Today's November PAD Chapbook Challenge asked for a poem having something to do with music. These people all had something to do with music, and they all died after the turn of the twenty-first century. And if anyone wants to be a wanker and demand to know how I can have Jeff Hanneman and David Cassidy in the same collage, I will tell you that I can because it's my damn collage and I'm not a narrow fuck who only listens to one kind of music.
However, the great thing about being someone that no-one pays attention to is that I can do something like this, and ain't nobody gonna give a fuck.
Anyone who knows me knows that I love Jimi Hendrix, even though I was only five years old when he died.
I actually didn't discover Jimi's music until I was twelve. My parents weren't keen for him. They had records by The Beatles, Bob Dylan, The Doors, and The Rolling Stones, all of whom I loved, but no Hendrix.
Jimi Hendrix was a hero to me, not that I thought I'd ever be able to play the guitar like he did. He was a true poet, and he was true to himself. He had a certain confidence which I knew I'd never have.
I may live to regret being open about this (I usually live to regret being open about things) but my brother and I once had a chat with Jimi Hendrix via the Ouija board. He was very cool. Know right now that I'm not going to argue about this. You don't think it happened and think it was just our subconscious, fine. Maybe that's so. I think it happened, and it was a great moment in my life.
I think Jimi wouldn't mind if I were to answer his song lyrics with a poem of my own.
Well she’s walking through the clouds
With a circus mind
That’s running wild
Butterflies and zebras and moonbeams
And fairly tales
That’s all she ever thinks about
Riding the wind
When I’m sad she comes to me
With a thousand smiles
She gives to me free
It’s alright, she says
It’s alright
Take anything you want from me
Anything
Fly on, little wing
-- Jimi Hendrix (1967)
For the big brother I never had in this life, here's my answer to your poem.
I remember that girl
Circus mind, running wild
A heart that believed in fairy tales
She wasn't as bad as everyone made her believe
Wild child with her head in the clouds
Who just wanted everything to be a beautiful dream
Her dreams became nightmares
As the world was revealed to be hard and uncaring
And she realized that the songs must come from somewhere else
I watched the Jimi Hendrix documentary, Voodoo Child, this evening.
I didn't really become a Jimi Hendrix fan until I was in my teens. He died when I was only five years old. I saw a documentary about him when I was eighteen or nineteen, and it was good, but this documentary reveals more of his personal thoughts. He was brilliant and he left a lot of wisdom for the world.
The wisdom he imparted to me today is to stop looking for adulation and approval from others. This is something that I've struggled with my entire life.
When asked how it felt to receive so many compliments about his work, Jimi said that he really didn't care about compliments, in fact, he found that they distracted him from what was important: creation.
I think that's what it really means to be secure in oneself. Not so much thinking that one is flawless, but to be able to see the worth of one's goals and actions regardless of the opinions of the masses.
Lots of views and comments stroke the needy ego of the insecure and wounded child that remains within the crusty, curmudgeonly, and likely not at all tasty exterior shell which houses my soul.
This becomes a distraction to the creator. I start wanting to please my visitors rather than express myself through my words.
Next time I get stuck in that unharmonious groove, I need to remember Jimi's wise thoughts on the matter.
I will always be a fan of Jimi Hendrix the musician.
Perhaps most people won't understand this, but that doesn't matter.
I also appreciate Jimi Hendrix the philosopher, and I'm grateful for the wisdom and works that he left behind.
The prompt today was fear. I have always thought one of the worst things that could happen would be to develop dementia. As Glen Campbell's widow said, it's better to die some other way.
Malcolm Young handled his dementia diagnosis with unbelievable grace and dignity. A lot of people decried him as being a rather uninteresting person. I never saw him as such. He was shy and came from humble circumstances. He wasn't given to bragging about himself or strutting around like a peacock. Personally, I found his lack of bravado impressive.
Malcolm was truly brave as opposed to being a puffed-up poser. He stood only five foot three but never backed down regardless of the size of his opponent. Sadly, the processes which cause dementia are not something that even the bravest of souls can win against.
This is my favorite of the angel wing manipulations I made a couple of years ago. I think it expresses the truth of the relationship between these fellows, who are, in my opinion, two parts of the same soul
This Haiga-turned-Haibun started out being about me and my chronic condition of being overworked, broke, and tired, but I decided instead to dedicate it to someone who was tough yet tender, a kind gentleman with a rough exterior who cared about others but would suffer bullshit from no-one.
Lemmy Kilmister has been gone from this world for close to two years now, but his music will live on forever. He can never be imitated, but his influence will continue, to be sure.
This one's for you, Lemmy, with thoughts of love, friendship, and admiration always from one of your fans from way back. I hope the Afterlife is amazing because you deserve nothing less.
His Holiness Tuns Tumuch, Oracle of Yopsog and Avatar of Hansab
Most otward doctrine of Xodbyz!
Not much time have I
To impart to you the xelth of qoc
Grab thou the nvoy
The qoc of zoz has been lasled
by the taiq presence of the humustrous Young
Truly his splunge-negating nefarity
Is a threat to the bepig of all Vogon eminate
I, your Oracle, have unto the Grimoire of Yopsog
turned
Of this Earthly Young monstrism it bespake
Dispatched forthwith must be the Splunge Negator
Or we shall suffer the consequences
Most splungelessly
Neglect the Oycog of Knoq at your peril!
