Peter Green, first Fleetwood Mac guitarist, dies in his sleep. Music-wise, a sad sad loss; But it was a tragic loss fifty years ago when first he lost himself. (Sometimes you don’t do acid. Acid does you.)

Not Of This World.

I’ll say a sadly late farewell to Peter Green,
He’s gone from the dark place he’s long been,
This man who put his soul into Fleetwood Mac
Then went off on his detour, never to come back.

Peter took a little trip on the Cosmic Cab,
A one-way trip that deals out a heavy tab.

He yearned to soar high to that mystical place
Where the bound to Earth might see Gods face,
So, with enquiring open mind Lysergicly expanded
Pete saw Heaven knows what before he crash-landed.

So if its blissful enlightenment you’re tempted to find
Please- think of how poor lost Peter changed his mind.

 

©Obbverse

Ringo Starr bashes his way to eighty. Good to see Richard’s still kicking that kit.

Starr Bright.

Happy 80th birthday, Ringo Starr,
Who’d have thought you’d come this far?
Does the oldest member of the worlds best band
Take a moment to bow his head and silently stand?

On his auspicious day there’s a tinge of regret
As he remembers the glory days of a great quartet,
Since he’d first set the Beatles beat on ‘Love Me Do,’
Time has now cruelly edited the Fab Four down to two.

©Obbverse

Another Seventies Glam pop star now glimmers up high in the sky. Bye, Sweet Steve Priest.

Losing Our Sparkle.

Time has come to say goodbye to Steve Priest,
From this earthly contract he’s been released,
Bye,’Ballroom Blitz’ and ‘Fox On The Run,’
Finally Steve’s glitteringly Glam career is done.

Steve lays his heavy bass down at last,
Steve’s pounding beat is in the past,
Lets hope, as his Angel takes his spangly sleeve
He sweetly smiles and asks ‘are you ready, Steve?’

(So, yeah, okay, the last line makes more sense to the true Sweet fan.)

 

©Obbverse

Donald guilessly says, when talking up his unemployment numbers, ‘Hopefully George Floyd is looking down right now and saying “this is a great thing that’s happening for our country.” ‘ Huh?

The Usual Pigs Ear.

I used to think Don was a proper moron
But he’s proved me wrong, sad to admit,
As his latest speech ramblingly wore on
His words confirm he’s the complete half-wit.

After George Floyd’s life was thuggishly taken
By some swine misrepresenting the police,
Wouldn’t any prescient President worth his bacon
Speak less of unemployment and more of peace?

To say George is up there, agreeably beaming
Shows Donald’s both tone deaf and color blind,
At best, let’s just say Don’s delusionlly dreaming,
At worst, he’s simply out of his tiny freaking mind.
 

What, another dose of nasty medicine Don prescribes to fix what ails us?

Imperfect 2020 Vision.

The bright new year started with a descent into sickness,
But never fear, not when we’ve our Doctor Don on your case!
Don dispensed with any treatments with breath-taking quickness,
Doctor Don’s considered response took up too much breathing space.

After all, his diagnosis was Mild Chinese Influenza,
He couldn’t imagine it would settle in these here parts,
For the Genius who’s applied for membership of MENSA
Admitting making such a dumbass decision definitely smarts.

Dimly Don saw poor common people being sorely afflicted
Then, hot on the heels of covid came the stock market crash,
Mortality rising, property falling means he’s personally affected,
Don sobs at seeing the figures, the senseless loss of cold hard cash.

But now, with masked criminals roaming the dark streets
Generallisimo Don’s response is sure, swift and mighty hard,
Now its time for cool heads, Big Whopper Don turns up the heat!
Soon you literally won’t be able to breath for all the National Guard.

©Obbverse

American Law and Order 101; It’s not hard, it’s always been black and white. And so it goes… Again.

Shielded From Evil.

Another black man lies in the street,
Another white cop keeps him down,
So slowly a good heart ceases to beat;
That’s justice served in Chauvin Town.

Those moving pictures are a tragedy to behold,
Kneed evidence of another good ol’ boy in blue?
It makes any poor innocent mans blood run cold;
Pray, Officer Chauvin, who protects us from you?

