Showing posts from March, 2015

The 5 Horsemen of the Apocalypse Together Again for 1 Last Gig.

Another picture from my archives.

It's amazing that an infinite number of 'identical' auditors, all look a little bit different.


And so it begins,
The election is here
A month and a half
Making missions clear

The tories telling us
'We saved Britain'
The Liberals claiming
It was us not them.

Labour will chime
We'd have more gain.
UKIP proclaiming
it's about immigration.

The Greens trying hard
to tell us that they've,
A plan that makes sense
If theIr brains don't fade

And as things stand
The media does say
Power rests with those
Who'd end the UK.

Lib Dems may be saved
By first past the post,
SNP last vote lost may find
More power than most.

On the up side theres a limit,
On how much parties spend
Democracy only  for sale,
When the rules they bend.

Democracy Churchill said,
of government is the worst
but its our only choice
so its also the first.

So despite the trauma
These weeks will bring,
It's better than having,
Dictators Praises to sing.


Having posted I piece I wrote for my youngest daughter a few days ago, I should probably post the one I wrote for my eldest daughter.

V for Vendetta: Evey walks to freedom.



I've a busy day
Lots to do, so I leave you
This little Haiku

AFTER THE DAY: Timothy's History, the dispute, the travellers: Eavesdropping.

The next morning Sophie woke the 'travellers' and ate breakfast with them in the big hall. Lilly had been awake for two hours cleaning and searching the room from top to bottom, and end to end, convinced that it was possible a listening device might be hidden somewhere. She had turned all the tables over and scrutinised every chair. And though she had found nothing was still convinced the effort was worth it

My first act of the day had been to hunt down James. I found him sitting under his favourite tree. (the one he used to hide in as a child.)

He smiled at me, "I know what you want." He said.

I sat down next to him saying, "Normally I think I'd be scolding you, 18 or not I don't really approve of eavesdropping, but I think these are special circumstances."

"I learned my lesson a long time ago: like you told me eavesdroppers never hear good of themselves, it took me a year to firgive Leanne. But like you say these are special circumstances.&qu…

Summer is coming.

I am not like others, when the sap of spring rises.
I'm not glad to see the cold months wane and end.
As green shoots sprout and new grass lengthens.
I dread the enduring torment summer will send.

I shut up all my windows, plan long days inside,
With food and drink fill up my cupboards
Go out only when I must, and hide.
from the foe, when ghastly summer buds.

What's your problem? Friends ask derisory
When summer invitations I refuse.
Come with us, they say,  have fun and party
I say I've work to do or some other ruse.

Wild Winter storms,  I can laugh them off,
Winds and Snow and Ice, fuss me not at all,
Soft petals of flowers opening, do not scoff
are my nemesis the source of my downfall.

For when they open they assail my eyes,
Tears run, blocked nose, unbearable itches.
Eyes, and throat, even my skin, no lies,
Sneezes, into misery my life pitches.

It's only hayfever they tell me.
'Only!' I'd rather have a bout of flu,
which when the are brought low by,


Something I wrote for my youngest daughter Willow.
Sorry about the intro dialogue, a little too much waffle.

Geraldine desktop setting 37

Geraldine desktop setting 37 (After Snixat changes the desktop)

Join me in Darkness.


Faulty Product.

Long day to replace a product,
That didn't work as advertised.
Birthday present for my daughter
Elation, Joy, and then she cried

We Took it back into the store,
Described just what went wrong.
An item not up to scratch I said
But the process took so long

Was it knocked or dropped?
He asked,  I said clearly: No.
Did she use it incorrectly?
He asked, again I told him:No.

"I'll just check" and turns it on
nothing happened, just as I said
He fiddled with the charger
Tried a different one instead.

Let me check this out he said,
I think I know what's wrong,
Through the coded access door
He went, saying "won't be long.

Some time later and he's back,
Concedes it won't switch on
Offers refund or replacement
At last things move along.

But then there's procedure which
Must be followed to the letter
Name address, receipt, sign this
But things are getting better.

Then at last were out the door.
Shiny replacement in a bag
Daughter is excited yet again,

The UFO in my garden. Part 2

Click here to read Part 1.

I kind of expected an 'adventure' to begin almost immediately,  but despite his alien appearance Snixat, was for all practical purposes, a stoned hippy. And one fond of music. The Internet and YouTube particularly, proved to be a revelation for him. Especially the availability of sixties music, and he was working his way through almost every acts available catalogue. I was glad he had found YouTube before my album collection. I didn't have any confidence the CD's would survive the experience, let alone the vinyl.

