The Greatest Gig Of All
This month's poem was chosen by Attila the Stockbroker who says of it,
" I wanted that ideal combination - a poem which works on the page and which I can also imagine cheering after five pints! Andy’s poem spoke to me, personally. I knew Peelie, the sessions and record airplay he gave me were the fulfilment of a dream and, as Andy says, along with so many others, I owe him so much. I know it’s a predictable choice, and I almost wanted to find another poem which trumped it for me, but it hit the spot, utterly subjectively, so there you are. I’d like to give honourable mentions to ‘Lost’ by Stuart A. Patterson and ‘Elegy for Mac McAndrews’ by Tracey Curran - if anyone else had been judging this month, one or the other of you may have won......And yes, I read every showcase entry. Respect to one and all."
Find out more about Andy and his work at http://www.writeoutloud.net/poets/andyhumphrey
The Greatest Gig Of All
(for John Peel, RIP)
John was never much of one for angels.
I suspect he favoured sinners over saints.
So when they came to meet him on a bright October day,
I wonder if he met them with complaints?
I wonder if they caught him reminiscing
Over Bowie, Joy Division or The Fall,
And if the choir eternal brought their Stratocasters down
When they fetched him for the greatest gig of all?
Was St. Peter rather puzzled when the pearly gates swung wide
And the sound of Teenage Kicks began to play?
I bet he put aside his harp and started moshing with the rest
When the Lord called back his number one DJ.
Now I think we’re in for one almighty party,
Now that Peel is rocking in the sky.
The music just got better in the heavens up above,
And music isn’t ever going to die.
I don’t think John thought overmuch of heaven,
But he counted all his blessings while on earth,
Though adrift for forty years in a desert
Of plastic pop and DJ poodle perms.
They may not honour prophets in their hometown,
But Heswall never had a finer son,
And many poets’ voices owe their honour and acclaim
To a timely session tape on Radio 1.
He must have served his Purgatory a few too many times,
A lone voice in the wilderness of bland,
But there’ll be a few home truths for sure when Peely meets the saints,
When they face the music and strike up the band.
Yes I think we’re in for one almighty party,
Now that Peel is rocking in the sky.
The music just got better in the heavens up above,
And music isn’t ever going to die.
So I wonder how he’s going to cope with heaven,
When he didn’t even know if it was there?
I can see him swapping records with Bob Marley and Ray Charles,
Giving Sid and Strummer time on heavenly air.
He’ll be working on the decks with Biggie and Jam Master Jay,
Keeping Tupac off at arm’s length just in case,
Teaching Jimi how to fly and chasing John across the sky,
Reuniting the Ramones for old times’ sake.
There’ll be one enormous session in the firmament tonight,
With Caedmon and Charles Wesley in the mix,
With the angels backing Elvis, and two Beatles on guitar,
And the stars will all ring out with Teenage Kicks.
Yes I know we’re in for one almight party,
And Peel will go on rocking high above.
The music just got better in the heavens, and they say
That if music never dies, then nor does love.
" I wanted that ideal combination - a poem which works on the page and which I can also imagine cheering after five pints! Andy’s poem spoke to me, personally. I knew Peelie, the sessions and record airplay he gave me were the fulfilment of a dream and, as Andy says, along with so many others, I owe him so much. I know it’s a predictable choice, and I almost wanted to find another poem which trumped it for me, but it hit the spot, utterly subjectively, so there you are. I’d like to give honourable mentions to ‘Lost’ by Stuart A. Patterson and ‘Elegy for Mac McAndrews’ by Tracey Curran - if anyone else had been judging this month, one or the other of you may have won......And yes, I read every showcase entry. Respect to one and all."
Find out more about Andy and his work at http://www.writeoutloud.net/poets/andyhumphrey
The Greatest Gig Of All
(for John Peel, RIP)
John was never much of one for angels.
I suspect he favoured sinners over saints.
So when they came to meet him on a bright October day,
I wonder if he met them with complaints?
I wonder if they caught him reminiscing
Over Bowie, Joy Division or The Fall,
And if the choir eternal brought their Stratocasters down
When they fetched him for the greatest gig of all?
Was St. Peter rather puzzled when the pearly gates swung wide
And the sound of Teenage Kicks began to play?
I bet he put aside his harp and started moshing with the rest
When the Lord called back his number one DJ.
Now I think we’re in for one almighty party,
Now that Peel is rocking in the sky.
The music just got better in the heavens up above,
And music isn’t ever going to die.
I don’t think John thought overmuch of heaven,
But he counted all his blessings while on earth,
Though adrift for forty years in a desert
Of plastic pop and DJ poodle perms.
They may not honour prophets in their hometown,
But Heswall never had a finer son,
And many poets’ voices owe their honour and acclaim
To a timely session tape on Radio 1.
He must have served his Purgatory a few too many times,
A lone voice in the wilderness of bland,
But there’ll be a few home truths for sure when Peely meets the saints,
When they face the music and strike up the band.
Yes I think we’re in for one almighty party,
Now that Peel is rocking in the sky.
The music just got better in the heavens up above,
And music isn’t ever going to die.
So I wonder how he’s going to cope with heaven,
When he didn’t even know if it was there?
I can see him swapping records with Bob Marley and Ray Charles,
Giving Sid and Strummer time on heavenly air.
He’ll be working on the decks with Biggie and Jam Master Jay,
Keeping Tupac off at arm’s length just in case,
Teaching Jimi how to fly and chasing John across the sky,
Reuniting the Ramones for old times’ sake.
There’ll be one enormous session in the firmament tonight,
With Caedmon and Charles Wesley in the mix,
With the angels backing Elvis, and two Beatles on guitar,
And the stars will all ring out with Teenage Kicks.
Yes I know we’re in for one almight party,
And Peel will go on rocking high above.
The music just got better in the heavens, and they say
That if music never dies, then nor does love.
<Deleted User> (6510)
Mon 14th Sep 2009 19:26
There was only one and there will only ever be one John Peel - as unique as the talent let loose. I am a bit gutted I didn't hear him recite 'Twat' by John Clarke, I bet it was sweet.
'Like a nightclub in the morning your the bitter end, Like a recently disinfected shithouse your clean round the bend' - It must of been dynamite, then Teenage Kicks comes in straight after,,,, The End.