A pessimist seizes the day, Believing tomorrow will stray. An optimist smiles Believing all trials Will end, and happiness stay.
Moving to London - Looking for Lodgings
So… I fly to London May 16th and I intend on sticking around for a while. With some good friends and relatives close by, I’m looking forward to a new chapter. I’ll be staying in Oval while I look at possible lodgings. Here’s where you might be able to help me out. What I Need - A double room, preferably in a house or a large flat with friendly people - Fast internet as...
Your Timely Mystery
You endear yourself to me with unplanned potency of expression, between awkward false starts and wicked smiles. You endear yourself to me by stirring the silence into whirlpools, until feeling surrounds us like a shield. You endear yourself to me in the lost evenings of certainty, when death tramples on dreams in formation. You endear yourself to me delicately, without explanation, and I bask...
Start with silence. Shelter the flame. The darkness breathes you in, No flickering within. No stained colours Or veiled windows. The needle must be blind To wake the sleeping mind. From such slumber As ignorance, Imagination grows As wonder tells, and shows. A child again In well-worn shoes. Shelter the climbing flame, Release the bonds of blame.
Interpersonal patience can be virtuous at times, when it breeds tolerance....
Right now we’re living in what Carl Sagan correctly termed a demon-haunted...– E. O. Wilson, New Scientist 21 April 2012 (via cuttlephilia)
There was a old landlord named Roger Who had a most liberal lodger She walked around nude And thought it quite prude That he never showed her his todger.
Woe betide the justice seeker Tainted by the truth God forgive the cry for change Inside the voting booth. No mercy for the tolerant Rules, once bent, can break A pox upon the sensual They rouse a wicked snake.
The push and pull of silence, The tidal thoughts within, Reshape the shores of reason, Recede, and rise again.
She wants to have her freedom She wants him by her side Her mind is torn and tangled She will not be denied. She needs to be alone now And he must understand Her feelings fill the ocean But solitude is land.
Die at Dawn
One day the sun will reach A hundred times its size A giant dressed in red Will swiftly vaporise This planet we call home But we will long be gone Five billion years hence What life will die at dawn?
A brimful cup of promise Brews silently each morn Inside the minds of many: Whose dream shall next be born?
Rains of Reason
Time has told me Change is certain Drink the darkness Draw the curtain. Take your chances Plant in season Stir the soils with Rains of reason.
Paradise or Fury
Gods are dying, Gods are dead, Gods have been diluted. Gods are coming, Gods have fled, Gods have burned and looted. Gods are walking, Gods above, Gods defy our reason. Gods are hatred, Gods are love, Gods are tough on treason. Gods created, Gods destroyed, Gods comprise the jury. Gods are watching Through the void: Paradise or fury.
To wish for things Neglects the wings That stiffen by your side. Your chance to fly Might pass you by While you caress your pride.
Some back story and pictures
I’ve updated my website bio with some nice pictures and back story. Leave the mystery to Agatha Christie I say. http://www.conorebbs.com/bio.cfm
Debut Album Release - Sweet Stasis
I’m happy to share the debut release from my brother’s band, which features my two brothers. It’s a free download if you like what you hear, and you just might. :) http://sweetstasis.bandcamp.com/ Enjoy! Conor
My greatest foe Is passing time The wistful voice And listless rhyme Of who I was In fearless days When wonder set My heart ablaze.
Flights of Fancy
Flights of fancy cloud the crowded skies, Through the rains of reason they will fly, Angels tears are dripping from the sky, None collide and faith shall never die.
Credit Crisis: Time for Solutions
Doom and gloom. We’re sick of it. We have much to be angry about. Gamblers have been bailed out. We are footing the bill. It is a clear case of moral hazard, and they should be punished. But it’s unlikely to happen, not at least in the short term. I’m not suggesting we lay off them, just that we split the spotlight and start focusing on solutions. The credit crisis is...