9 days after I first knocked myself out, I entered the UFO through the disconcerting door in empty air. The garden is overlooked but there was line of sight of the doorway from only one window,  three doors up. Every other window was blocked by a tree, a fence, or my garden shed. I had hung our a sheet on the washing line to block the last remaining opportunity of seeing me dissappear into thin air.

On this morning Snixat was explori…


I felt the need to upgrade my sketch of Snixat, and I also felt I should post a standalone version. So here it is.

New boy in the city.

This one isn'the just from the vaults, in my personal history, it's from the equivalent of a cave near the dead sea, about 1979, a first visit to London for a 16 year old from a quiet Derbyshire town.

New Boy in the City.

Bright lights,
Street lights,
Night Lights,
Go here,
Go there,
Buy this,
Buy some flair.

Ego trip drivers,
Force on through,
Acting like madmen,
Missing a screw.
Cars rush on by,
Breaks squeal and cry,
Confusion and sound,
Lights all around.

All are so urgent,
Each life is in crisis,
Stores hawking wares,
with electric devices.
Come look at this,
A sale not to miss.
Look at this here,
Spend and don't care.

The sell is so hard,
It drives me inside.
Force so relentless,
It closes my eyes.
The city is chaos,
Mankind gone mad.
I think I'd be angry,
But it seems so sad.

Geraldine Desktop setting 36.

A sneak preview of artwork destined for, The UFO in my Garden Part 2.

Expansion Modification.

Another track from my vaults. Again, I have no idea what it might mean it just sounded cool. And for some reason I named the whole album after this track.

AFTER THE DAY: Timothy's History, the dispute the travellers, the gathering.

Other people stopped and chatted to, 'the old one' through the evening, and I found mysef fascinated by how his benign smile seemed to become more and more strained, as the evening progressed. I heard at least two people ask him what the mountains were like, and his answer was beginning to sound increasingly rehearsed.

One large room in the old part of the farm, had been made up for the travellers, and as the evening ended, I saw Sophie show them where the bathroom and their room was. Just for a moment I thought I saw James behind the farm house. Part of me thought I should go and find him, eavesdropping is after all a little rude. But another part of me wanted to know what he managed to hear.

Lilly was busy whispering to people pointing them up the hill to the cove, where we would sometimes have the gathering in the summer. Some people were reluctant, it was October after all, and night to hoot. But Lilly is a very persuasive person when she wants to be. I dutifully followed.

Your Gods.

Whispered thoughts of the ages
Drifting on the winds of time
Carrying memories and legends
myths and dreams of mankind.

Stories written, stories told,
Truth hidden in plain sjght
Stores new, and stories old
Truth in darkness and in light.

Tangled up with falsehoods,
Cast down with deceitfull lies.
Fictions told to take control
Demand, tribute in naive lives.

Priests and popes, Vicars and bishops,
Mullahs, ayatollahs Caliphs and imams,
Claiming love hope peace and compassion,
Preaching hate to those they think do sin.

Well a plague upon your houses,
What good have gods ever done,
Behind each and every Saint we find
poor devils advocates, jobs undone.

Your fairy tale gods they do behave
like spoilt brash and petulant children
Or spiteful grotesque Orwelllan fathers,
With threats of ever lasting pain,

And for what,

Because reason would not be a slave?
Because of love you do not understand?
Because women would have equality?
Because a slave would shun the brand.

So keep your promised imor…


The Hologram of Snixat's Ship Geraldine before he changes the desktop.

The UFO in my garden.Part 1.

Click here to read All Parts

It landed in my garden. Although I didn't realize it was there at first. I just noticed from my window, that the beans I was growing and we're nearly ready to pick had been completely flattened. I had put my boots and gardening jacket on, gone out, picked up my spade and grumpily started to walk down and see if there was anything I could salvage. Cursing 11 year old Jamie from 3 doors up, because he was usually the one responsible for any trouble in our neighborhood.

Then I walked into it.  And knocked myself clean out.

