Category Archives: mortality

Another icon of the sixties exits the stage. ‘Bye Peter Tork, you’ll live on, in re-runs.

Four, ‘Bye Two.

Ex-Monkee Peter Tork has gone and accompanied the Grim Reaper,
He’s hoping he can wangle an opening with St. Peter the Gatekeeper,
For old bandmates Dolenz and Nesmith this is a sad day,
Out on the unending Nostalgia Tour, still plugging away,
No chance of a trio now Pete’s on the last train to Clarkesville;
Now there’s only Micky and Mike left behind to half fill the bill.

(This came out a lot snarkier than intended, I don’t know why. Perhaps I’m a bit over too many groups/parts of groups/second cousins twice removed of groups still on the gravy train. (A sad day for Pete and fun music, in truth.)

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In this world of injustice, have faith, truth and justice sometimes shine out. And just as my belief was lapsing… Oh, too late.

Crying In The Chapel.

The hard harsh word came from on high, from the Pope,
Gods good servant McCarrick had lost his last hope,
The Pope didn’t hear his prayers or poor innocent pleas;
That pained him more than his poor old worn out knees.

Heaven knows, at 88 Theodore can ill-afford
To get unforgivably offside with his good Lord.

All those abuses of power, the secrets Ted held within
Now lay uncovered, obvious as Hell and ugly as sin,
The long serving Cardinal faces a humiliating defrocking,
No blessings for Ted in next year’s Vatican Christmas stocking.

At least when he’s loudly complaining in Purgatory
Many many priests will sympathise with his story.

Another time, another place. Music and photos bring you right back, don’t they?

Frank, David, Gabrielle And Rose, Et Al.

In a forgotten corner, discarded in dusty disarray
Lies a vast array of CDs I treasured back in the day,
Stacks of musty relics that don’t spin me any more
Since I transferred my allegiance to the iTunes store.

The living room expanded by two more precious feet
As I boxed up and labelled the old, odd and obsolete,
There were a few whimsical purchases to our collection
And so Shaggy went the same sad way as One Direction.

As I put Kylie and Right Said Fred in their rightful place
An old photo slipped out from ‘tween a plastic case,
And there I saw the face of my father, gone so long,
And in a trice ‘Too Sexy’ became a trite sad little song.

And I recall our holiday to Yosemite and that stop at Sonora,
Dad, me ‘n’ the kids packed in the back of the black Explorer,
Pouring from the air-conditioning out into the discomfiting heat,
The pool at the Gold Lodge offered a cool welcoming retreat.

Oh, I saw Dad in the shadows, sheltering from the sun and spray
As silly-ass sons numbers two and three and kids splashed away,
I only wonder now, as I look back on the best of Dads vacations
If I saw a twinkle in the eye of the oldest of three generations?

Not much help, being a blubber-mouth when a strong voice is required. Words can fail me sometimes, but my family never does.

In My Eye.

I sat misty eyed all through the eulogy,
Fine words heard makes it hard to see,
When my daughter rose I went to her side,
To stand strong, some comfort to provide.

If she faltered with her words I’d said
I’d take on the recitation in her stead,
But when I stood forth, as if to speak
Well, damn my eyes, they began to leak.

I had said I would speak up without a quaver
But on looking down the words began to waver,
So I stood by, mournfully manfully staunching my eye,
Ah, but my daughter spoke far more eloquently than I.

Sometimes, life is not fair. Sometimes, life is sad. Sometimes there’s nothing you can do.

Starry Night.

In the middle of the night, when you get that call
You know, the blackness can get darker, after all,
There’s nothing left to do
But step outside to think it through,
You find your mind and time stand terribly still
As you follow your feet on the climb up Calton Hill.

Look to the sky and see, in the unfathomable black
A myriad of stars, a galaxy blinking- and winking back,
And there’s nothing you can do
But gaze up to see the night through,
To wait and watch till in the east, black turns to grey
As slowly, ever slowly, the light dawns on a new day.

(For T)

Flicking through the ol’ holiday papers and stumbled across last years news. There, in the obituaries, it’s still sad news to see.

Off The Hook. (Ray Sawyer, Adieu.)

He sang songs about proper mothers and Rolling Stone covers
And keeping his beautiful woman away from wannabe lovers,
But Ray, lay down the cowboy hat, the eye patch and say ‘see ya later’
To Sylvia’s formidable mother and that bitchy long distance operator,
Put aside those sly wry songs, sung with a knowing wink of the eye,
Hang up your hat, hang up the phone, let it go, it’s time for goodbye. ¬†

The New Year is almost here. Another year older, looking over the shoulder. A cheery little post as we reach another milestone? Well, if you can’t laugh.. All joking aside, Happy New Year!

Annual Revue/School Time.

Now we’re done with the Yo- ho- hoing
It’s time to ask where the Hell the year is going?
And why have my later years flown by instead of slowing?

I recall, as a schoolboy, way back when
Listening to the dronings of dry dusty men-
Entire periods of time stood still, back then.

Now, I don’t like the way days zip by so fast,
Light years faster than they did in my dim dark past,
Considering how interminable one school term could last.