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Welcome to the Homepage of William Cooper


Greetings, weary web-travelers, and welcome to my homepage.
This site is mainly meant to be used as a vehicle to allow visitors to listen to some of the music I've written.
The songs are mostly short and incomplete at the moment but I'm still trying to develop my skill as a composer.
I hope to perform regular updates, hopefully on a nearly daily basis!

If you would like to comment on anything you see or hear here, please email me at :
venomous_bird@yahoo.com

Thank you for visiting, and have a good day!

I ask you to imagine that you wake up one day, as a medieval bard. . .

"You awaken, lightly damp with beads of dew, clad in high leather boots and earthy green and brown clothing, the red rays of the morning sun filtering down on you through many leafy branches, from a clear, nearly smogless sky. You lay beneath an apple tree, heavy with white blossoms, and against it rests your lute.

You shake the leaves and fragments of bark from your rough overcoat and slowly rise to your feet on stiff legs, pausing to stretch. Taking up your lute, you walk over to your horse, tied to a nearby tree. Sipping cold water from a bladder-skin on its sturdy back, you take your mount, and ride toward the castle of the nearest village to sell your wares, and play songs of adventure and morality."

Surely the world of those years was not all plagues, battles, and tortures. Why are we always told about the cataclysms of history; we ourselves in a crumbling world, in this corrupted present?

Surely much both good and interesting also happened in a thousand years of human history. But almost nothing positive is told of these times.

He who controls the past, controls the future.
He who controls the present, controls the past.

But who is a man to assert control over another man dishonestly?

Jesus said, "If you hold to my teaching, you are really my disciples. Then you will know the truth, and the truth will set you free."

Come, let us sing for joy to the Lord; let us shout aloud to the Rock of our salvation. Let us come before him with thanksgiving and extol him with music and song. - Psalm 95
Musical Works:
New Songs from 2006:
  • Caravan, an Arabian-sounding song about the trials of the present, and hope for the future
  • Troublemaking Bird, a whimsical tune in f-sharp major
  • Saved, a waltz with an odd introduction piece
  • Rotting Barn Interlude
  • Deep Concepts Carefully Expressed

    Somewhat Older Stuff:
  • A Hymn For Zion
  • Years Spent Blind
  • New Start to Yes. . . Another Song!
  • Peace Song
  • A Version of Greensleeves I Made
  • Behold, Your King is Coming, Seated On A Donkey's Colt!
  • This Song Was Written Late at Night
  • The Cold Mountain Stream
  • A Start. . .
  • Strings
  • Chimes
  • Some Horns
  • A Fairly Happy Tune!
  • A Bit of 6-8 Music
  • Song-Song Sing-Sang Song!
  • An Unnamed Part to an Unknown Song
  • Journeying
  • Piano and Cello, in D Major (Mostly)
  • Some More Stringy Music
  • Could This Be the Worst Song Ever?
  • MP3- A Not So Great Guitar Solo!
  • WMA - A Crazy Guitar Solo
  • WMA- Fascinating - A Cover of an Unreleased REM Song
  • WMA- Death, Where Is Your Sting?
  • MP3- A Minute and a Half of Weird Techno
  • WMA- A Nice South American Style Song With Many Different Chords
  • MP3- Help Me, Dr. Cheung
    Note - The song "Help Me, Dr. Cheung" is for purposes of humour only. Any resemblance to a work of legitimate musical quality is unintentional, and should be considered entirely coincidental.

  • A Poem I Wrote for a Dramatic Presentation in English Class
    Modesty bade me hold my peace,
    but my charge cannot be borne by I alone.
    Necessity is born upon the terms of this hour.
    Yes, modesty implores me so,
    I must keep my speech within no longer.

    I tell you, the inflection of an instant,
    e'en a half-thought, kept from birthing,
    in the very veering of a second's being, turns.

    Truth forbids us grasping
    the shrouded essence of a future veiled.

    We cannot know our fates.
    But for this minute's time, we may be dead.

