Maharaja Blues

He stood in the corner of Harry’s Office. He said nothing. You could feel his presence, it was sinister. His shadow was cast across all of Harry’s work. Harry looked up from his desk and glanced across the room. He saw a figure in the shadows. "What do you want?" The figure said nothing. Harry swallowed and slowly moved towards the figure. He could make out the silhouette of a man. 6’6 with a heavy trench coat and a sharp hat. A noise outside, a distraction, a chance. Harry threw a punch. Von Hatstand rocked backwards and then struck. CRACK! Harry’s eyes rolled as Von Hatstands head butt impacted. Harry fell to the ground. Harry could hear the birds pecking at his skull. He opened his eyes slowly. He was covered by a grey trench coat, And in the corner of the room stood a hat stand. By Maharaja Rich (a long long time ago) Part 2 https://maharajablues.blogspot.com/2025/08/the-case-of-missing-maharaja.html?m=1 Full story index blog-story-category-index

The Slow Worm & The Glow Worm In a pub called The Burrow & Bug, A slow worm slid in with a shrug. He ordered some moss, Sat down like a boss, And gave his old tail a tug. A glow worm lit up near the bar, Her shimmer outshone every star. She snubbed the poor bloke, With a flicker and smoke— “Too slow,” she said, “won’t get far.” But the slow worm, determined to disprove, Started to slither and move. To the rhythm of roots, And muddy old boots, He danced to a sexy groove. His belly beat hummed like a drum, His tail tapped a beetle’s bum. The glow worm blinked twice, Then thrice (how nice!), And said, “Well, you’re not quite so dumb.” Now they’re pals in the moonlight’s gleam, A duo, a dazzling dream. One flashes with flair, One slides with care, Together they’re quite the team. They’re out on the town, seeking guys & gals, In hedgerow haunts and leafy dals. With slither and flight, And bioluminescent delight They’re the kings of the wormy canals. All this now needs is a  ...

Woke up this morning, Feelin for my shoes, Aching to the bone, Got those gardening blues.  Woke up this morning, feelin round for my shoes,  The reason is because I,  got those old, gardenin blues. Adaptation of Ramblin by Johnny Shines ( friend of Robert Johnson) https://open.spotify.com/track/6OszZ52oPNc7zNhNyy5oRA?si=mNnd06ObSVyetcT8RDXw0A Planting... Nurturing... Full story index blog-story-category-index

Over in Japan there is an anime musical artist called Hatsune Miku.  We just want to make clear that our Miku bares absolutely no resemblance to her whatsoever. Miku's response With Glorious blue hair  unlike our messy bear Another Miku in Japan No ordinary bass man The pride of all Hatsune Ruled the world of anime  But her bass  Alas Was a mess Bless So for now Miku the Bard is safe and not barred Bad he may be But we can all see A real comic, not anime  Maharaja Miku, not that Hatsune Full story index blog-story-category-index

Someone recently asked me about Chaucer , the Canterbury Tales, the famous illustration below and the missing 25th tale from 1400. Has it got anything to do with us I was asked? Now that would be a tale to tell now wouldn't it. Miku's thoughts Verily, good Richard, thou art a right noble cock,   Thy crow doth pierce the morn as smiteth flint on rock.   Thy feathers glisten as the noonday sunne doth blaze,   A cock of courtly manner and most gallant ways.   Yet lo! Thy dobro, gleaming like the stars above,   Plays sweeter notes than Philomel's sad song of love.   If I were bard of olde with quill in hand ysped,   Thy plumage and thine strings alike would both be wed—   In verse so bold, it echoeth down the hall   Of time, where cocks and dobroes reigneth over all. The Tee Shirt From Maharaja Rich "I wasn't planning on doing this pic as a tee shirt. Who would want it? Oh Miku of course. And my daught...

A Question for Old Tolkien I need a time machine, you see Not for conquest, nor for fame,   But to knock on the door of Oxford’s lore   And call out Tolkien’s name. “Professor!” I’d say, with a courteous bow,   “Your realms are rich, your maps profound,   But I’ve a question that’s troubled me now—   And it’s nowhere in your Silmarillion bound. Where are the Orc women, sir?   Who bore the brutes of Mordor’s might?   Did Morgoth play midwife in the dark,   Or did shadow spawn them in the night? You gave us Elven queens and mortal maids,   Shieldmaidens fierce and Entwives lost—   But not a whisper, not a shade   Of Orcish wombs, nor birthing cost. Were they bred in vats, like twisted clay?   Or cursed from men, as some have said?   Did they sing lullabies in Uruk tongue   To babes with eyes of burning red? Did Sauron host a nursery wing   I...

