Brian Wilson's Smile
Brian Wilson smiled,
Hearing impaired, as a boy
He created tunes in joy,
Just a kid beguiled
By a Gershwin rhapsody,
On piano playing free.
Dennis, tanned and fit
Was the sibling who impressed,
Surfing on another crest
Of a wave, he lit
Breakers at the Beach Boys’ birth
On the Californian surf.
Three brothers inclined,
Singing gorgeous harmonies
Managing to calm and ease
Brian’s troubled mind,
When a father rages hard
Oldest sons can end up scarred.
Still he ruled the charts,
Singles aimed at number one,
Help Me Rhonda, Fun, Fun, Fun;
Love and broken hearts,
Lonely sunsets, cars and risks
For the fans who bought the discs.
In the studio
Brian soared, produced the band
But his old man couldn’t stand
That and had to show
Weaknesses, from work and fame
Soon a nervous breakdown came.
No longer on stage,
Now he used the time to write
Pop music beyond the light
Standard of the age;
Placing surfboards out of reach,
Silencing the hot rod’s screech.
Pet Sounds shot out sparks,
Signals of the great unknown
And the coming album’s tone,
Hired Van Dyke Parks,
Poet with the pen of seers,
Different words and new ideas.
Something of a shock
As those Beach Boy voices sang
Of the Iron Horse’s clang,
Finding Plymouth Rock,
How the heroes made the quest
And the villains won the West.
Elements, the suite,
Earth, the air and fire’s roar,
Water too but Brian’s score
Some opposed and beat;
They could not accept or see
Genius on LSD.
Brian Wilson’s Smile
Masterpiece he locked away,
Never saw the light of day,
Tapes sent to exile,
In old tins they gathered dust,
Gold beneath decaying rust.
It’s a loving cup,
In my room I listen to
Cabin Essence and the blue
Brilliance of Surf’s Up,
He wrote songs for Smile like those,
How he did, God only knows.
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