When I woke up, it was a scene from a genuine alien abduction. Which I didn't believe in, so the next 10 minutes involved a good deal of conflict in, and reassessment of, my world view. I was on a  bed, a tube up my nose, something strapped to my arm. And a strange tall, grey skinned figure with a somewhat bulbous head, teardrop shaped, Jet Black shiny eyes, tiny upturned nose, narrow chin, and disconcertingly tiny mouth, was st…

Body Distortion Control

Body Distortion Control. I have no Idea what it means it just sounded good so I used it. From my Vaults.


Sunday slowly clambers to life
Grey, still air, grumbling light.
Hangovers reluctantly struggle awake
Serving penance for saturday night.

Kites and Buzzards soar on high,
Early wakers, with dogs walk by,
As slowly the world comes to life,
With weekend sluggish, idleness rife.

Many have Feet up whilst watching tellys,
As half hearted gardeners pull on wellies.
A long dull day with nothing to do,
What could be better,
I ask you.

Driving through the desert

Driving Through the Desert. Another one from the Vaults.

Granny Weatherwax.

Granny Weatherwax.  (My spell checker really hates that name.)

Tears on the cheeks of a child.

As the clouds gather in the sky,
Rain falls on the street outside,

And rivers run down my window,
Like tears on the cheeks of a child.

And as the night begins to fall,
So the witch hunt it begins.

And Rivers run down my window,
Like tears on the cheeks of a child

Secrets crawl from the shadows,
And outrage rages like wildfire.

And rivers run down my window,
Like tears on the cheeks of a child.

No fame now serves as a shield,
For old crimes thought forgotten.

And rivers run down my windows,
Like tears on the cheeks of a child.

Dark infamy drowns all in its course,
Staining virtuous and guilty alike.

And rivers run down my windows,
Like tears on the cheeks of a child.

Dark acts, defiling and  polluting,
A pestilence to all like a virus.

And rivers run down my windows,
Like tears on the cheeks of a child.

Can we discover truth preserved,
in the mingling of greed and sorrow.

And rivers run down my windows,
Like tears on the cheeks of a child.

And I find myself livid
With Hero's that n…

AFTER THE DAY: Lukes view.

Lukes View.

My Anti cold caller Poster.

My anti cold caller poster.

Death rides the 'Work of Genius'

Death, on the Librarians, 'work of genius' races to catch the Susan, The Band with Rocks in, and the Music.


The last time,
I traveled to see you.
You hid your face from me,
And all I saw was your shadow pass.

But still
Somehow you touched me,
I was there,
Knowing you would not come again,

Until today,
but though,
You showed me your face,
I only saw you smile.
But yet,
You touched me again.

Perhaps I shall meet you again,
In France.

And you then
Might present me,
With a diamond ring,
And even beads.

I think,
That might be,
A date.

AFTER THE DAY: Timothy's History, The Dispute: The Travellers meal part 2.

John stood quietly and I could tell he was reorganising his thoughts. "Which Ism, do you think they are?" He asked.

"I'm, not certain," I paused, "I think whoever they are, they planned to survive 'the day'. In a deliberately constructed and provisioned bunker. They undoubtedly think of themselves as 'the government', and no doubt want to take back what they think is theirs."
"What do you think we should do about them?
"I'm not sure. I think Lilly would talk about alliances and information gathering. It would certainly be a bad idea to antagonise them at this stage." I turned to John as a thought occurred to me, "Have you asked them about the smokers?"
"No, it seemed to me that the more ignorant they thought I was, the more I might learn about them."
"I think it would be good to ask them, I imagine they might be the source of the carts that come down from the North. Even their reaction to the…

The luggage in pursuit of Rincewind.

Some more art from the vault.

The luggage in pursuit of Rincewind.

Jason Ogg shoes Binky.

Another from the archives.
Jason Ogg shoes Binky: can you hear the Ant?

Sudden Awakening.

I rouse from a dream
Breathing fast
Heart racing
Wide, wide, awake.
As I have ever been.

The shadows of visions
Tumble across my thoughts
Dissolving as one mind flees,
And another clings
To fragments
Of chimeric memory.

Am I fearful?
Or am I excited?

It troubles me,
A memory,
Of a thought,
Vibrant and  vivid,
Now void of substance.


Yet still nagging
To be recalled.

And tears well, In my eyes,
As my heart settles,
My breathing slows.

Do I now sleep?
Will I recapture,
A fairy tale?

Or do I now wake,
to escape


AFTER THE DAY: Timothy's History, The Dispute: The Travellers meal part 1.

