The Fan Who Fell To Earth

(to the tune of The Man Who Sold The World)

A solitary star
up in the sky turns black
and something special’s gone
that never can come back.
A constant is no more.
Hearts sink that used to soar
and sadly it’s a fact –
not braced for the impact…

Crawl from the crash
with wounded wings unfurled,
take shaking steps
in a strange post-Bowie world.

Wake to a world that’s wrong,
and mourn for mismatched eyes,
brain full of fractured song,
soul screaming to the skies –
a scream of disbelief,
a desert born of grief,
and, choking on the dust,
drink tears, because you must…

Like it or not
somehow the time drags on
and so begins
post-Bowie world, day one.

BC, AD
are meaningless to me.
The years to come
will be dated post-Bowie.

Easter, Already?

It can’t be Easter already,
New Year’s barely out of the way –
but look – green shoots in my garden!
Must be spring – or else, climate change?

At least my hard work has paid off –
planting bulbs nearly finished me!
Can’t think which ones I planted where –
next week, I’ll be able to see…

And it’s not just in the garden –
on the shelves in my local shop
chocolate eggs are on display,
chocolate bunnies begin to hop.

Who buys for Easter this early?
The eggs could be addled by Lent.
The bunnies will taste quite funny,
their poor ears all broken and bent.

Old hot cross buns become tepid,
stale chocolate, spotted with white.
A symptom, like global warming,
of 21st century life.