Another stunning piece by our resident writer ERIC LASTICK
In the wicked know-ed of claws and carriers…dance along ‘ ROCKER’ of rocking chair nightmare. Awake of a dream to the vocals of ”The Oz”. Seethe of stormy castle haunts—as there is this calling of Sabbath streaming & dreaming…as if an Edger Alan Poe endeavor to the black. A disbursement of a flicker…and then light—while bats and rats bounce off one another…in and out of haunted house. The diminished notes, rhythms of the unkind, yet most necessary. The ending of a beating heart! Next, in drum roll, a terror…screams…sways of energetic white electric sparks in theater—-too the grows of nigh-times… images! Enigmatic dismemberment of mind—as claws coming our way…& on attack. Menace ghosts reach the stage of sounds. All mingle as one. There is no escape, but to remain in the very jams of ”Paranoid’ War pig juncture often a linger to the ‘head’ of who’s abused…as right out of the Mekong Delta and ho chi mien trail become amplified…and as if forever! Vietnamese see-through figures…and of these lessons and their drops back on all of thee. Beyond death, the ghost cloth refugees. Their boats gather in a sense— through the surrealist’s of Texas fisheries.Galveston bridges & it’s large scale fishes ever larger than life. Set and placed in this haunted castle of burnt bridges; as Ozzy sings it to death! This bitten bat of all know-eds. Horrible reproach of the ”payback night”. The UN-lackey and all of the drunk’ past bedtime. Mad Englishman in Paranoid state. Yet still, the buzzards continue to rave and carry further of the baddest of trips and falls. Black Sabbath played on. The people remain standing room as if a dance hall with ghostly calls. Trip outs…gang of thieves taken’ of the sane mind! The deception of the blue demon. The article leers as the strands of magical nightfall. The fare and wily can know longer move…as it takes a heavy swordsman, a knight just strong enough to bypass all the fires of this menacingly surrealistic place. Ozzy see’s of the Castle—pasted dark humor and olde Ale salutes—as Vietnamese scatter of light and robed ghost fed fedora, the hatted mads and glass house of payback.
Call it a dream. A nightmare…and free to drop-kick past the mindset one chooses to ensue. Better letter a four way street-er…and any avenue out!
An abroubt jolt… Castle’s doors spreader now, wide opened. Sent are the gifts of a universal kind. Yet for only a minute or so. ”Better run”. Haven’t a count but one will be sorely missed if unable to escape. Even so, as to take this story as far as the graveyard folly. Ozzy beckon call: ”May there be one believer to this misfit and mayhem.” But what a night…and what a rollicking concert show by Black Sabbath! ”See you soon, Oz. All may wonder though, how you jumped through hoops on the 11th day…11th hour. Darken knights, early morning light. Another day, but those night times, nightmares prevailing.
A SECOND NIGHT’S ACT…WAR PIGS RESPONSE…
Ozzie’s monster billed event…swinger laden woman of ‘all’ covens. Black cloths…little satin laced young daughter darker; dances the rhythms of 0zzie’s smash hits. Shared as cat-like of their combined make-up and made-ups too the howls of the moon. The rain. Yet really all in fun. Tricks of the mind and treats for the youngish spirited, this coming Halloween of the October’s. Sabbath band mates and circle jerks honor the convenience of just plain fun…as uptight and not so bright security ”Buckman” & police Sally, bulge of an eye and pointed ears—as such are the pins on the favorite Donkeys. Although, these are the very party and privy of political hate…and the purveyors of nearly every drawn wars.
WAR PIGS ON THE LOOSE
Politician man clouds in all the raves and hand gestures…it’s very signs of evil, although he, ticketed at center stage with son…and his own ignorance of political framing—while fire claws and anguish proceed him. Now his own begotten son—rush the stage. Fuels of the inner fires. The injustices and sore sport. Fowl play. The guard and rule—-order the boy out. Rid of the mayhem; as next, the politician tight in the crowd, skids his blemishes and tarnished scuffs. His three piece suit at days done. The audience of aisles and arena, trampled in a frenzied full of Ozzie headsets. Blood donate and stumble on the nick knack’s of remains of Sabbath bloody SABBATH—along with shreds of meister brew leggings…foreign blend of a stately man—who frantically tried to leave this auditorium! War Pigs reprise and on the loose… & so innate driven in the corner of a silent majority eye. Greed a happen-place… & on the back-full. Digs of one’s own eventual covered & sad three cornered rap of the military flag.
Roadshow need not know of a lackey. Ozzie has a class bus cross tour, which continues to go—ever so right-sided…backwards tilts the bus but never upside down. Could be considered a booze bin at celebratory times, yet could never compete with the horrors of the politician and their attempts of proving our young of the wrongs of Rock ‘n’ Roll. Mister Oz has righted our own answers of the likes of those who keep the name of war…and the real Pigs that embrace it.
