folkestone sky


Most everything we see becomes theatre
A wild sea the ocean’s one-night-only stage
Up above, storm clouds dancing to the gale’s orchestration
And on the shoreline it don’t need any seating to engage

An audience of strangers who never bought a ticket
This show, the dark clouds have put it on for free
Eyes wide open until the standing ovation
A curtain call for a starless mystery



And I’m feeling alright come tonight, come the morning
And I’m feeling alright staring at a restless sky
And there’s never going to be a replay or brand new season
I’ll never know if the story was the truth or just a lie

Time for some music. A fierce number to match the dark sky. It’s called ‘One Man Band’. I hope you enjoy.

If you’re interested in my inexpensive PROMO VIDEOS FOR AUTHORS  hit the link here or aim at the one at the top of this blog.

As ever, if any poets out there are interested in having their poems turned into songs then click here to check it out: POETRY TO SONG

If you are looking for all my other music then you’ll find it to download on BANDCAMP or you can stream and/or make a playlist of it on SPOTIFY

If you’re thinking about new t-shirts and similar for the summer, you might be interested in ZOOLON’S MERCHANDISE

Copyright © 2019, Zoolon Audio. All rights reserved. Unauthorised copying, reproduction, hiring, lending, public performance and broadcasting prohibited.


The sky will last forever
The clouds are temporary
In a 100 years from now
What remains will be a poisoned sea


Some will call it tragic
When the sea puts on its show for free
Just rotting fish and plastic
A becalmed toxic destiny

folkestone sky

Idiots and profiteers
Sit back and watch it on TV
The carcasses of whales
The cloak of everlasting synthetic debris

clouds dover (2)

It’s already far too late to save
The art of sky and clouds and sea
Maybe you’ll have a picture on the wall
Of nature’s old days creativity

dover harbour

Now we play the end game
Though blind fools will disagree
That once a long, long time ago
All of life on Earth crawled out of the sea

You can download all of my work on BANDCAMP  or stream from SPOTIFY

Copyright © 2019 Zoolon Audio.  Music (2019) & Artwork (2016-2019). All rights reserved.  Unauthorised copying, reproduction, hiring, lending, public performance and broadcasting prohibited.


tv3 (2)‘The Last Still Frame at The End of Time’ by Zoolon


The last piece of A4 paper ever floated by on the wind. It wasn’t long before it landed in the playground that once had swings, a roundabout and a climbing frame. Since the end of time the playground had become just rusty bent poles on messed up concrete. That didn’t matter as there were no more kids to play there.

An old lady walking her invisible dog found it. She remembered writing paper but not pens and ink or pencils.  She had no idea what trees were. Since the end of time the only things that were still upright were streetlights without any lightbulbs. Not having any light wasn’t a major problem as night-time was never dark and the sun never had to hide behind clouds like it did before she was born. She didn’t even know what clouds were.

The old lady had a name once, but not now. The piece of A4 paper fascinated her. Oblong and both sides the same shade of white. She asked her invisible dog if he knew what to do with it. Her invisible dog couldn’t bark let alone speak. He wasn’t much use.

Back home in her bouncy castle that never bounced anymore she laid the piece of A4 paper on the big wooden box she found the day that time officially ended. She had never got around to opening the big wooden box even though it rattled as if it had something inside.

If she hadn’t tripped and stumbled on top of the wooden box forcing the lid to open she’d have never found out what was inside. Even though she hurt her elbow and knees falling that didn’t matter to her. Inside the box the end of time forgot were diamonds, ruby rings, nuggets of gold and an HB grade dark blue coloured pencil with ‘Property of Peru’ written in small print on its side.

The  diamonds, ruby rings and nuggets of gold meant nothing to her. The thing was that in the fuss of her falling over the pencil tip had marked the last piece of A4 paper ever. A wiggly line in the top corner. She got to thinking. Deep thinking. It wasn’t long before she’d drawn a picture of her invisible dog. Just a sketch of what she thought he might look like. She showed it to him but he didn’t seem that interested. The old lady didn’t care. Without realizing it at first it soon dawned on her that she’d invented ART. She could hardly wait to tell her invisible cat when he got back home. Maybe living at the end of time wasn’t so bad after all.

