ANOTHER ROCKING PIECE FROM OUR RESIDENT SURREALIST WRITER, ERIC LASTICK
Sidney and company…Big Pink in full wardrobe…Brits warmth and ”Meddle”. Fur-top coat, Water’s Floyd’s and Barrett’s —along with Mason’s ”stick man’s truths…and honors. Gilmore not quite there yet. Cause and effect: Wild–zip, crazy eyes of lot’s of ‘Diamonds!” And at center court, controller of the serving risers…and Saucer fulls abound! Rick Wright has a magic to his keys. A wealth of bringing it…seeing through the ever forces of ”Pink Floyd” Soar and flares, as if on a whole wave of psychedelia…light show’s of the abandoned of letting it all hang-out. Brash and old of it’s spectaculars… view as if heaven’s gates. Waste heads and jugs, arrive at ”The Ball Room” San Francisco style…as all of the Floyd’s appear. House goes crazy with it’s dazzling light effects…& grandiose colors. Riveting playing…as next, we know of a phone call. A cancellation probably of an absentee of work—straight out too the ‘nut’ block…crazy halls of straight-jacked extremes, to the Acid wealthy, yet now much too clumsy; and extremely out-measured…outlawed. The Pink and Floyd’s of the matter equate to judge not this day in a ‘Acid Vat’…and fool on the outskirts of sanity. Sid spin the tables…revelry terror tremor blues. Sit and rest a spell young lunatic—out too the lunches in which bind and hold. A one hospital bed…lights off of the Pink’s…and of the shows! A real replacement is inevitable…as Gilmore fine tunes his guitars…jams and ancient sights of ruins.Sid’s front and center, falls as if a ‘back flip’ in the forever’s. Dark ages…but a new Floyd dawn. Dainty women see it as nurses and cooking the hot meals towards a new day…although, for Sid, one can never place him of proper sanity ever again…as a wage of good humor and good cause; and ”Emily Play” Too the cruelest of ”The Arnold Lanes!” Now gone…and out of fast fashion. Good Orbs…and bright spirited days. Sings of the darker sides of the moon…Cracking and gone is the lunatic on the grass. Welcome to the machine is now a better, bitter, memory of past events. Talents…and how they end up. ”Sleep well dear Sid…and rest in peace…The Pink Centers, a Floyd build and retreat. A band to never forget.
LED ZEPP AND BRIXIT AUSTERITY BASKETS IN IT’S PROCLIVITY …TAKE OF A VAGABOND POET…AND BACK ALLEY LIFTS…AND LITTLE ‘GEMS’
On Page, Led Zeppelin owes to the poet. Plant whisks like an alley cat on rolls…charmed of a lyrical street sloth styled crew. Fedora drawn down…flip flop house nights and writes of fine paragraphs. Holy be of a shoelace fall…knotted go the day…falls of streams of puddles through & through the alleyways …as Led Zeppelin crash and fire; it’s very ‘saws’ to the seeing eyes of the Vagabond poet. Plant finds himself a warm spot by the London Truffles and Bakery rines left behinds…though a gem of an old soul who is rested on the step ways past the unfriendly of ”The Bowery Boy…Teddy Boy oft-tracks…and harms of minds and dirty breaks and bridges” The poet bum reads all…these escapes; but lie in the miseries of the London back corner rows. Hand me frowns…but boy oh boy’ can he write! Plant reads and he sings a whole album long. This poet’s gift to him. The pages turn like a guitar riff on a hot tin plate, now Plant’s own…and as if a brand new era in the 21st century…& a near throw of a quarter through…John Paul Jones— who can be heard from a third floor piano store showroom, just above. Old Jimmy cannot wither away, but make the next wave of music to the poet’s musings…studies off charts…yet quite uniquely sewn. Book of Castles…Ghost-like fears of the polter say.You can often hear them…and how Plant,Page…and Jones, now arrive a the same spot…and same time of day. The poet sits and passes the paper of medieval fare. So dark and so excellent in the presumes and combines of now…and of it’s ancients…Seamless uncertain of the early Gnostic knotted stays…liters of the reads and broken shields, swords…and hides in the alley dump spots…Next ed a tally of money thieves on a mountain top…riches in the Surrey sides of havens. This Castle brow rises as he fights of Kings and court dancers center a fleeced gown…gone down junk en! The hair jack battles…and the bold and old world bring as one. Polar poke never lies, never stops. John Bonham drum kit and double bass, playin the mid confessions of night. Now, the band is complete…the poet owns….so on——-with the band!
LED ZEPP BUYS OF THE FLOYDS
Darker sides of the moon. A Roger Waters theme and a Robert PLANT’S dream. Amount the hunger, the food lines…autographed signed. Heavens bend to the stairs. Earth off of it’s glad heart-ed spin, yet befall, the MOON’S MOODS; as we, and they, twist and fail. Now have hold, these darker sides of our moon. ”And what of it’s inhabitants?” Breathe through this space-bodies’ lung receptors, as of dreams. Localities? Right here, Plant as Robert…Thos— sends of joy. In song and self containing, but for all to know of this music’s derives…and the sleepy Floyds…it’s jazzin’ blues…folks in thru the avenue—bring upon much of the spacing and arrange of knowledge; in this timeless & hopelessness of an attempt to draw a good patterned life. Full, but one’ will need of investigations. Investments in new discoveries about oneself…and all others. Arena Rock in the grasps and holds—– that this Plant takes to the dizzying moment of peace and structures…the righted rounds. The olde city Londoner meal ticket of destined home…as Waters write of passages…universal to the lettering of ”OZ” So may we all spare that lunatic on the grass…and of his slips and slides. The acid run and bail—way to short of a time and place. Led Zepp, mister to be Paged! Keepith of ”The Swans’ All the unsettles of the triangle…darker sides to settle and balance—which he knew, and know to enjoy. John PAUL’S SYNTHESIZER with the key chords of the late Richard Wright…both of fluency and decor— & too the likes and measures of Gilmore’s ‘wonder bares techniques on a spark…and of a dream. Yet unknowns of the spectator of the importance of the mystery too the other ends of song…& of the moon! Moon holds of ”Chicken meats on a bone. The cook of the potato…and orange peel. Good label brandy…and dress fit the salad; and the icing on the cake—— make way home. Rogers masterwork, revered and celebrated. Annualized in all of it’s early adulthood precocious wisdom’s; as that very Waters theme…of Plant’s dream—-on the dark side of the moon.