In the gleaming prime of youthful twenty-eight,
A real estate savant, embraced by fate,
The whispers of success my name did grace,
In the mirror of achievement, I found my face.
A Rolls Royce Silver Shadow, sheathed in night,
Spoke of my victories, my tireless fight.
A bold statement, some said, with disdain,
A beacon of excess, a monument to gain.
Yet, their words fell on ears deafened by applause,
Their doubts, mere shadows, without a cause.
For my wealth was a magnet, a gleaming lure,
Not an off-putting signal, but a reassurance pure.
Success bred success, the world sought me,
A titan of trade, I chose to be.
The realms of real estate, my chosen spree,
Yet, the horizon beckoned, vast and free.
An affinity for the finest, a call of my heart,
Not as a boast, but a love for the art.
The thrum of engines, the gleam of the hood,
A testament to craftsmanship, to all that was good.
From the carriage of a Rolls, to the sleek lines of a Jag,
Each was a verse, not a mere brag.
Quality and safety, the duo I sought,
In the grand tapestry of time, these wonders I bought.
The third of my Rollers, a gem among all,
A two-door Mulliner-Park-Ward, standing tall.
A rarity, a beauty, it stole my gaze,
In its regal aura, my dreams did laze.
On Sundays, in the sanctuary of its back seat,
My feet buried in lamb's wool, a luxury replete.
With a cup of tea in hand, the Sunday Times spread wide,
I’d journey through words, on a literary tide.
The wooden picnic tray, my steady mate,
An altar for my tea, and news of the state.
In the tranquil cocoon of this motoring shrine,
In moments of silence, I found the divine.
Ah, me and my bipolar, we've had quite a ride,
Manic states came and went, with each new tide.
Buying 5 cars from Alf Barbagallo one day,
A DeTomaso, Daimler, Range Rover, Lamborghini, and Jaguar – what a display!
Then off to Northam, for blocks of land,
Twenty quarter-acre plots, all so grand.
A trip to Yalgoo, a shire auction spree,
Snapped up nearly every block, just for me.
In a constant pursuit of property and trade,
A collection of businesses, a real estate parade.
The moment I had them, I'd seek something new,
A brighter, more thrilling prospect to pursue.
In a manic state, I had another grand scheme,
Chartering a 747, for an Antarctic dream.
Scenic day trips to the icy expanse,
A brilliant idea, it seemed at first glance.
Everything lined up, ready to take flight,
Then tragedy struck, and it didn't feel right.
An Air New Zealand plane hit Mount Erebus,
The government stopped flights, causing quite a fuss.
But life's about timing, and as the years went by,
Antarctic flights resumed, soaring into the sky.
My brilliant idea, though halted in its prime,
Proved prescient later, just not at the time.
An unending passion for cars, I must confess,
Mercedes, BMW, Jaguar, Rolls Royce, each a jewel to possess.
But as soon as I had one, my eyes would stray,
Spotting something else sparkling, not far away.
The dealers knew me well, a familiar face,
Always seeking the next shiny car to embrace.
A never-ending chase, for something more alluring,
The thrill of the hunt, ever so enduring.
In Perth's finest restaurants, I dined like a king,
Jessica's at the Merlin, Coco's, the best they could bring.
The Garden Restaurant at the Hilton, a place to be seen,
The River Room at the Sheraton, where I’d so often been.
Oysters, lobsters, truffles, and caviar,
A culinary cornucopia, each dish a shining star.
Cuban cigars, fine wines, and cognac so divine,
In this world of opulence, I'd happily recline.
Champagne flowed like rivers, a golden cascade,
Dom Perignon, Bollinger, Veuve Cliquot, did not fade.
Moet's effervescence, a sensory delight,
These bubbles carried me through many a night.
Yet despite all my excesses, I drew a clear line,
When it came to drugs, I'd simply decline.
A Sicilian girlfriend, with connections so dire,
Tried to lure me, but drugs were a path I'd not acquire.
In this world of indulgence, I found my place,
Wines, liqueurs, and spirits, I'd gladly embrace.
A feast for the senses, each night anew,
Manic heights, the thrill of the chase, oh, how they flew.
Like a shark in the water, I had to keep moving,
An endless chase for the sparkle, always improving.
But each new endeavour, met the same fate,
Once in my grasp, the thrill would abate.
In the world of lotteries, I had a plan in hand,
Expensive cars as prizes, it was really quite grand.
A scheme so unique, in its own time,
Circumventing laws, the profits did climb.
Racing & Gaming tried to shut me down,
The Lotteries Commission complained all around.
I fought them in court, and victory was mine,
But the government's wrath would soon realign.
Facing intimidation and coercion, their tactics were vile,
To stop my success, they'd go the extra mile.
Embarrassed by their loss, they couldn't relent,
In the end, I yielded to the government's intent.
When America's Cup came to Fremantle's shore,
I had to be part of it, I wanted more.
A blimp for aerial views, a moneymaker I'd find,
For news media and spectators, a brilliant mind.
Before the internet was known, I phoned around the globe,
To find a blimp, with persistence I’d probe.
Only one was found, in the USA's hold,
But it was just bought by Alan Bond, I was told.
The irony struck, for Bond lived close by,
In Dalkeith, just a few doors down, oh my!
Our paths had crossed, ambitions intertwined,
In pursuit of the extraordinary, our dreams combined.
A collection of Persol sunglasses, to keep on hand,
Styles worn by Nicholson and James Bond, just as planned.
Jack's cool shades or those fit for a spy,
Every pair unique, as days went by.
Watches were next, not satisfied with just one,
From a simple Rolex, a new obsession had begun.