Talking of ‘Clouds’ as I just was, here’s 60 second guitar recital I composed. Hope you like it;

Below links to my albums on Bandcamp;

Copyright © 2019 Zoolon Audio.  All rights reserved.  Unauthorised copying, reproduction, hiring, lending, public performance and broadcasting prohibited.


clouds7 (3)‘A Scouting Party of Clouds’ – 1

I’d almost forgotten what clouds looked like because of this empty sky heatwave in South East England. So hot for weeks and weeks without a cloud in the sky. The photos taken Tuesday evening of a scouting party of clouds has given me some hope the weather might just be changing back to the usual unpredictable stereotypical kind we all moan about. 30+ degrees centigrade day after day had been killing any creativity I claim to have – worse still my studio where I work is in an attic. The heat up there is indescribable.

clouds6 (2)‘A Scouting Party of Clouds’ – 2

On a different subject, I was, a few weeks back, asked a stupid question by that mate of mine I’ve mentioned before. He’s the one who asked me just before his driving theory test, ‘How many times am I allowed to drive round a roundabout?’ in case that question came up on his test.  That alone says it all about him.  So, this time he asks me, ‘What have seagulls and humans got in common – I bet I’ve got you with this one?’  He had got me with that one – until, on my walk back from the cinema (Ant-Man & The Wasp) the other day when I spotted a seagull attacking – as seagulls are prone to do – a black bin liner full of food waste. This particular gull had ripped the bag wide open and rubbish was scattered all over the road and pavement, but what he had got for himself was a banana. He gobbled up the banana, but left the skin. That, I thought was unusual because gulls normally scoff anything that might look edible. However, that gull had given me the answer to my mates question – i.e. the thing seagulls and humans have in common is that neither species eat banana skins! Got him good and proper.

When I told him my answer to his question, he said, ‘Wrong’. I said ‘Right’. He said, ‘The thing we both have in common is that neither the gulls nor the humans can teleport.’ The word ‘twat’ came to mind.

Given my heat induced absence of creativity I thought I’d give an older number another outing. I blogged it before, a long time back. It’s a longish lyric themed around the relationships and interaction between a fictional group of musicians busking in Berlin, hence the title, BUSKING IN BERLIN. Here it is, along with the opening few words;

Storm clouds on the horizon

No red sky tonight

The wind blows away the magic

Of a starry, starry night


Melissa cries for Candy

Candy dreams of John

John is suicidal

On how it all went wrong?


Larry plays the old guitar

Kate the mandolin

And Finn plays the accordion

They’re busking in Berlin


It’s a game of names and fortunes

A game played out in time

A game of life that ends in death

A mountain we must climb…


By the way, any poets out there who might want a poem put to song, then to find out how to contact me and learn more about this product, click here YOUR POETRY TO SONG

A new number, ‘A Trick of the Light’, from one of my favourite artists, The Villagers. Weird and excellent was ever;

The Villagers aside – Copyright © 2014 the song/2018 the rest, Zoolon Audio.  All rights reserved.  Unauthorised copying, reproduction, hiring, lending, public performance and broadcasting prohibited.


cloud‘Magic Glue’ by Zoolon

I made quick pen and paper notes while I was in Belgium, hoping I could read back what I wrote. My handwriting is useless. The photo above I took from ground level in a wild garden in a town called Braine Le Chateau. Here’s a few of the random words I wrote down, unedited, just as they arrived in my head. I’m a songwriter, I’ve never claimed to be a poet or a regular writer.

The sky isn’t angry, it’s in love with itself. A new arrival. Humidity. Air so sticky. A fat bellied storm full of whiskers, waves and wonders.

Sunshine clouds and blue skies mating. Sweating. Together they don’t care who’s watching.

Old man’s beard on flint. Bonfire sparks morph into angry bolts, split trees in two, get pissed off with rubber soled shoes spoiling the show. Blinding light wants to be blind darkness. Then it blinks. Eyes shut easy. Succeeds, then vanishes. Safety. What they call blue still looks yellow to me.

In a hollowed out trunk of a dying willow tree the blue tits go feed from an unwritten menu of titchy insects. The dragonflies leave all well alone aside from other dragonflies. Territorial dogfights. Winner takes all.

Baby black moorhens paddle in the reeds in hidden corners of the lake. Safe? No water rats. A heron glides above. Doesn’t need binoculars. Just checking things out. For now.

Sound Art is a choir of multicultural birds jamming. They make it up as they go along. Sing whatever they fancy on the day. Best free dawn to dusk gig in town.

The forest of pine silhouettes blankets dead earth in nowhere land. I’m not lost, but feel lost there. The garden has its own secret history. Tries to share with me, but we’re on different wavelengths. There’s something dark about the decades empty stables. No idea why.

Mushrooms and magic until they come to mow the grass. A crime against something? Buttercups, most likely. Maybe daisies, but I don’t think they’re that bothered.

Outside the big black gates a two way lane no wider than an obese human. No place for a fast getaway. Not safe to put your foot down.

I saw my first eagle today.

In the big garden of that place I felt like it knew the meaning of magic. I wonder if I’ll ever get a lyric out of that.

For some unaccountable, maybe easily understood thinking about it, reason, the garden reminded me of a lyric from my song on the Dream Rescuer album, ‘Rexie Believes in Magic’. Time for a reprise. I hope you like it;

Lastly, the magical Aurora from Norway and her take on Bowie’s ‘Life on Mars’.

Apart from the Bowie number, Copyright ©2017 Zoolon Audio.  All rights reserved.  Unauthorized copying, reproduction, hiring, lending, public performance and broadcasting prohibited.