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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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.  

At the eleventh hour we stop and remember, we stand in silence for a minute. Then life (and death) goes on.

Rolling Fields Of Red.

Today is the day the Great War ended,
It’s been one hundred years to the day,
On the bloody fields a peace descended,
Under those fields thousands molder away.

The world was back at war twenty years later,
More fathers and sons gone to eternal rest
One world war’s toll was bad, Two was greater,
One losing leader could not accept second best.

The most evolved on Gods earth are still learning,
Brave soldiers still march into fading memory,  
In fields the whole world over are old soldiers turning
At the thought of honour, glory and empty victory?

The crown weighs heavy on the Head at times. These are right royal troubling times. So show a little sympathy, please.

Pardon The Subject.

After a fresh new dawn, clear and bright
Dark times have come for the kingdoms Lord,
Another wrong to right, another obituary to write
When he who wields the pen yields to the sword.

(I try to leaven these posts with a bit of humor. I can’t see much to smile about on some of the days these day though.)

Ah, I somehow missed the passing of Burt Reynolds. So it’s a late eulogy to the late Burt.

Bye bye Burt.

It’s the final curtain for cool Cosmopolitan Bandit Burt,
The epitome of the seventies man, as your Mama can assert,
A twinkling eye, a cocked eyebrow, that mountebanks mustache-
Then and now he could elicit in the ladies a damn indecent hot flash.