In the Valley, almost everything new was named by the children, no one planned it, it just happened that way: by the time we reached the community, the three new arrivals were 'the travellers.' John was chatting with the 'old one', whilst the children were monopolising the 'others'.

The 'others' seemed a bit uncomfortable with this, but 8 year old Shelly seemed to be on a mission to wear them down,  showing them doll after hand made wooden doll, she kept in her permanently attached bag, with detailed descriptions, of who they were, their names, what they did, what clothes they had, what clothes they were having made, what furniture they had in the big dolls house at home, and hundreds of other details.

The adults were all engaged in conversations, some quiet and discreet others quite loud and raucous. There was something of a party atmosphere, but with an odd undertone. Lilly in particular seemed to be standing back trying to appear disinterested in the…

Silent Moonlight.

Silent moonlight dusts leaves of hawthorns in darkness.
little nocturnal feet scuttle before light ends busyness,
Work now, for fear of the dangerous eyes of the light.
seeking morsels and soft goods for nests snug and tight.

Small busy creature, what eyes or ears keep you unseen,
When daytime comes do you sleep perchance to dream
Do you watch the sky's nervously for an owls silent flight,
Do you listen out for the soft paws of foxes in the night.

At home in your nest are there little hungry ones, unfed,
Does your nocturnal spouse await your return in dread
For without you can they raise your young without harm
What risks do you take in darkness, as you do, are you calm.

I listen to you, in the night, nocturnal feet I wish you well,
I hope you make it home, and labours see your larder full.
And you raise more little feet, to beckon future human ears.
As silent moonlight dusts leaves of hawthorn in darkness.


Winning Wool Wads
Winding Wheels Whirl
Warping Weaving Washing
Wear Warm Woolens

Working Whispering Weaseling
Wondering Wallowing Warring
Weakening Wishing Wagering
Winning Whimsical W's


An old electronic 'e-jay' track of mine, which I rather like, enjoy.

Nanny Ogg worries about Granny Weatherwax Turning to the Black.

Another piece of art from the archives as it were.

AFTER THE DAY: Timothy's History, The dispute: The travellers arrive.

The travellers changed everything, the dispute if anything got worse, and they gave us all sorts of new excuses to argue. But I get ahead of myself. I should tell first, how the travellers came to our valley. One day, whilst John, Michael and Sally were busy looking west, watching Bossman and the smokers, three figures had walked up the valley from the south east. Mark and Chang, who were helping Terry build the wall had seen them first, following the rout of the old overgrown road, through what had always been known as 'the big village'. Mark had run up to the community with the news. And whilst everyone had walked, or in the case of the children run full pelt down to the nearly complete wall, Mark had continued up to Luke's View to find John. And it was everyone, myself included. These were the first people from outside the Valley any of us had ever seen, without the aid of binoculars and a high vantage point. The new visitors acted in a friendly way, waving to us lined alo…

Black Mountain side.

My version of Black Mountain Side by Jimy Page: Page's arrangement was inspired by a traditional Irish folk song called "Down by Blackwaterside" and Bert Jansch's version of that song, on the album Jack Orion

The Storm.

Another relic of my own bygone age: written 1988.

The Storm.

There! There!
A flash almost too bright,
A gods hammer fractures the night.
And Fathers eyes alive,
As echos resound.

Outside we go,
Into rain like stair rods,
And Myolnir falls again,
And again,
And again.

Others run for cover
Whilst we stand laughing
In the heart of a tempest.
Faces upturned into the rain.
My arms outstretched
Welcoming forces into my heart.
That might squash me like an ant.
While the downpoor soaks our clothes,
Our hearts,
Our Skins,
Our Souls.
Down deeper,
To some unfathomed place.
Where mere words,
Cannot hope to reach.

I feel raised up,
Up into the storm,
The sorcerer and his apprentice,
Weilding and welded by nature's might.
By forces beyond the ken,
Of mortals,
Who cower
behind fragile beds.

The storm,
It's power,
It's fury,
It's passion
Belonged to me.

When father left
This Earth for other lands.
He left no great estates,
No boundless fortune,
No vast empire,
Flourished in his…

Visions Sing Through my Mind.

Another one from the vaults: about 1990 this time.

Visions Sing Through my Mind

As night falls on the city,
And the sky begins to burn,
Rain falls on the streetwise,
And the dream begins to turn.

And visions sing through my mind.

My passion rises unfulfilled
In the empire of my soul,
And my heart seeks desire,
In eyes of glowing coal.

