600

Havana Brown Kitten Madison & Scottie’s. This cutie is Toker. He has a twin brother Mikey

actresses-with-long-hair-hairstyle frenchHunter Marx [taken 7 years ago in 2001 year Hunter & Madison met]

play is not just play meryl streep