Burning Slowly

A random tale of a random poet living a random life. (Many of the pictures are mine but my apologies to the owners of the ones that I have blatantly ripped off. If you are really unhappy about me using your images, email me and I will remove them. If not, thanks for the loan. Outcast Poet)

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Location: Oxford, United Kingdom

I write real poems, and play real music.

Wednesday, April 08, 2009

For Keef


This is getting to be a once a year blog! How slack is that? The reason for this latest posting is that I received a comment on the last one from someone, someone I don’t know, who actually liked my writing! ‘Write some more’ he said – and so here I am, at it again. It is impossible to catch up on all that has happened since the last posting, impossible and probably very boring. The band ‘oveRRated’ is going really well and we have done some great gigs. Apart from Special oveRRated has become the most important thing I do. I love that whole creative process of writing the lyrics and the music, then working on the arrangements. The finished product, when it works, is like the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. I don’t mean that in monetary terms as we haven’t actually made any money out of any of out songs! We have been paid for a few gigs but I don’t think I should give up my day job – as much as I would love to!!!

I was working on the boat the other weekend, doing a bit of rubbing down and painting, when I got a text from Keef’s sister who I have never met: “I think you were a friend of Keefs” it said in part. I went cold. I knew it was bad news and it took me a couple of hours to get the courage to call her back. It was bad news. Keef had gone. End of Jan in a hospital near Chipping Norton. His body just gave out on him. His lifestyle had caught up. I have lost a very good, trusted friend, and the world has lost a very kind and generous man. Bless you Keef, you take it easy now man. Do you remember telling me that you wouldn’t make old bones? Do you remember that conversation we had that winter’s day cruising up the Oxford to Heyford? You’re a long time dead! That’s what we talked about; long time dead. I will miss you my friend.