Lemmy? Lemmy. Yes. No.

The only poetry is that Lemmy graced our presence at all.
Loudly, proudly, and if you didn’t like it… tough.
It’s all I’m gonna say about that. If you think I’m shirking a writer’s duty, so be it. It doesn’t matter how many friends or enemies either of us wins or loses. Life is what you make it? No. Life is what is made. Beyond that, the decision is what to do with it. I’m not gonna argue with those who analyze or categorize or try to put music into some predetermined box of popularity.

This may be the worst thing I’ve ever written but I’ll defend it against those who ask, “Who the hell is that? Never heard of him.” It doesn’t pay to write or read too much into anything. I’ve never been a fan of Jack Daniel’s but I like my whiskey, whatever the choice of the day may happen to be. Dig?

lemmy bass

Lemmy lived.
Lemmy lives.
I’ve raised my glass.
It was never empty.

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