Mount Top Harp

Inspired by Mythical Irish folklore, with a smidgeon of Italian Renaissance for good measure.


Harp, of the mountain top;
Harp from beyond the dell.
Two harps to choose,
And cast that spell.

From treacherous ground,
To a mound so round.
Harmony to the din,
And realisation it's within.

Follow now your chartered brook.
Make thine eyes become unstuck.
From harboured walls; set free;
Ventured far into sea.

Choose tranquil waves - onward pale.
Avoid the torrent of the Gail.
Sail toward that luminescent,
Far off distance shore.

United by that one particular law!
Nature at the core;
So choose that door,
Upon which your future rests.

And listen to the harps at their best.
Be the guest and the host;
Lift thy tankered for the toast;
Now drink the wine of your good liking.

Feel the lightening striking,
Hitting the spring of wisdom's well;
Scented with a vibrant smell:
Harp from beyond the dell.
With cords from hell,
We bid you farewell.

Mount top Harp of harmony;
Spanning notes of the journey;
Bound by every sound that is worthy.
And onward bound the quest will be,
From Gene to Gene and tree to tree;
Until that treasure is begot.
And man remembers what it forgot.

Sages down the line;
Seers throughout time;
Subtly sublime in their masterful rhyme,
Directed through mine.
For future signs in peoples minds.

Guardian of the great toil,
Where buried treasure lay in soil.
Excavated by unfading lights gone by;
Showed the path with lantern high;
Showed the ground a one with sky.

Taishatrin folk did tell the tale,
Intent was on the vision bent,
Future lent before its sent.
Tale of the merriment,
Of the angels harp.
Cheering on all good hearts.

Now remember, when you cast your spell,
For the future to tell,
Avoid using harps from beyond the dell.
That's Dante's hell, avoided well.
Use this omen to quench your fire.
Ferment intent, so strong and pure.
Desire'th of a final cure.

No number two to divide and conquer.
One whole is greater than its parts
It's where it ends and where it starts
Creation and its Buona parts.
Guiding lost hearts on its way
Souls so light and free from pain.
The mount top harp plays again.

Dying Artist

Epic performance of a dying artist.

Too sensitive for this cruel world.

She stumbles, from pain to rage,

Screaming and destroyed on her stage.

Talent leaking through puncture holes;

Star dust fades before the eclipse.

People still pulling the purse,

Milking every last breathless verse.

Maybe it's time to reverse that curse?

Cats have eight, you have one;
Reserve that hearse!

Survive to see a clear setting sun.

Let the performance go on and on;

Without a premature interlude.

This Entr'acte is not the end!

You've earned the love,

Now it's time to spend.

And the haters just need a bone;

Their chests puffed up with every moan.

Borrowed time, we're all on loan.

Time alone will send you home.

Live a hundred times or more.

Leave Tragedy behind the door.

Drag the self from the pit.

Make that score your final hit.

The fool And The Master

I write poetry with the spontaneity and movement of a silken gown, falling slowly from the perfect form of a beautiful lady. I sculpt clay and carve my vision with simple strokes, that invokes, for a moment at least, the power that Art possesses; This of course is not good enough and so on I go to the next creative pursuit, in the name of struggle, perfection and mastery.

So, next I turn my hand, head and heart to painting. Painting so far, has me beaten and it is painting which most intrigues me; maybe for this reason alone. I wish to master painting with such grace, that it could be likened to a silken gloved hand, as it clasps delicately, but tightly, around a feather handled brush, without crushing its tender and original form [...or whatever, for those of you that dislike verboseness :) ]. Inadequacy can be hard to deal with, though I do also believe that inadequacy is a worthy state of affairs, because it is the required state, within the process of mastery. To master anything, one must first master oneself, including ones own inadequacies; to realise or acknowledge these short-comings, is to start the long journey toward mastery.

The next step is to conquer any fears that might be lurking in ones subconscious mind, these tend to rise to the surface like the slag in a smelter's pot, as the heat and pressure are turned up in the furnace of life; one must face these fears and they are plenty, let us not make any bones about that here.

Then comes determination, to fly in the face of adversity and not let one raindrop fall upon your shoulder, not one tear, not one morning dew drop. To take a running jump at that obstacle in your path; you will either clear it or fall flat on your face. Take solace when lying crumpled on the floor, face down; solace in the fact that you tried. You ran as fast as you could and you committed to the jump, as far as is humanly possible. When you get up and try that 'running jump', again and again, you will have mastered (no not running) determination. Success starts with and finishes with conquering/liberating your own mind and maybe as a consequence of that liberation, helping others to take that very same journey for themselves.

Forgiveness and understanding are also a part of mastery. When you are on this journey, it is like a crystallise changing into a butterfly, and just as the crystallise changes, so does the person making the journey; when one realises that this change is necessary and path of the course, then it becomes easier to understand others' mistakes or shifts in their nature/ attitudes etc. which are necessary, even in oneself. When undertaking to master something, this understanding grows and leads ultimately to forgiveness. So, it may be easy to judge a person based on a snapshot fragment of their life, but it is rarely a realistic picture of events. All of those that are trying to master something are trying to master themselves and this can be quite a task to complete. Anyone who undertakes such a task deserves a little bit of leeway.

Show me a self proclaimed master and I will show you someone who has given up on mastery and settled for being good at something.

Show me a fool who thinks that he/she is master of all that he/she purveys and I will show you a genius who knows that he/she is, but just a fool.

Allow the fool who tries, the grace to get up from their falls, so that they may continue their journey and reach their own elusive destination.

The G Neuron

Mixed Media Art

An exploration into the emotional nature of fluorescent colours on the human psyche. 

Four thousand segments of cut and stripped Willow Branches (Plus one blister), Hand painted and adhered to titanium white laminated board.

 These pictures don't do this piece any justice, in real life however, the multiple Two Photon absorption of the multiple electrons, inducing the shorter wave radiation emission, is stunning, mesmerising and simply energising. Turn down the lights and it actually hums ;)))

The Sculptor's Regret

She was almost nearly there;
Her pursed lips and rye smile;
Her grace and slender style.
She was almost nearly there;
Her prominent cheeks;
Her sensual frown;
She was almost nearly there.
Her soft gentle eyes;
Her lids hiding lies;
And she was;
oh so nearly there.
It was her chin, that failed to win, me over;
And as I tried to slice her guise;
Her form was forever lost.
She was almost nearly here.