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lyrics

John Whateley lived about a mile from town,
Up where the hills began to huddle thick;
We never thought his wits were very quick,
Seeing the way he let his farm run down.
He used to waste his time on some queer books
He’d found around the attic of his place,
Till funny lines got creased into his face,
And folks all said they didn’t like his looks.

When he began those night-howls we declared
He’d better be locked up away from harm,
So three men from the Aylesbury town farm
Went for him—but came back alone and scared.
They’d found him talking to two crouching things
That at their step flew off on great black wings.

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Bryant O'Hara Atlanta, Georgia

Programmer, Poet, Science Fiction/Anime Geek - not necessarily in that order.
I think I know enough about music to be dangerous.

I write poems and songs with science fictional elements.
I write music with whatever software or code I can find or write myself.
I use whatever musical genre works for the piece.
I am always searching for the "sense of wonder" and am amazed at where I find it.
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