She fell asleep at twilight, Dissolved the glowing dream, Awoke in misty woodland, Too delicate to scream. The wind caressed her body, The darkness fed her fear, A voice cut through the silence: ‘Be still my love, I’m here’.
Give up, give in Get back in line! Do not respond To dreams, decline Those open hands They lead astray! Destroying peace For childish play.
Production Diary: The Garden Path
Hey guys, Drop-d.ie, an excellent Irish blog have just published an interview with Brian Lloyd, who directed my first music video for the song ‘The Garden Path’. It’s a great read: http://www.drop-d.ie/production-diary-the-garden-path-conor-ebbs/24697 Thanks again to Brian. Conor
There was an old woman named Pat Who was awfully close to her cat When stroking her fur Her pussy would purr Which rather unsettled the cat.
A Stitch in Time
Welfare for the wealthy, Rescue for the rich, Never mind the future, Run another stitch.
Only Winners Rise
See that lavish building there? It will be mine, that luscious lair. I’ve heard the insides gleam with gold; What treasures do the rich behold! Oh we will be so happy Dear When we are living here! See that tailored suit, oh my! I’ll draw the wrath of envy’s eye And hush each room in which I stand; Such honours do the rich command! Oh we will be so happy Dear, No faces...
I can’t abide positive music when sad. The only remedy for me is an...
Numbers and Chairs
All of this chaos And nothing has changed Musical chairs Replaced, re-arranged. Meek politicians Sucking the teat Of gluttonous pigs Who bask in retreat From numbers who speak And numbers who cry, Numbers that peak And numbers that die.
One Deep Breath
With one deep breath She showed the skies Her hidden sands. In breathing out She closed their eyes And swept her lands.
The earth is a very small stage in a vast cosmic arena. Think of the rivers of...– Carl Sagan (via carolinesegment)
It is the curse of compassion To suffer for the suffering of others, Diluting their tears with our own And sharing the weight between us. You who champion ignorance And dwell in the lonely halls of apathy Shall hear nothing but the echoes Of a voice long lost to feeling. You may keep your blinkered blessings.
Closer to Dead
An able-bodied man With cultivated mind Who knows of what, and when, And seeks to swiftly find, Shall often realise The more he looks ahead, The clearer grow the skies And closer he, to dead.
The saxophone player played To eaters beneath the shade To eaters who sat to eat Away from the pulsing heat. The saxophone player played To eaters who hoped and prayed The player would kindly leave And grant them a cool reprieve.
Music video news
My first music video shoot finished about half an hour ago in a dance studio in Dublin. Brian Lloyd, filmmaker and cinema critic, and all round professional and lovely fella, was behind the camera. Aisling Kennedy, a very talented ballerina based in London was in front of it. Huge thanks to Brian and Aisling, and Katherine Lewis from INYB for all her help in making this happen. I must also...
Sticks and stones Are nature’s bones Alone they may desert me Aligned they shall not hurt me.
The First Stone
Frozen in thought Despite the silk strands Of love’s gentle hands. Gifts have been brought, My bedside is bright But where is the light? Such is the curse Of silent relief: It favours the thief. When I disperse, Let it be known I cast the first stone.
I have no Spring In my step, No Summer In my dreams, Winter is upon me; Autumn drowned, It seems.
I shall not have it: your rolling respect. I won’t accrue it By courting correctness. I can’t subdue it; It lives, is it real? I must ignore it If I am to feel.
Preachers and Planters
Some want to see the world; Plant feet in foreign soils, Sallow skin To show the spoils. Some want the world to see; Plant their name in the clouds To rain praise Among the crowds. Some want the world to change; Plant seeds to sow a dream But lose faith And kick and scream. Some want to change the world; Plant smiles where anger shows; Come the rain, Compassion grows.
A Song Well Sung
You who speak of solitude As lack of social skill, You who endlessly intrude With rumours cold and shrill. Hold your flapping, purple tongue And learn to be alone. Living is a song well sung When truest selves are known.