Sign up to save your podcasts
Or
Share A Sudden Death Without Me.-Version 2-by- Matthew F. Blowers III
Share to email
Share to Facebook
Share to X
Share to email
Share to Facebook
Share to X
Or
A Sudden Death Without Me.-Version 2-by- Matthew F. Blowers III
I remember Jimbo,
his chrome ax glittering
in the heat of the spots,
throttling his head back at me,
as I twisted a Les Paul into tune.
He had this cheesy grin
buttering his face,
as he shouted,
"This is so unreal man!
Yeah, he was caught up
in the highs of the moment.
I barely heard him
over the massing crowd,
just past two tons of curtain
that hid us but I could feel
what he meant,
cause that night was sharp,
like a razor scraped across
the blackboard of eternity.
He died two hours after
the concert in a twisted,
no longer stainless steel ball,
of what used be his MG.
Half in, half out, as if he'd
suddenly changed his mind,
like I did when I pulled a
classic Buddy Holly,
by catching a ride
with the drummer,
telling Jimbo, "I'm beat man,
I'll see you at rehearsel."
They say his radio
was still playing,
the battery wiring juiced
when he took out a tree
broadside, and the song
blaring away was...
"I'm On The Highway to Hell"
by AC/DC.
They also added that his face
was pulled back in a
grimace as if he
was already there.
Sometimes I think I died
with him that night,
and the rest is just make believe,
some kinda hellish dream
Until reality kicks in,
leaving me warming
barstools and chasing
cold brews with shots
of Black Velvet.
Much like he saw with
His final gaze and breath
View all episodes
By Art~Whimsically YoursI remember Jimbo,
his chrome ax glittering
in the heat of the spots,
throttling his head back at me,
as I twisted a Les Paul into tune.
He had this cheesy grin
buttering his face,
as he shouted,
"This is so unreal man!
Yeah, he was caught up
in the highs of the moment.
I barely heard him
over the massing crowd,
just past two tons of curtain
that hid us but I could feel
what he meant,
cause that night was sharp,
like a razor scraped across
the blackboard of eternity.
He died two hours after
the concert in a twisted,
no longer stainless steel ball,
of what used be his MG.
Half in, half out, as if he'd
suddenly changed his mind,
like I did when I pulled a
classic Buddy Holly,
by catching a ride
with the drummer,
telling Jimbo, "I'm beat man,
I'll see you at rehearsel."
They say his radio
was still playing,
the battery wiring juiced
when he took out a tree
broadside, and the song
blaring away was...
"I'm On The Highway to Hell"
by AC/DC.
They also added that his face
was pulled back in a
grimace as if he
was already there.
Sometimes I think I died
with him that night,
and the rest is just make believe,
some kinda hellish dream
Until reality kicks in,
leaving me warming
barstools and chasing
cold brews with shots
of Black Velvet.
Much like he saw with
His final gaze and breath