 

©Obbverse

Donald takes a moment to deal with irksome issues. Well, it’s been a memorable week, for any number of reasons.

What Numbers Really Count?

Fly high that flag,
Strike up that band,
Don don’t wanna brag
But ain’t US grand?

‘Merica still is Number One
When totting up the covid tally,
But don’t sum up, the fun’s just begun
As Dons supporters begins to rally.

Combine Britain, Italy and Spain
And USA stays top o’ the heap,
‘Merica beats Brazil by twice again,
But that’s a record Don can keep.

He’s unbelievably willing and able
To show us he’s a gen-u-ine genius,
Red based and so rock solidly stable;
So he oh so incessantly tells us.

In Donald’s Disunited States
Since this ‘little flu’ took hold
US surpassing all mortality rates
Ironically left many Don supporters cold.

Respectfully dropping standards to half-mast
Don knew what he had to do,
Donald acted, and acted fast
By opening up and smiling through.

But don’t you feel danged proud,
Don’t it thrill  chill your mortal soul
To repurpose Old Glory as a funeral shroud,
Helping hide a Memorable veterans toll?

One hundred thousand covid dead,
And lo, that number’s growing,
Unmasked, unchecked, see it spread
Wither the fu fickle winds a’blowing.

Through Don’s impressive leadership
The sad bad numbers keep on rising,
Don won’t let his impassive mask slip.
Figures; he’s quite adept at disguising.

Donny has surpassed the highest test,
‘Merica must always takes first place,
Amongst Don’s GreaT people he’s the best,
Their truly exceptional special case.

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

Don stands shadowed by his flapping flag,
Teary of eye, tremulous of hand,
These numbers do  make his shoulders sag-
He’ll never get his ball out of the sand.

 

©Obbverse

Sadly it’s time to roll the end credits for Little Richard and Roy ‘Vegas’ Horn.

Two For The Show- A Two Part Obit.

A Bit About Roy.

At seventy-five the show’s over Siegfried’s Roy
He’s been escorted upstairs by Gods winged envoy,
His rough reviews could have ended many years ago
But his bloody big beastly tiger went and let him go.

A Little Bit About Little Richard.

So, the legendary Little Richard’s also done his dash,
That Tutti-Frutti guy with the pencil-thin moustache;
The mascaraed showman with that touch of panache
Has been booked by Saint Peter for one last big bash.

Pete, toss those harps and flowers off Mr Richard’s cloud,
Pete, get that Baby Grand from under it’s funereal shroud,
Little Richard’s gonna kick ass in this conservative crowd,
Lawdy, he’s playing that ‘ol Devil Music, proud and LOUD.

 

©Obbverse.

On April 25 Anzac Day dawns and it’s time to recall all those noble young lives sacrificed by warmongering old bastards. Peace is hard to come by.

Let’s Not Forget.

The great world powers had a Great big war,
The survivors prayed ‘one Big One, to end ’em all,’
But if One was great, let’s power up one more;
So, twice the names tacked up on the memorial wall.

As dying autumn leaves fall soft from the bough
Let’s remember old comrades who dutifully fought,
Ev’ry year leaves less to sadly gather in the here and now,
To recollect the fresh faced fallen, lives cut cruelly short.

In some sodding graveyard in some far-off land
In lush spring green fields flecked with poppy red
Soldiers untold lie silent while white crosses stand,
One war or Two, there’s no accounting for the dead.

I’m all locked down, feeling a little let down by home life, moaning about all these claustrophobic walls closing in. Perhaps a harsh reset about what really matters is in order? R.I.P. TBT, one of the good ones.

Grim Grin.

This stick at home virus is making my life a bane,
My wife is sick of hearing me grimblingly complain,
But today a story in the Star shut down my tired refrain
And I shut up, quietly sat down and read that sorry story again.

A man would be a fool not to have as happy a life as it could be
And Tim Brooke-Taylor’s take on this comedic life was a goodie,
A man is expected to grieve in po-faced silence- but should he?
Timbo wouldn’t begrudge me giggling in his memory would he?