John Bonham
There is an empty space,
between every note in rock 'n' roll,
where they have buried John Bonham,
and I can't help but think about
all the booze he drank,
the day he died.
Can't help but think about
how easily he must have fallen asleep,
or if he looked forward to playing later in the week
or if he even gave a shit at all.
I see old videos of a drummer,
vital and animated
crushing sounds into existence
and think:
How could you have died,
choking on your own bile,
how could you have left this world
through a vice like that?
Now, they call him the best of all time,
died 32 around all his friends,
an alcohol overdose to murder a god.
I just think it's a huge fucking shame, is all,
And shit, I don't even like Zeppelin.
|
5
favs |
1237 views
6 comments |
141 words
All rights reserved. |
Author's Note
Something small, for rock 'n' roll.
Other stories by Steven Pirani
Tags
Comments
You must
log in
to post comments.
I like this, could even be about Keith Moon.
Beautiful work. ***
Nice job.
"And shit, I don't even like Zeppelin." Me, either, but enjoyed this!
I love Zep. I grew up with them. Steven, i see you're 22. That might have something to do with your feelings towards Zep. At any rate I'll take this as a Bonham tribute.*
Not many people could do that half-time shuffle you hear on Fool in the Rain. I still miss Bonzo.