23/07/2025
In Remembrance.
Ozzy Osbourne (1948–2025)
A Poem for tha Prince of Darkness
Tha bells toll low for a midnight child,
Born in Brum with a rebel wild,
From iron skies and smokestack breath,
He sang of war, of life, of death.
With Sabbath black and leathered cries,
He rose like thunder through grey skies,
A howl, a wail, electric fire,
A bat-winged priest, a soul on wire.
They called him madman, demon, freak,
But listen close his soul would speak.
Beneath tha bite, beneath tha stare,
A haunted heart was always there.
Through storms of fame and battles grim,
He bore tha shadows deep within,
Yet still he roared, still dared to scream,
A broken man with iron dream.
He gave us chaos, truth, and sound,
Where sinners wept and spirits drowned.
And now tha curtain falls so slow,
As metal mourns its midnight show.
So raise a glass, ye creatures odd,
Ye outcasts kissed by fate or God.
Tha bat has flown, tha Ozzman’s gone,
But madness lives, and love lives on.
Rest now, Ozzy.
Tha stage is dark, but your voice echoes eternal.
UK CCSR
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Written By Tha Elder, Silver Øaken Wølf On Tha 22/07/25
