No MossA Poem by Nomenklaturaenough alreadyThey'd have a full coat if they were trees, but they've gathered none, as the name suggests. The great days are long gone and the irony inherent in every great title and lyric is reflected in the Grand Crawdaddy of them all Michael Phillip, middle-class mover and one time groover. It's anything but only rock'n'roll, and I wonder if any of them do - at some deep level - still like it? Rock steady Charlie sits glum at the back, his expression unchanged since Brian died. Keef exchanges winks with his playmate, happy now he's in the band half of the Faces wanted to be. The bass player is this year's model because Darryl is sick of not quite being in the band. Is anyone getting satisfaction 'cause I wonder if anyone is try- try- trying in the least bit anymore? So every year with a zero they trundle out on Lowenstein's advice at Mick's insistence and Captain Jack's dad does so with a smirk pretending he's Happy, ( Baby, keep me happy!) Charlie's thinking about horses after backing the worst horse in the world in the seventies. They know you can't always get what you want but if they try sometimes they'll get what they need. © 2015 Nomenklatura |
StatsAuthorNomenklaturaSpainAboutNovel in the process of being published by Unbound Books. refugee from now-defunct Jottify. Occasional poetry prize-winner, published in a few minor anthologies. more..Writing
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