He wanted to join Johnny--
first it was marijuana..then pills..
then soon the needle
got under his skin..
Blame it on Mom..
Blame it on fashion..
or albeit--really dumb..
blame it on heroin..
When he was a child of ten..
he knew never again..
would he see life..
the same way he saw it then..
He wanted more than to be like
all the other boys..
Rock and Roll stole his soul..
A crime of passionate seduction
and destruction..
A creator a destroyer..
it's all one in the same..
Put in a bottle stored on the top shelf..
Like a genie that needs your love to get out
with a little help..
Sure the Beatles were cool--
But what really knocked his socks off
were "The New York Dolls" strutting about..
Glam sleaze..like a sick little strip tease
on a lonely night out with the boys..
When it gets so hard to see the forest hills
through the streets of Queens..
Oh Johnny..where oh where did you go?
Now that we need you the most..are you really
just a ghost?..
A sick little memory that often times makes me smile..
Your TV yellow Les Paul jr..
All that teased black hair..
you were like Keith Richards only more real..
if unfairly compared then so be it..
Why is it we miss you so my dear?
You're gone now, but still so many of us sing your songs..
Haunted lullabies from a little Italian kid..
It's really me writing to you from the other side..
I wish you all the happiness that I could never find..
I'm still with you in spirit..
every time you think of me I come alive..
You can't put your arm around a memory..
But, it's nice to know you still think of me sometimes..
~~the end
By Rick Weber
February 7, 2014
copy rights reserved 2014
1700hrs
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
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