Weiland

 Weiland
Certain impressions

Cemented imprints
  Moments, that always
  Will remain with me.
Stamps of clarity
Distinct interpretations
Times, to never forget
That only I may see.

A concert among many
A smallish venue
Dedicated patrons
Pressed against the gates.
At that precise instant
I saw it in his eyes
The sure realization
The nod to his mates.

He knew he had us
The right people
Pleased to meet us
At one with his crowd.
With each familiar track
We rose to the occasion
To a body of work
That made him proud.

Belying his frailty
Gaunt and ashen
Worn down by the life
And wearing the age.
The consummate showman
Doing his thing
The slightest of figures
Commanding the stage.

I remember it vividly
The crispness of the performance
Struck by the energy
The electricity, the pace.
Tight and professional
The purity of the music
The megaphonic intensity
The smile on his face.

The wail of the guitar
Meandering behind his words
The roar of the crowd
As the last note sustained.
All had been sung and done
Two plus hours invested
The whole band as one
Fully and entirely drained.

Standing, arm in arm
Having given their all
Drenched in their art
Soaking in our applause.
 Recognizing the enormity
Of our live experience
 Spent on the stage
Entirely, and just because.

RIP

 

Advertisements

Bittersweet

We shall…
“walk the caves of ice…

  taste anew the fruits of life… 
and drink the milk of Paradise”… (N. Peart)

for, perhaps, one last time.



IMG_20150528_180010[1]

We are…

Working men
of modest money.

We shall taste the dew
of the sweetest honey…


Our anticipation

is bittersweet.
With the realistic chance
it’s the last we’ll eat.

Just one more taste
the final course, complete.
Wondering if this
is our last,
delectable
satisfying treat.

We realize…

Entre nous, sadly
time won’t stand still.

Our circumstance
succumbs to free will.

The cerebral revelry.
That rhythmic mystic joy.
The analog kid

that lurks in every boy…


The enlightened faithful
feeling bittersweet.
T
he surreal possibility
it’s the last we’ll greet.

All of us together
hovering, above our seat.
Exulting in unison
for one, ultimate,
astounding feat.


We feel…

The spirit of radio
in this nation wide.
The holy triumvirate
is this nation’s pride.

A farewell to kings
they are our humble royalty.
For the last forty
they have our eternal loyalty…


Saying good-byeIMG_20150528_175906[1]
especially bittersweet.
The reluctant reality 

that it’s the last we’ll meet.

Live, our hearts alive
with wings on our feet.
Pulsating as one
to the closing, resounding
consummate beat.


We know…

For this one last victory
our signals will reconnect…
For this measure of three lives
our infinite respect.

 

 

%d bloggers like this: