MUSIC

This is a song I wrote about the prima ballerina. They are thinking of adding yoga to the Olympics as a discipline for balance, strength, and spirituality in sport; I say if you are searching for pain, poise, and perfection, mixed with balance Beauty and brains look no further than a Bolshoi ballerina.

This is a song I wrote about  A seventies hippie chick who in a menopausal midlife crisis decided to change her life forever after a summer of love in seventy six she left everything and everybody behind and went in search of a new nirvana and the big mighty Quinn .

This is a song ​I wrote after reading about the notorious Alcatraz prison, nicknamed "The Rock," which stands in San Francisco Bay. At one time, its inmates were forced to follow a strict code of silence, forbidden from speaking . They were tormented and tortured by the guards in what was known as the "treatment rooms" at the end of "Sunset Strip" a corridor leading t...

This is the song I wrote after listening to Paul McCartney talking about once bumping into a person outside his front door who believed himself to be Jesus. The ex Beatles member said that you can't be sure, and invited him in for a cup of tea. I joked recently with my godson, when he asked how old my soul was, I told him that it was a hand me down from Judas and many other creatures.

​This song I wrote after chatting with friend ; He used to be a  macho male. However with each decade Medallion Man / Mondeo Man an Metro man has given  way to the  "AI Amazonian " woman ;Now the male of our species has become "Maisonian Man" the house Dad.

This song was written for Patricia Barr, an extremely kind farmer's wife who used to look after me on a farm while I was growing up. Her life was terribly arduous; she had to run a smallholding while also trying to control four small children. She had demanding duties, including milking cows in the early morning, walking miles to the shop, baking bread, plucking game birds, cooking, cleaning,...

Here is a song I wrote after reading about a tough 1930s crime duo from South London. It was clear they were born out of poverty, starvation, and cruelty;Beginning with petty crime to survive they served six terms in borstal before  escalating up to  career criminals; Vengeance and violence were ritualised to a routine requirement in the gladiatorial gangland of east and south London . The status...

THE FAMILY TREE   This is a song I wrote about a friend who told me how his father died of a heart attack while trying to hack to death his old family tree. The woody perennial  had  stood at  high hilltop farm for a century  but one day his father decided out of the blue to kill It . This reminded me of the senseless butchering of the Sycamore Gap tree, and how this sort of savagery against such...

This is the song I wrote about friends of mine who had the choice from school of going down the pit to be a minor or to work in the steelworks one used to come home covered in orange dust from the steelworks and the other came home covered in black dust from the mining.

https://youtu.be/wlwtrOk5oIk This is a song I wrote from a poem that I scratched out a long time ago for a friend: a true Celt with a black hijab of hair, alabaster white skin, and blue husky dog eyes. A brimstone and bagpipes preacher who once baptized me in a cold stone water trough to  cleanse the sin from my soul and skin. God bless Mon Brave!!.

​A song wrote from a poem I scratched out about the suicidal tendencies of snails that started out as jellyfish swimming freely in the wide-sea: now, I can understand why, bonded on to terra firma, they may suffer from depression or suicidal tendencies, throwing themselves to their deaths under our feet on every garden path or rain wet street

A song I wrote as a tribute to Dolly Parton, I described her as sassy, classy, and brassy. She came from poverty in Locust Ridge, Tennessee, nestled in the Great Smoky Mountains. Raised alongside 11 siblings in a single room log cabin where they slept four to a bed she worked the family's sharecropping fields, sang in her grandfather's Pentecostal church, and learned to play on her first...

A MAN OR A MOUSE  A song I penned from a poem I wrote years ago. The ghost in our mortal machine is like a spiritual symbiotic twin, a collaborative companion that shares in our secular sin. Silently and secretively, it hides within our sapien skin, accompanying us from the womb to the tomb, and then ultimately giving evidence on the day of our doom. 

Here is a song I wrote about Mussolini after reading about his extreme OCD and control freak tendencies. He banned everything  the craziest things even getting your hair cut on a Monday, the national dish pasta, humor, music in a minor key, anyone displaying distress or depression, and any bad news! ;He banned anyone with a colloquial accents, card games, coffee, and Mickey Mouse. Unsurprisingly,...

This is a song I wrote about Caravaggio. Orphaned at age six when the plague claimed his parents and uncle, Caravaggio grew into a master painter with a volatile, violent temper. Constantly on the run with a papal death warrant calling for his decapitation, his nomadic chaos directly influenced his art often depicting his own face in severed heads like John the Baptist and Goliath. Despite his bri...

​This is a tune I wrote after watching a woman walk into my space with a whipping boy in tow. He was spellbound by this Queen Solitaire soul caged to her slave; Looking at this poor fellow, I briefly saw my reflection a slave to love.

"This is a song I wrote after listening to a black cab taxi driver in Glasgow giving  his  perspective on the future of the world; He painted quite a pessimist picture, but then, old men do. The young have a bright,  future of open optimism, and the old a dark one of doom and  dread. Leave the future to the young and the past to the old.

This is a song I scratched out after reading about the Chelsea Hotel, a bohemian refuge in New York that for a hundred and forty two years has been the home of poets, pagans, and peasants, giving these crazy creatives shelter and sanctuary. Everyone has passed through these hallowed halls. Some died here, most notably Dylan Thomas.  Oh, if only these soundproofed walls could speak.

​ Howard Hughes' legendary eccentricities stemmed from his mother, who isolated him as an only child in a sterile, germ-phobic bubble. Inheriting vast family wealth, he became a multi-millionaire at age 19. In later life, his mother's intense OCD haunted him; he reverted to a reclusive state, hiding from humanity in sealed, sanitized penthouse suites. Surviving on canned chicken soup, he...

This is a song I wrote about a little soirée gathering, nicknamed The O'Brien's Bar and Grill a neighbour's house full of wonderful, wacky people who slaughter their sobriety at speed and drift south of sanity as the evening wears on. Fantastic fun!!.

This is a song I wrote for my stepmother, Jean, who is a tower of strength. Even into her 80s, she remains exceptionally sharp of mind and strong. She had to put up with my father for 48 years, which, I can tell you, was a very heavy, burdensome cross to carry.

LOLITA BONITA  this is a tune I wrote about a raven head young teen dream who blows the fuses of all the old men in Witherspoon's, her nickname is the Lolita Bonita.

This is a song I wrote about revolution.   My grandfather and father were both communists, but once they tasted wealth, they became capitalists .  Sooner or later, every revolution fails due to human greed, even Fidel Castro had a private collection of American cars and an island of luxury. The Russian elite lived in  "Kremlin klass" whilst their comrades stayed in sackcloth class.  Now...

This is a song I wrote for Anna  a blues-bar chickadee who melted our minds every Sunday morning. She was a blue-blooded rock chick, educated at Harrogate Ladies’ College, who wore black leather, smoked Berkeley Menthols, and rode a motorbike. She used to walk into our dingy den of iniquity, sit in the corner teasing us to take a dare, then kill us dead with sarcasm and a switchblade stare.

This is a song I wrote about the stock markets around the world, which have their own language. In America, they assimilate idioms with animals. Everyone has heard of the "Wolf of Wall Street," but they also have sheep, lame ducks, sharks, gorillas, apes, butterflies, dogs, a dead cat bounce, cockroaches, chickens, stags, and the highly dangerous black swans. Hawks and doves act as the p...