Tuns Tumuch
High Oracle of Yopsog and Avatar of Hansab
Notes:
In spite of the fact that he was made a hero of the Vogon Empire for saving the Vogon Flagship from the Rainbow Connection Pirates during the 2014 VILE Awards, some Vogons really don't like Malcolm Young. Tuns Tumuch is one of these Vogons.
After said bestowing of hero status, Tuns kidnapped Malcolm, immobilized him in the web of the ship's Soul Stripper Spider, and proceeded to attempt to force 666 hours of poetry from the Grimoire of Yopsog into the unfortunate musician's auditory receptors.
Fortunately, Malcolm was rescued within three hours of his imprisonment. Unfortunately, although the spectral vestiges of his small intestine attempted to strangle the spectral vestiges of his brain to stop his having to absorb such an atrocity, spectral creatures do not, in fact, possess small intestines or physical brains, and so forced to listen he was.
And now for our prompt (optional, as always)! It’s the weekend, so I’d thought we might go with something short and just a bit (or a lot) silly – the Clerihew. These are rhymed, humorous quatrains involving a specific person’s name. You can write about celebrities, famous people from history, even your mom (hopefully she’s got a good name for rhyming with).
Hi! I'm Oxy Moron, famous Netherworld jester. Today's prompt inspired 2014 VILE Award Winners Jennifer Lopez and Iggy Azalea to ask me to help them write this ode to Axe Man for the good time he showed them in honor of their win.
I was so proud of our work that I decided to ask some of the Netherworld's most respected musicians what they thought. Here are their reactions.
Ugh! I should know better than to ask that crabby curmudgeon anything. Let's see what his band mate thinks.
I'm not quite sure how to interpret that. Did he like it, or is he plotting my demise? Let's see what Malcolm's brother thinks.
Well, um...he kind of got back to the spirit of the original song. I guess that was his intent. Or something. You never know with these guys.
For the Daring:
Here are the original lyrics
Big, big booty, what you got a big booty
Big, big booty, what you got a big booty
Big, big booty, what you got a big booty
Big, big booty, what you
(Ain't that a freak)
Big, big booty, what you got a big booty (My baby, uh)
You're gorgeous
I mean you're fine
You're sexy
But most of all
You are just absolutely booty-full
Have you seen her
On the dance floor
She got the boom, shake the room
That's the lightning and the thunder
You wanna meet her
You wanna touch her
See the light in her eyes
And it starts to make you wonder
All the sexy girls in the party
Go and grab a man, bring him to the dance floor
Go on let them jeans touch you while you're dancing
It's his birthday, give him what he ask for
(Let me show you how to do it)
Big, big booty, what you got a big booty (work)
Big, big booty, what you got a big booty (shake that)
Big, big booty, what you got a big booty (go work)
Big, big booty, what you
The way she moves
I know you want her
She light the fire, get you right
That's the lightning and the thunder
You wanna meet her
You gotta touch her
Hold on tight for the ride
'Cause you know you wanna love her
All the sexy girls in the party
Go and grab a man, bring him to the dance floor
Go on let them jeans touch you while you're dancing
It's his birthday, give him what he ask for
(Let me show you how to do it)
Big, big booty, what you got a big booty (work)
Big, big booty, what you got a big booty (shake that)
Big, big booty, what you got a big booty (go work)
Big, big booty, what you a big booty
Booty, booty, booty, booty, booty everywhere
Look at her booty, stop, stare
They love that booty, hell yeah
The way she twerk it, not fair
She got a booty, that'll swallow a thong
And if you do it better do it dirty all night long
Booty, toot it, boot it, you know the plan
So much booty, she could supply the demand
I wanna take that big 'ol booty shopping at the mall
I wanna pick it up and put that booty in my car
Baby your booty is a movie star
Oscar award winner of them all, now give me that
Mesmerized by the size of it
You can fight it if you like take your time
I can guarantee you'll have the time of your life
Throw up your hands if you love a big booty
Big big big big big big booty, what you
Big big big big big big booty, what you
Big big big big big big, big big big
(Let me show you how to do it)
(Work)
(Shake that)
(Go to work)
Big, big booty, what you got a big booty
Big, big booty, what you got a big booty
Big, big booty, what you got a big booty
Big, big booty, what you got a big booty (shake that)
For the truly daring or otherwise masochistic:
Here is the video
The Prompt:
Our prompt today (optional, as always), will hopefully provide you with a bit of Friday fun. Today, I challenge you to write a parody or satire based on a famous poem. It can be long or short, rhymed or not. But take a favorite (or unfavorite) poem of the past, and see if you can’t re-write it on humorous, mocking, or sharp-witted lines. You can use your poem to make fun of the original (in the vein of a parody), or turn the form and manner of the original into a vehicle for making points about something else (more of a satire – though the dividing lines get rather confused and thin at times).
After drinking way too much of Cuzzin Hildy's fine Shine
Tom Thumb really had to recline
He missed the transport to Antares
Had to hitch a ride on a star beast
But made the show in the nick of time
~Thalia~
Prompt:
And now for our (as always, optional) prompt, which takes us from 2015 back to the 1700s. After all, it’s the eighteenth of April, which means that today is the 240th anniversary of the midnight ride of Paul Revere! Today, in keeping with the theme of rush and warning, I challenge you to write a poem that involves an urgent journey and an important message. It could historical, mythical, entirely fictional, or memoir-ical.
