sweetcharmedlife wrote on Aug 9
th, 2010 at 5:23pm:
Wavy Gravy:
"Two words I got from Charles Schulz and "Peanuts": Good Grief! We
are havin' some good grief today. John Luis Borge (sp.?) says every time
you say a line of William Shakespeare you become William Shakespeare at
that moment. Well I've been asked to speak for Robert Hunter, so Bob,
like the Dalai Lama says, all I can do is my best. This is an elegy for
Jerry.
"Jerry, my friend,
you've done it again,
even in your silence
the familiar pressure
comes to bear, demanding
I pull words from the air
with only this morning
and part of the afternoon
to compose an ode worthy
of one so particular
about every turn of phrase,
demanding it hit home
in a thousand ways
before making it his own,
and this I can't do alone.
Now that the singer is gone,
where shall I go for the song?
"Without your melody and taste
to lend an attitude of grace
a lyric is an orphan thing,
a hive with neither honey's taste
nor power to truly sting.
"What choice have I but to dare and
call your muse who thought to rest
out of the thin blue air
that out of the field of shared time,
a line or two might chance to shine --
"As ever when we called,
in hope if not in words,
the muse descends.
"How should she desert us now?
Scars of battle on her brow,
bedraggled feathers on her wings,
and yet she sings, she sings!
"May she bear thee to thy rest,
the ancient bower of flowers
beyond the solitude of days,
the tyranny of hours--
the wreath of shining laurel lie
upon your shaggy head
bestowing power to play the lyre
to legions of the dead
"If some part of that music
is heard in deepest dream,
or on some breeze of Summer
a snatch of golden theme,
we'll know you live inside us
with love that never parts
our good old Jack O'Diamonds
become the King of Hearts.
"I feel your silent laughter
at sentiments so bold
that dare to step across the line
to tell what must be told,
so I'll just say I love you,
which I never said before
and let it go at that old friend
the rest you may ignore.
"And then this short one is from me, the old psychedelic relic, Jer.
We're a double dip. This is a haiku for Jerry on the day of his demise:
"The fat man rocks out
Hinges fall off Heaven's door
"Come on in," says Bill"
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