Today, I Mourn slain Beatle John Lennon

Today, I Mourn slain Beatle John Lennon assassinated at 10:50 PM, on December 8, 1980 forty four years later to date outside The Dakota Apartment, (also known as the Dakota Apartments), located at 1 West 72nd Street in New York City, U.S. After Mark David Chapman unloaded five bullets in the back with a .38 special revolver, that son of a gun got his quarryman and became eligible for parole in 2000 after serving only 20 years since said murderer felled legend: he pulled the trigger of his firearm at point blank range brutally killing the most successful singer/songwriter in history, (whose collaboration with Paul McCartney) bestowed double fantasy and rendered instant karma echoing his oft repeated refrain across the universe for the benefit of Mister Kite "All we are saying is give peace a chance," a lyric from the song "Give Peace a Chance" by the late John Lennon and Yoko Ono, which song when released in 1969 became an anthem for the anti-war movement, nevertheless even after exactly three score years since the Fab Four, became famous in 1964 after their appearance on The Ed Sullivan Show, which elapsed time seems like yesterday to this day tripper (me) who happened to be just a beastie boy. Upon hearing in utter disbelief over the telly On December 8, 1980, the breaking news videre licet regarding the murder of John Lennon, a member of the Beatles, outside his New York City apartment building, I felt numb standing stock still in the kitchen (within childhood home of mine) at 324 Level Road, and nearly found myself asphyxiating as if trapped within a yellow submarine buried within briny deep courtesy stone(d) temple pilot. Yours truly stormed out of the house analogous to a stormtrooper heading into the thick of battle experienced being dazed and confused espying a Led Zeppelin in the front yard after getting a closer look I quickly realized parked guests came from an alien nation, which immediately prompted me to avail myself to be abducted courtesy unidentified anomalous phenomena bidding goodbye to father and mother quietly pleading... dear prudence escaping the helter skelter amidst humanity here, there and everywhere wistfully envisioning a utopia like dreamers do able, eager, ready and willing to embark upon a magical mystery tour this fool on the hill, a veritable nowhere man feeling like nobody's child psyching myself to be free as a bird yearning to adopt fearlessness after froggy went a courtin jump/kick starting far out and groovy kismet to become a paperback writer renown on par with aforementioned famous British balladeer but before taking fateful step into dark shadows hiding the outer limits of the twilight zone, I dashed off a short note to family and friends, and subsequently flagged down letterman also asking please mister postman to inform kith and kin NOT to summon search party, cuz yours truly hopes to frolic amidst strawberry fields forever.