A Poem, Keith Moon!

Keith Moon!
Roll, Roll, Roll, Kick, Hit, Hit, Hit,
And the H filled hip cat bouncing on a stool cracks
With the kick of a horse.

Thu Dump Thu Dump pa Donka Donk
Ride Ride Ride and then Ride Ride Ride
Kieth!
Kick it for me again and again,

But,

be quick young man…

be quick…

be quick…

The beast with the H crest chest is coming quick,
And he cares not for the starry eyed stares or scarred scared stars,
And their smooth as silk songs and siren screams.

Help! Help! Help! Help John Help!
I’m leaving too soon!
I’m leaving and I’m not finished…

The Drum beats are faster now
still faster,
And the control of the skeleton is clunking.
Clunking.
Clunk, clunk, clunk.

John save him please!
He cannot pass it to you!
The stick switch swap to smoothly snapping fingers is ending.

Oh… Oh… Oh… Sad, sad, sad,
Sad all those who are chased.

And it is not to be.
The H crest chest beast cannot be beat,
And talent inspiring to all who rattle sticks and kick cows’ hides
Lies on a tile floor near a toilet,
And the coda finishes with a flourish, the siren screams,
And the maestro is missing.