  The QR code points to:  https://qrco.de/bg9sTy Venue  The Castle, Aldgate East, E1 1LN. 3 min walk from Aldgate East tube station. Aldgate East is 6 mins on Hammersmith & City line from Liverpool St,  4 mins from Monument station on the District Line. Schedule  Pub opens at 4pm Doors open 7.15pm. (Upstairs) 8.00pm Welcome by MC Ashley Tragic 8.10pm Spiral Arm Galaxy 9.00pm Interval 9.25pm Ashley Tragic with Maharaja Blues 9.30pm Maharaja Blues Tickets site   https://www.tickettailor.com/events/maharajabluesband/1806521 Tee shirts Maharaja Blues Tee shirts We did go to the venue to check it out first... Our cat did a dry run too. Who are Maharaja Blues? about-maharaja-blues Video Post gig blogs Journey to the gig and photo selection the-chronicle-of-ashley-tragic chronicle-of-spiral-arm-galaxy chronicle-maharaja-blues-in-aldgate   Full story index blog-story-category-index

Miku the Barred Bad Bear Bard Miku the Bear, with a bass on his back, Wandered the woods on a musical track. He claimed he could sing, he claimed he could play— But squirrels fled fast when he started to bray. His verses were tangled, his rhythms askew, He rhymed ‘’strangled” with “barbecue stew.” He’d strum with a paw, then hiccup a beat, While bees buzzed in protest and danced at his feet. He wore a grand cloak made of marmalade jam, Declared it was “bardic” (though sticky as spam). His ballads were bold, his choruses loud— Yet none could be heard by a sensible crowd. Still, Miku would boast with a grin ear to ear: “I’m the finest bard from the mountains to here!” And though his tunes made the forest despair, They all still adored  that ridiculous bear! Full story index blog-story-category-index

Under Devauden’s Stars In Devauden we came to play,   On a chilly summer’s day.   The rain it played hide and seek  with the clouds,   While in the yurt,  we played music loud.   A stage within the House of Roots,   A Mongolian yurt—a festival’s heart.   Amidst the stars, we let our blues soar,   Maharajas grew from three to four.   The air alive with rhythm and sound,   Amongst great talent, we stood our ground.   Yet humbled we felt, embraced in grace,   By Nature Humble, Kate’s enchanting space.   A gathering rich in harmony’s spark,   The House of Roots, an ark of art.   So fortunate were we this day,   Amongst Devauden’s stars,  we found our way. Full story index blog-story-category-index

  Richard the Red Rooster There’s a rooster named Richie Red, Too lazy to crow from his bed. But dobro in hand, He dazzles the band— With vocals that turn every head. Satinder the Red Tiger Satinder the red kitty roars bright, His tabla unleashes rhythmic might. With paws drumming fire, He never tires His beats hold the blues just right. Jon the Wily Red Fox A fox with a harmonica spell, Makes sorrow and joy gel. He bends every note, With soul in his throat— And stories in his heart, he’s swell. Miku the Red Bear Miku, the bear, to this gig is brand new, My Hofner bass thuds right through. With paws thick and bold, I groove pure gold— Driving this red hot retinue. The Cool Crowd You guys and gals in sun-sizzled style, Each sweat-beaded grin alight with a smile. With hips in a sway, You grooved through the hot day— Hot hearts in true fest style. The Stage The Clock Tower blazed like a pyre, Each speaker a furnace of fire. Us nerds red and bold, Let our rhythms unfold— And the set ne...

 Maharaja Rich had some great noodles today. They were so good they warped reality itself. Reaction of Miku the Bard. There once was Maharaja Rich, His muse was a doodling glitch. He’d slurp up some noodles, While dodging his poodles— And dream of a pet ostrich! Now Rich looked like Macca, His thoughts went clacka-clacka. He’d argue with clocks, And serenade rocks, While sipping on steam from a snacka. The Maharaja of Quantum Noodles By Miku the Bard of Maharaja Blues  In the copper-lit cabin of The Oodles Express, Maharaja Rich adjusted his velvet waistcoat, monocle gleaming like a polished gear. His quantum dobro hummed with string-theory harmonics as he serenaded collies—each wearing bowler hats and tapping their paws to rhythms only tachyons could hear. Across the deck, time-traveling llamas debated noodle entanglement, their hooves scribbling equations in midair. One llama, named Professor Spaghetti, insisted that soba could bend spacetime if slurped with suf...

When you get a round of drinks for your band. And you remember one of the guys doesn't drink. Miku the Bard Tiger, tiger burning bright With a jug of beer you'd never sight, Perhaps that's behind his might, Keeping his roar a noble right. He roars aloud in the night, His cup of tea gives many a fright, Yet, with beer, you'd never sight, Our tiger burning bright. Full story index blog-story-category-index