And visions sing through my mind.

Shards of shattered light
Cascade through time,
Melting in the boiling air,
Of memory divine.

And visions sing through my mind.

The Library of Unseen University: with Librarian.

The Library of Unseen University: With Librarian.

It's never practical to show the fourth elephant, because it's always hidden behind the other three.

After some consideration: thought I would add some of my artwork. In this case Great A'Tuin. 

The Jewels.

The day came, we knew
As one day it must.
It seemed, all too soon,
But ever was it thus.

But you left us jewels, lit
by slow, and gooey light.
As brilliant as the stars,
Shining in the night.

Cowardly hero's, hung
Up beside their fargles
Ancient hero's fighting,
with a smile that sparkles.

Undead often dying
Just to take a photo,
Unexpected residents,
of a seasonal Grotto.

A brother with a God
with one eye out for eagles
A bloody Stupid designer.
bulding deadly showers.

A genius with great talent,
Painting oddly skewing smiles
With a Doodle in the corner
for to level mountains.

Hidden mountain kingdoms
Ladies with pointy hats,
a steely gaze, that Aten't dead,
And fearsome one eyed cats,

A copper, paper thin his soles,
rising high like battle bread
married to a dragon lady,
to power born and bred.

A fearsome walking suitcase,
anthropomorphic personification,
Shady guilds, and Chrysophase
A Pyramid building kingdom.

A Brachiating Librarian,
With a vocabulary of OOKs,
With a …

If You Wish Me.

Another one from my back catalogue,

If You Wish Me.

If you wish me far away?
This much will I be.

If you wish me for a friend?
This much will I be.

If you wish me for a lover?
This much will I be.

If you wish, like me, for so much more?
This much will I be.

For this love, is mine, for you,
and this you cannot change.

So to give you what you want
is engraved upon my heart

And my love would see you free,
If you are happier to part.

Alien Invasion.

He stood looking out over the debris, of the city, not one building was untouched. In the distance there was the strange other worldly sound of the alien weapons. Slowly they were drawing closer.

Systematically the aliens were working through the wreckage looking for survivors, and destroying any possible resistance.

It was like fighting machines. The aliens looked organic,  they had hands, heads, eyes, ears: even strange patchy fur, but they thought and acted in utterly incomprehensible ways. They had strong armour and deadly weaponry.

At first they had seemed friendly, giving and accepting gifts, but then they simply took things they wanted, and took offence when the owner would not give it up willingly. Another incident had followed, and another until before anyone realised it a full scale war was in progress. And then once they had won, the war had not stopped but proceeded to slavery, and genocide.

"They do not see us as sentient beings," he thought, " just animals…


There is something about poetry
that lends itself to melancholy.
That leads the mind to be morose, To draw misery and sorrow close.
But apply a little thought around, Something brighter can be found.
Every rhyme can be a quip, every verse becomes a hit,
Of something just to lift one up, More sure than wine in a cup.
So I wrote this as an aide memoire. Serious poems are not all there are.

The Greens.

The poem isn't mine I understand it to be 'anon' but have also seen it attributed to a 'Gary Larson' with some artwork attached (not the above) though he may have been the artist.

The above artwork is my own.
My baby’s left my lilypad.  My legs have been deep fried. I munch on flies. And when I die, they’ll stick me in formaldehyde.
Oh, I’ve got the greens baby. Oh, I’ve got the greens, I got the greens real bad.


Another early poem of mine.


Sunlight dances warmly on my skin,
And the merest whisper of a breeze,
Breathes it's delicate caress across my face.

The cloak of human foolishness
Slips lightly from me,
And the beauty of the world,
Seeps serenely into my soul.

My heart fills with delight,
As my senses poised in harmony,
Feel the mystic rain of peace
Drip from the tranquility of the air,
Gently washing my essence,
Of all cares and sorrows.

I move smoothly,
Without Haste.

Cast adrift
On currents of half remembered dreams.

I am,

The Spider.

Another Poem of mine from the mid 1980's, One of my favourites, even though I do say so myself.

The Spider.

Today I found a spider
living in my bath
to see her try and climb the sides,
well it was a laugh.

She struggled up, and then slid back,
Because the sides were much too smooth.
And I imagined little curses,
Which telling you would be too rude.

For a while I watched her,
But then I had to go,
Before I went, I picked her up,
And outside let her go.