A Naples, au fond des rues, on aperçoit le Vésuve, calme, endormi... Qui sait quand il se réveillera...
A Napoli si vede il Vesuvio quasi dapertutto...Dorme o no?

The Vesuvius
Side by side they walk
On this winding path,
Clinging to the hillside,
In the distance, the trembling sea…
Everything is calm and serene,
Spring's fragrance in the air.
They walk hand in hand,
And in the distance, Vesuvius…
The path is easy,
For two souls so wise.
Useless questions
Are not part of the journey.

Yet their hearts tighten,
And their hands slip apart,
Their gazes turn away,
Just steps from Vesuvius…
The past is fragile,
Precious but useless,
At the end of the trail,
Of dust and remnants…

These are their last words,
These are their last steps,
Unexpected vastness—
Before us, Vesuvius…

Le Vésuve

Nice groove from a jam…
…with Leon Carter on the drums, Dave Toolan and Charlie Villiers on the guitars, and myself on the bass and singing.

The lyrics are some excerpts from this rambling notepad poem I wrote;

Your Soul

So, how do you see your soul?
Can you put it into words?
A spoonful of honey from the gods?
Or a germ? or a thirst?
Is your soul a magic bean inside a biscuit tin?
Or a ‘pass the parcel’ mystery delight, waiting deep within?
Or simply a church candle flickering in the night?
Or is it like a mint imperial; round, smooth and white?
Is it wrapped in paper, hidden in a drawer?
Or more like a snowdrop on the forest floor?
Perhaps a shiny pearl inside an oyster shell…
Or the piece of grit at the centre of the pearl?!
Or is it a lotus flower in the middle of the pond?
A golden nugget, a lightbulb, or a daisy?
Treasure, buried beneath a giant redwood tree?
Is it a tea-light in an old jam jar, on the bookshelf?
Is it the water in a glass, or the glass itself?
A penny in a pudding or a fountain in a square?
The cherry on the bun? … or do you think there’s nothing there?

And does it remain constant, or how does it change?
Does it tarnish? Does it spoil?
Does it rust? Does it stain?
Does it radiate and deplete?
Could it be your body heat?
Does it mature like wine, or does it grow?
Or does it dim and diminish, does it corrode?
Is it impervious and unwavering?
Is it needy and long suffering? 
Is it passive and detached?
Or does it get dented and scratched?

Does it start out as a blank canvas, onto which you paint?
Does it get corrupted, when once it was a saint?
A block of marble you chisel and carve,
Into a marvellous work of art?
Or a fire ignited by a heavenly spark?
To sometimes smoulder and sometimes blaze?
Does it age, over the years, just like a face?
Does it feed on love received?
And wither if deprived?
Needing just a splash of water or a hug to be revived?

Do we all have the same soul?
‘A universal soul’ shared out within us all?

The same life-force, pure at the core
Of every singer, nurse, salesman, junky, tourist, whore?
Every Christian, Muslim, Jew, and Buddhist…
Pagan, Sikh, Scientologist, and Druid?
Every pusher, every addict
Every guard, and every convict?

Even every chicken, and even every fox?
Even the sewer rats and the sparrow-hawks?
And the ants and the plants?
What about the worms and the germs?

Could our deepest inner-selves 
All be one and the same?
If I had lived 
The life you’ve lived
Would I be just the same?

Careful as you choose your metaphor
Your essence to describe
You can make yourself believe anything
You’ll believe your own lies

Words in jest or bravado, or in false modesty
May cast the dye, and shape your mould
When your story is being told…

So how do you see your soul?
Answers please, in the comments below?!

Your Soul

'my own hell'

Most thoughts of mine, well, they must be contained.
Yet somehow they still form words I shouldn't say.
And sometimes I need to be locked in a cage.
Until I can demonstrate that I can manage my brain. 

Why are you fucking with me?
Oh, so abundantly.
It's fucking hard when I can't trust me.
Or anybody else.
So, go on bludgeoning me
until I'm obsolete, 
for this shit will always, forever repeat.
I've become my own hell. 
But I will prevail.
Catch some wind in my sail.
And go blaze my own trail...

my own hell

An impressionistic/improvisational piano piece.

Wilderness Wanderings (Part 2)- The Mist https://on.soundcloud.com/c1WnpumUc4dqz2H96

Wilderness Wanderings (Part 3)- The Bridge https://on.soundcloud.com/GmHMejcmAFWqvcy2A

Wilderness Wanderings (Part 1)- The Void

Life Cycles

Hip Hop fans on Soundcloud are likely to have come across the prolific talent of Ian Greaves (aka @IPG1). Ian's smart & slick vocal tracks are widely used in collaboration by other artists, as I've done here with one of his more popular lyric tracks, "Modern Times".  

On this collaboration, all lyrics are written & sung by IPG1, and most of the music is performed by me, with the exception of the sampled vocalization in the middle bridge and ending, and a few minor sound effects here & there. The beginning starts off normal enough, but the middle section takes a bit of a left turn before I 'go off' on the synth in the second half. I kind of enjoyed working the sliders on the live synth performance.   ;)

HUGE thanks to IPG1 for his generosity and helping me put together what is effectively my first hop hop tune, originally composed as an instrumental track. The lyrics are a topic close to my heart too, so really enjoyed being able to add my 2 cents in a way. 

Here's the link back to IPG1's original vocal track; please give him a listen!:
https://soundcloud.com/ipg1/modern-times-vocals-150-bpm

And here's a link to the instrumental version, which was composed first before adding Ian's lyrics:
https://soundcloud.com/user-432503709/modern-times-instrumental

I don't gotsta tell y'all this would be best played loud with headphones.   ;)

AI image designed & created using ChatPGT 4o

OUT OF THE BOX / DCOMPOSEUR - Reflective - DCOMPOSED

Out of the Box 3