To view an exhibition of works I admire (a more or less random collection, since it's based on pictures I happened to find on the net), please visit The Gallery. I've posted a few of my paintings there too: Go To Gallery

Links to other sites on the Web

My friend Tom works for George Lucas. This is his home page
My friend Dave does special effects work in Hollywood. This is his page
This is a page for vegetarians called Veggies Unite. (I'm a vegetarian.)
This page belongs to Nancy Sirianni, a musician in the New York area. I've seen her perform, and she is excellent. I'd like to try to catch her more often. Her most recent group (as far as I know) is called "The Scoldees."
Loudon Wainwright III is a musician whose songs I first heard while I was still in college. I've seen him perform a few times over the years. His music is terrific; by turn his songs are thought-provoking, moving, timely, or full of humor. This link will take you to a site that tracks his appearances, albums and so on.
This is PETA. (People for Ethical Treatment of Animals.) They can get a bit fanatical for my tastes, but reading their news pieces can be very informative.
This is CitySearch/Sidewalk.com for NYC. It's a good resource to find out who's playing where, as well as other interesting things to do.
This is the Global Music Network, a site with classical and jazz music and events.
This is the site for WBGO, the Newark, NJ public radio jazz station. You can listen to them live, via the net.
This is the site of WFUV, a NY public radio station. They list and sponsor many live music events in the area, folk, blues, jazz, rock and some ethnic music as well. They broadcast from Fordham University.
This is a harmless site that I find amusing. No offense to chimps.
Here's another group that I stumbled across, the Flying Neutrinos. Haven't managed to get to see them yet.
"Kucinich for President." Well, it was a nice idea.
My mother is an artist. This is her site. Commission her to do some work!

And now, here's a poem I like:

Come into the garden, Maud,

For the black bat, Night, has flown,

Come into the garden, Maud,

I am here at the gate alone;

And the woodbine spices are wafted abroad,

And the musk of the roses blown.

For a breeze of morning moves,

And the planet of Love is on high,

Beginning to faint in the light that she loves

On a bed of daffodil sky,

To faint in the light of the sun she loves,

To faint in his light, and to die.

All night have the roses heard

The flute, violin, bassoon;

All night has the casement jessamine stirr'd

To the dancers dancing in tune:

Till a silence fell with the waking bird,

And a hush with the setting moon.

I said to the lily, "There is but one

With whom she has heart to be gay.

When will the dancers leave her alone?

She is weary of dance and play."

Now half to the setting moon are gone,

And half to the rising day;

Low on the sand and loud on the stone

The last wheel echoes away.

I said to the rose, "The brief night goes

In babble and revel and wine.

O young lordlover, what sighs are those

For one that will never be thine?

But mine, but mine," so I sware to the rose,

"For ever and ever, mine."

And the soul of the rose went into my blood,

As the music clash'd in the hall;

And long by the garden lake I stood,

For I heard your rivulet fall

From the lake to the meadow and on to the wood,

Our wood, that is dearer than all;

From the meadow your walks have left so sweet

That whenever a March-wind sighs

He sets the jewelprint of your feet

In violets blue as your eyes,

To the woody hollows in which we meet

And the valleys of Paradise.

The slender acacia would not shake

One long milk-bloom on the tree;

The white lake-blossom fell into the lake,

As the pimpernel dozed on the lea;

But the rose was awake all night for your sake,

Knowing your promise to me;

The lilies and roses were all awake,

They sigh'd for the dawn and thee.

Queen rose of the rosebud garden of girls,

Come hither, the dances are done,

In gloss of satin and glimmer of pearls,

Queen lily and rose in one;

Shine out, little head, sunning over with curls,

To the flowers, and be their sun.

There has fallen a splendid tear

From the passion-flower at the gate.

She is coming, my dove, my dear;

She is coming, my life, my fate;

The red rose cries, "She is near, she is near;"

And the white rose weeps, "She is late;"

The larkspur listens, "I hear, I hear;"

And the lily whispers, "I wait."

She is coming, my own, my sweet;

Were it ever so airy a tread,

My heart would hear her and beat,

Were it earth in an earthy bed;

My dust would hear her and beat,

Had I lain for a century dead;

Would start and tremble under her feet,

And blossom in purple and red.

More poems and other items of interest may be found on Page Two: Go To Page 2

© 2006 baron_greystone@hotmail.com

No copyright infringement is intended towards the owners of individual creations posted here. This site is intended for the enjoyment of my circle of personal friends.

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