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There are many years to go,
and many friends i hope.
though some may hold the rose, some hold the rope.

and that's the end and that's the start of it.
that's the whole and that's the part of it.
that's the high and that's the heart of it.
that's the long and that's the short of it.
that's the best and that's the test in it.
that's the doubt, the doubt,
the trust in it.
that's the sight and that's the sound of it.
that's the gift and that's the trick in it….





Kat is the name of the rose ...




Miche ... beautiful


my tribute to her ..


the punishing kiss ...


Radiate simply .. the candle is burning so low for me,
Come to this strange place .. we'll talk over old times, we never cried
Work out my rhyme .. toss me the time .. lay by me you're mine ..
Your Persian eyes sparkle .. your lips, ruby blue .. never speak a sound
Lead me away .. come inside see my mind in kaleidoscope hue ..
Pale angel face, your eye-shadow and glitter is out of sight ,
No courtesan could begin to decipher your beam of light ..


Dreaming is not only an act of communication; it is also an aesthetic activity, a game of the imagination, a game that is a value in itself. Our dreams prove that to imagine - to dream about things that have not yet happened - is among mankind’s deepest needs. Herein lies the danger. If dreams were beautiful, they would quickly be forgotten …..


Here we are in a fabulous place
what are you gonna dream here ,
we are standing in this fabulous place
what are you gonna play here …
I know you love the high life, you love to leap around
you love to beat your chest and make your sound
but not here man - this is sacred ground …..


you just might see me cry for love ...



All time driven on by jealousy passes with a quickness unforeseen …
Jealousy occupies the mind more completely than passionate intellectual work …
A victim of jealousy knows not of boredom .


What can this life be worth if the first rehearsal for life is life itself …


and if god is a woman .. we still don't know who the father is


Now as the light is fading fast
and chances slip away
a time will come to pass …
then addicted to a perfumed poison
and betrayed by its aftertaste ..
oh we shall lose all wonder and find nothing in return,
for many are the substitutes but they're powerless on their own …


The accused will rise
To be torn in two
Guilty of nothing but loving you
This is the judgement ..


i still thirst for romance ...


Fly your willow branches
wrap your body round my soul
lay down your reeds and drums on my soft sheets
there are years behind us, reaching
to the place where hearts are beating …


the vanishing point ...


what is the sound ... of one hand clapping


as we are tempted by the fruit of another ...


hush ...


she is out of my reach ... she hides in shadows long gone




Being born is going blind
And bowing down a thousand times
To echoes strung , .. on pure temptation
Sorrow and solitude
These are the precious things
And the only words that are worth remembering …..


for there are several reasons why i am going to hell ...




I hope there's someone
who will take care of me
when i die, where will i go ..
I hope there's someone
who will set my heart free
let me rest when i am tired ..
There's a ghost on the horizon
when i go to bed ..
How will i fall asleep tonight
how will i rest my head ..


Pain is the breaking of the shell that encloses
your understanding …



for when two become as one ...




for my love is all maroon,
leaving rope burns of reddish ruse .....


the hurting of ...


of night and light, and the half light .....



then the deceit ....


Asylums with doors open wide,
Where people had paid to see inside ..
For entertainment they watch his body twist,
Behind his eyes he says, 'I still exist.'


and gone ...


not crawling from the wreckage ... not this time


A legacy so far removed ..
one day will be improved ,
eternal rights we left behind ..
we were the better kind ,
two the same, set free too
i always looked to you …..


footsteps wait to form ....


She is no English rose ,
But the blind singer
he's seen enough and he knows
to do a song about a long gone Irish girl ,
I got one for you , my Portobello Belle ..

She hears the maji rumble,
Bella Donna’s in the jungle …
She ain’t no garden flower ,
and there is distress in the tower ….


We are so young to have travelled this far
Old enough to know who we are
Wise enough to carry the scars
Without any blame, there's no one to blame
It's easy to forget what we learn
Waiting for the thrill to return
Feeling our desire to burn
We get drawn to the flame, so close to the flame …


sacrificed for another ....


the trap .... the tender trap


My love ...

