Monday, January 11, 2016

Thin White Duke





Time lights a cigarette and lets you bum it,
   And says: “You only get so many puffs.”
You blow a tenor sax till you become it,
   You use guitar picks to unlock Life’s cuffs,
And find new pearls in music’s oyster bed
   And glitter like a living lightning rod
Who always marches seven steps ahead
   Of those who think that last week’s hit is God.
It must be more than death that makes us care;
   So when there’s only five years left to cry in,
You dance through this godawful sad affair
   Until Time plucks you like a dandelion—
      Your final breath a whisper from the bone:
      “Be wonderful. Reach out. You’re not alone.” 

 

Copyright 2016 Matthew J Wells

 

2 comments:

John Greiner-Ferris said...

Yeah, it's throwing me, too...it's when these particular people's work becomes such a part of lives?...i don't know what it is...i identified with him so much, especially when I was younger, so in a way, a part of us dies, too...or, even though we of course never met, his life and his music meant so much to me, and helped me grow, and now we won't have any of that in the world anymore, and we mourn...

R. Vincent Park said...

well said (no pun intened