It’s not your art that causes me to pry
Into your private, spiritual state:
To sing about the Devil’s a far cry
From sealing one’s own, or any other’s, fate.
Except at Altamont (when Sam engaged
Naively those Hell’s Angel bodyguards,
Who killed a man, uprooted “flowers”, and raged
Against “these faggy, mock-satanic bards”),
By acting out on stage our own dark side –
The fact of whose existence many fight
Or else attempt from other souls to hide –
You have but helped to keep us in the light.
I’m pleased to greet you; glad you are a Sir.
How puzzling the details of your jigsaw were!
Sympathy for Sir MicK
by Michael Peach




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