    Some weighted down with death's pale mask,
    become blind dread, and madly thrash.

    Those who sleep know not but they dream.
    Those who wake see naught but they see.
    But they who know, claim not to know
    but that they know; that know they not.

    God willing, might we speak again.

    Another Poem

    Is that chaos you're weaving?
    Sinister face of mocking conspiracy.
    Control.
    Contorted visage grins.
    Blue mouths murmur, "curse to the masses."
    Speaking fleshy masks, labeled 'animal necessity'.

    The horse fell to a thousand pieces while he ran his first lap.
    He never got the chance to be glue.

    Is that shame you're wearing?
    Look out, nothing. Look out.
    Lascivous lips licked.
    A forked tongue flicks in and out, testing the air.
    Pheromones and hormones burn to ash.

    Yellow eye circles in dead gaze, murders hearts with lust.
    The snake waits for a frog.


    A Well Written Synopsis of Current Control
    (I don't agree with all the opinions presented personally, but this letter makes some good points)
    Jean said (August 17, 2005):

    Indeed, the whole spiritual dimension which keeps our souls alive is censored in those media controlled by the same people who want to control humanity. Give somebody enough power and unless he has deep rooted moral virtues, he will become a "megalomaniac criminal", as you say in your article. There has always been such criminals but, in the past, they generally restrained themselves to kill the bodies; today, they target the souls of their victims and consider the whole humanity as a prey.

    These are the so-called globalizator banksters` oligarchies who spend a lot of energy to destroy the spiritual roots of the humanity through hundreds of "philanthropic" fundations as well as the media and entertainment industries they control. These spiritual roots are called "family", "nation", "religion" and "nature"; those who try to destroy them know that the resulting humanity will be a soulness bio-robot species easy to control through fear, drugs, consumerism and bloody media shows.

    FAMILY means that a mother and a father give you their love which later enables you to love your own children as well as to feel empathy and compassion for the others people instead of being a sociopath. This is the chain of love the globalizators dont want you to perpetuate since their slaves have to be self-insulated by their own egotism.

    NATION means that you can identify yourself to the positive values usually defining a nation. The most important of these value is freedom. Identify yourself to a free nation gives you a sentiment of self-respect. The globalizators dont like you to have self-respect since a good slave has to be submissive.

    RELIGION means that you consider others as sisters and brothers, all being equal in front of the supreme authority of God. A religion can be racist as well (the "chosen people" syndrome) or intentionnally perverted but the original message of the great religious figures -Buddha, Jesus, Muhammed and Moses- is all about fraternity. The globalizators dont want to hear about fraternity since this would make people question the basis of their elitist world order. This was already why the Roman ruling classes were fighting Christianity until they could pervert it through the control of the priesthood.

    NATURE means that your body and your mind stay in contact with the natural elements they are originated from. No physical and mental health without non-perverted air, water and food, sunshine as well as a minimum sensorial contact with the soil, the water, the wind as well as the vegetable and animal world. How can you get these in the alienated urban life the globalizators force you to adopt by concentrating all the jobs in the cities and making you believe that "real life" is city life? Losing your physical and mental health, you become controllable since the only way left to feel good is consumerism, drug consumption and excitement through various 'mediatized' circus games. Today, to stay alive doesn't mean only to keep breathing. What's the use of breathing if you become the living dead?

    Ahhh, the Flu
    You: "Has this illness now taken from thee of thine speech?
    Thou must speak to me now! Thus to thee I beseech."

    Me: "My bellows do utter as ever they could,
    Yet my countenance 's marred,
    As though fashioned of wood!"

    You: "Alas, [pause, reflectively]
    There is nothing to do for such ill of the mind,
    but to pause and hold fast through the passage of time."

    Me: "'Tis true as you say it. Yea, honest it be.
    To rest and to sleep among feverish dreams,
    And to sip many liquids, and eat many fruits,
    Truth spoke as thus, be! This is all I can do."