Hurry to bless the hands that play ..
the mouth that speaks ..
the notes and strings :


Give me grace, oh mother
for i have rumbled quite a feast,
traced the footsteps of a priest in the snow,
and in my mind is a picture
of every face i ever loved
i travel lightly suck their blood before they go,
as god's assassins rode back into town,
and paved their way upon the stone cold ground …..


and kisses much sweeter than wine ...


and I'm willing to plead
How you don't want me
Hoping this torment will cease
Will I be released ..


i read books and draw life from the eye
all my life has been drawings from the eye ...


..... it's because sweet dreams are now made of this



the worst of life is beautiful
as it slips away in full retreat ...


all of my colours .. turn to blue
win or lose ...


There'll be lies, there'll be tears
A jury of your peers
With a pitiful look of experience
Hand down the judgement ..

And if I done wrong
And loved you too long
Stand up and just testify
How can you deny ..

Objection overruled
I wait for my reprieve
With the trust of the deceived
The wisdom of the fool ..


Is his sorrowful face
Too heavy for his head
Because he bowed it as something come over him
It was the judgement ..

And he falls to his knees ..
Have mercy on me ..
He clings to the hem of her gown ..
She says "Just take him down" …


I would not exchange the sorrows of my heart
for the joys of the multitude ..
And I would not have the tears that sadness makes,
to flow from my every part .. turn into laughter ..
I would that my life remain a tear and a smile :
***************
Khalil Gibran 1883 – 1931


The host is riding from Knocknarea
and over the grave of Clooth-na-Bare
Caoilte tossing his burning hair
and Niamh calling: 'Away, come away'

The winds awaken, the leaves whirl round
our cheeks are pale, our hair is unbound
our breasts are heaving, our eyes are agleam
Empty your heart of its mortal dream.

The host is riding from Knocknarea
and over the grave of Clooth-na-Bare
Caoilte tossing his burning hair
and Niamh calling: 'Away, come away' …

Our arms are awave, our lips are apart
and if anything should gaze on our rushing band
we come between him and the hope of his heart
we come between him and the deed of his hand.

The host is riding from Knocknarea
and over the grave of Clooth-na-Bare
Caoilte tossing his burning hair
and Niamh calling: 'Away, come away' …

W.B. Yeats ..... 1865 - 1939



.... you know her picture , we miss her picture


Unicorns and cannonballs
palaces and piers
Trumpets towers and tenements
wide oceans full of tears
Flags rags ferry boats
scimitars and scarves ..
Every precious dream and vision
underneath the stars :


Rave on Walt Whitman .. nose down in wet grass
Rave on fill the senses
on nature's bright green shady path ..
rave on Omar Khayyam .. rave on Kahlil Gibran :


'When said the moon to the stars in the sky
'Soon' said the wind that followed them all
'Who said the cloud that started to cry
'Me' said the rider as dry as a bone
'How said the sun that melted the ground
and 'why' said the river that refused to run
and 'where' said the thunder without a sound
'Here' said the rider and took up his gun
'No' said the stars to the moon in the sky
'No' said the trees that started to moan
'No' said the dust that blunted his eyes
'Yes' said the rider as white as a bone
'No' said the moon that rose from his sleep
'No' said the cry of the dying sun
'No' said the planet as it started to weep
'Yes' said the rider and laid down his gun ….


.... smoke on the water


i move in water, shore to shore
nothing more ...


it takes two to know ...


two to know ...


Love is a magic ray
emitted from the burning core
of the soul
and illuminating
the surrounding earth ..
It enables us
to perceive life
as a beautiful dream ,
between one awakening
and another


... the written word is a lie


beware the prevailing storms of life ...


Oh those who play with my heartstrings
do you play without a care
not up in this place that i live in
you won't find my heart out there ..

Some angels lay their clouds across my sky
they line up for me every night
some have wings and others sing
the rest do lazy ballets in the air …


And therein lies man's plight
Human time does not turn in a circle; it runs a straight line
That is why some men might not be happy
As happiness is the longing for repetition …


.... ghosts on my horizon


He spoke of lands not far
all lands they were in his mind
of fusion captured high
where all reason had captured his time …


and so to the flesh ..


i may have this effect on you .. if


such is life ...


catching angels as they fall ...


oh i am ...


the fire inside ..


the last breath of this dying rose ..