Solid 18 carat, diamond bezel and dial,
A $45,000 piece, my collection's crown jewel.
A wardrobe always full, with style and grace,
New clothes and accessories, for every time and place.
My bipolar took me on these wild adventures,
Excess and extravagance, without any censors.
One day I decided, I'd be a builder too,
No training or qualifications, but I'd see it through.
Halls Head was countryside, licenses weren't required,
An opportunity for success, I quickly acquired.
Kevin Parry and I struck a beneficial deal,
Land to build on, without paying, now that was surreal.
So I built and sold properties, like an eagle, I soared,
Then suddenly an end, a harsh reality not ignored.
The great property crash of the 80s, forced me to sell low,
But I managed to survive, unlike many I know.
Though the journey had ended, and the high was gone,
I learned from the experience, and simply moved on.
In the realm of polo, I couldn't resist,
I went all in, and the allure did persist.
Six ponies, a truck, and a groom at my side,
Stables and tack, with a confident stride.
As the months passed by, I became quite the rider,
My obsession with polo made my social life brighter.
Surrounded by groupies and the creme de la creme,
My manic adventures had found their new gem.
My injuries piled up, as I tried to excel,
Broken bones and concussions, but I wouldn't quell.
My training was lacking, but I didn't care,
For the thrill of the game, and the wild, rushing air.
Fox hunting came next, with the elite by my side,
Grand entrances on Grandy, I'd gallantly ride.
With the Peel Hunt Club, I'd chase after the game,
And revel in parties, embracing the fame.
In my quest for more, I bought the Foxy Lady,
A vessel of notoriety, fifty feet, quite shady.
But soon my eyes were set upon a much grander prize,
The Captain's Lady, two hundred feet, a splendid size.
Millions in cost, but no barrier for me,
I dove headfirst into this aquatic spree.
The paddle steamer Decoy, a Perth icon indeed,
My passion grew, an insatiable need.
Yet soon I grew bored of these watery delights,
My restless mind sought out new heights.
Aquatic adventures left in my wake,
I moved on, seeking more to undertake.
My aspirations soared, limitless and high,
A billionaire's status, with ambitions to the sky.
A shopping centre, the Daily News, the Langley Hotel,
Within my grasp, like a potent magic spell.
In the grand scheme of fortunes, a prospect caught my eye,
An Attapulgite mine, beneath the Australian sky.
From liquidation's embers, a new dawn could arise,
A global domination, a treasure in disguise.
Connell's empire fell, his loss my potential gain,
In the realm of clay riches, I could have staked my claim.
Such promise within reach, a moment so surreal,
Yet amidst the maelstrom, I didn’t close the deal.
Many more ventures beckoning, like a storm in full flight,
The mine, an opportunity, I let dissolve in the night.
In the grand tapestry of life, paths twist and spurn,
And thus, the Attapulgite crown, I chose not to earn.
Political ambitions, of course I aimed for the top,
A new party, prime minister, why would I stop?
Public finance company, pawnbroking empire too,
Devised clever methods, restrictions I'd outdo.
The government tried to halt my winning spree,
But I knew the law too well, in court I'd be free.
Peter Downing re-wrote the Act, but still, I'd find,
Another loophole, leaving the government behind.
And as for girls, to my eternal shame,
They too became part of my manic game.
I thought I sought perfection, pure and true,
But now I see, it was just my urge for something new.
I changed girls as often as I changed my cars,
Even Playmate of the Year couldn't reach the stars.
I look back now and see my foolish ways,
In that manic haze, where I spent my days.
The thrill of attainment, like clouds in the sky,
Fleeting and transient, as my mania passed by.
With every high conquered, and treasures amassed,
The interest waned, and I'd leave them at last.
For when the high faded, and reality returned,
My grand collections lost their allure, as I learned.
The cycle continued, with each manic phase,
A new obsession, a short-lived craze.
You know, despite the success and the lavish style,
I didn't turn into a brat all the while.
No boasting, no bragging, just a reserved quiet grace,
The journey itself was my true embrace.
Each goal that I sought was not so much for the prize,
But for the thrill of the chase, my spirit's high.
Adventure and challenge, my heart's cocaine,
A life lived with passion, and not in vain.
But heed my words, for the moral is clear,
It's all about balance, not just what we endear.
While manic episodes give us a thrill,
Finding balance and calm will be better still.
Then again, and I must admit,
The high peaks and euphoria are hard to quit.
For in those manic moments, I feel I can fly,
Exhilaration and omnipotence, as I reach for the sky.
It's true that balance might be wise and sound,
But it can't compete with the highs that abound.
And while seeking help and finding middle ground,
The thrill of mania is supremely profound.
So it's a constant tug-of-war, a never-ending game,
Between the allure of the highs and the need to tame.
But deep within, I know the truth prevails,
You must embrace balance to navigate these sails.
As in the labyrinth of life, with its twists and turns,
A beacon of hope, undiminished, still burns.
For in the heart of a warrior, resilience resides,
Through each high and low, his spirit abides.
This sweeping story tells my epic tale,
Of achievements unbounded, and without fail,
A life lived to the fullest, with goals achieved,
And lessons learned, with wisdom received.
I've caused some hurt, I know well, to my shame,
A fact I sadly cannot reclaim,
But I ask myself now, would I do it all again?
Hah, with bipolar, no choice, the answer's plain.
Now although this massive missive, might seem complete,
A life's tale unfolded, in verses neat.
Yet it's but the tip of the iceberg, so discrete,
For each memory lived, is a feat replete.
The depth of the story, remains untold,
More layers to discover, more tales to unfold.
In the vast ocean of life, secrets behold,
Each moment a gem, more precious than gold.
Peter Pickering · Bipolar Bear