.... epitaph



... and we spoke about wings but you just flew


I sing as the moon sings ..
who am i, who am i
The greater grows my light
the further shall i fly
I hear the wind that blows
I hear the grass that grows
and all that i know
I know, i know …


A strange infatuation seems to grace the evening tide ..
Such imagination seems to help the feeling slide ..
Instant correlation sucks and breeds a pack of lies ..
Over-saturation curls the skin and tans the hide ..
I'll take it by your side …



Once in a while
i return to the fold
with people i call
my own.
even if time
is just a flicker of light
and we all have to
die alone …
What does it mean when
you belong to no one
when you're born with a name,
and you carry it on ….


this view of fresh heaven ...


learn well ... for the time is short


The girl goes dancing there
Escaped from her bitter youth
escaped out of her crowd
or out of her black cloud
Let her finish the dance …

finish the dance ...



gone ...


Marleen of my heart ....


Where the home in the valley meets the everyday prison
where the executioner's face is always well hidden
where hunger is ugly, where souls are forgotten
where black is the colour, and none is the number …

Reflect from the mountains so all souls can see it
then stand in the ocean until i start sinking
but i will know my song well before i start singing …


... hurt



the watcher of the skies ..



we need to concentrate on more than meets the eye ...


these things of ease ..


remedies ...


you know her picture .. whats wrong with this picture


My god betrays
watches my love bloom and cuts it down
dances and sways
lays on the charm
strangles the light from my days ..
Oh my god betrays


and so, does the spirit become separated from
the greater spirit, to move in the world of matter
and pass as a cloud over the mountain of sorrow
and the plains of joy to meet the breeze of death
and return whence it came ..
To the ocean of Love and Beauty

Khalil Gibran ..


The pain of war cannot exceed the woe of aftermath,
the drums will shake these castle walls …..
all ring wraiths ride in black ..


and i picked on the whims of a thousand or more
still pursuing the path that's been buried for years
all the dead wood from jungles and cities on fire
can't replace or relate, can't release or repair
take my hand and i'll show you what was and will be …..



Síocháin na dtonnta rinceach, síocháin na gainmhí bána, síocháin Iona.
Síocháin na gaoithe ag canadh, síocháin na gcladaigh, síocháin Iona.
Síocháin gol na bhfaoileán, síocháin crónán na mbeach, síocháin na meán lae socair.
Síocháin thaibhreamh na gcnoc, síocháin anáil na n-aingeal, síocháin Iona.
Síocháin na naomh is lucht cuardach, síocháin na manach is na ndraoithe, síocháin áit sínte na ríthe.
Síocháin na bhfothrach, síocháin na gcolúr sa chlogas, síocháin Iona.
Síocháin an croí áthasach, síocháin an intinn ar scíth, síocháin potaí is cogaisí mo ghrá gheal.
Síocháin a lámha leigheasach, síocháin an gáire leisciúil, síocháin Iona.
Síocháin an ní do-fheicthe, síocháin an spioraid, síocháin Iona.
Síocháin an spiorad, síocháin Iona



farewell the ashtray girl .. forebidden snowflake


Though i am old with wandering
through hollow lands and hilly lands,
i will find out where she has gone,
and kiss her lips and take her hands;
and walk among long dappled grass,
and pluck till time and times are done,
the silver apples of the moon,
the golden apples of the sun …..

W.B. Yeats : Song of the wandering Aengus


and way down we go ..


it was beauty that killed the beast ...



for there is no greater prize than this ...

No masters or kings
when the ritual begins ..
there is no sweeter innocence than our gentle sin ..
In the madness and soil of this sad earthly scene
only then we are human
only then we are clean ..



I used to be so innocent .. but that was a long time ago



Cocaine ...


femme ...


and now you know ..


or do you ...



Etude ...




and those lips .. that kiss



a kiss from a rose ..



and i do ..



the perfect dream is being there ...