Best Mania Poems
Beatlemania (The Fab Four As Lovers)
Once a choir boy, John turned to romance,
Fell for Yoko almost at first glance.
In full public view
In bed with her too -
Showed the world how to “give peace a chance.”
Quiet George played much more than guitar.
Lost his wife to another rock star.
Layla left him because
Of how hung up he was
On the music he made with his sitar!
Ringo acted in “Caveman” and met
His wife Barb (once a Bond girl) on set.
Though the film of this drummer
Was dumber than dumber,
Wise in love, he’s not left his Barb yet!
A heart breaker, Paul left Wife "One"
For Linda, and made her a vegan!
On their farm smoking pot,
They made money (a LOT)!
He’s a genius whose life sure seems fun!
written Oct. 13, 2013 for the BeatleMania Contest of
Rhonda Johnson-Saunders
we pressed our noses ‘gainst the restaurant glass
for we were just tossed out upon our ass
cuz we forgot our Covid vaccine pass
becoming citizens - now second class
a passerby informed us that our masks
were not up to their intended task
that we shouldn’t pass around our flask
within sight of the warm and steamy glass
the police were called to move us on our way
we insisted that we had the right to stay
assembled as a group of friends at play
they tasered us much to our shocking dismay
so let this be a lesson to your face
they’d rather that you keep your mask in place
tried to sip your drink with slurp-less grace
quickly left to clear another space
John G. Lawless
©1/14/2022
Ooey, gooey, give me choc-o-lot!
If I must, I'll take it liquid hot,
But "wicked" like they fix it in Madrid,
Thick as porridge, satin sunburnt sweet.
(Not like here: sugar,milk and cocoa, mix and heat).
Give me some hot chocolate I can eat!
Drip-drop-dripping from a spoon!
Give it - give it to me in a box.
Tantalize my lips with luscious bits,
Rum and amaretto morsels dipped.
Give me it in chips or chunks or blocks.
And please not those from K-mart or the grocer.
We connoisseurs much prefer it kosher!
Give it to me Swiss or straight from France.
Hurry while I loosen up my pants!
I'll make do with anything you have.
Drizzled over ice-cream nice and smoothy.
chocolate is the universal salve.
chilled or warm, but slathered on it soothes me.
Make my ice-cream chocolate flavored too-
peanut butter swirls with fudge will do.
Be my ever sweet-tooth choco-fairy.
Finger-feed me bonbons. I'm your baby.
Feed me plump and succulent black berry.
Give me, give me, give me what I crave,
and I shall be your love-starved-choco-slave.
10/5/13
When I wrote this, it just flowed to me, like chocolate water; usually I have to sit and think a bit and poetry often does not flow from me in this way!
My pulse is high and the heart beats double punch
Paul McCartney, George Harrison, John Lennon, Ringo Starr
Music, lyrics, melody in beautiful harmony
"Love me do" ..... yes, it feels like love ....
Strawberries crown in my hair with the boys
"Strawberry Fields Forever"
Quite a sweet dream ... "All You Need Is Love" .....
Paul, George, John and Ringo sings "Is not She Sweet"
I lose my breath, this must be "Real Love"
"Penny Lane" ..... Who is "Penny Lane"
"Please Please Me" - feel a little tired - "A Hard Day's Night"
"Help" they are behaving like "Bad Boy"
"Abbey Road" is a nice place .... but, "Let It Be"
I'm going home with a "Yellow Submarine"
"Cry For A Shadow"
28.10.2013 A-L Andresen :)
Copyright © All Rights Reserved
Sponsor Rhonda Johnson Saunders
Contest Name Beatlemania!
When the fab four hit the floor
Back in the year of sixty four
We all would scream and shout
Now we wonder what it was all about
We bought the records one by one
Long discarded these discs now done
Songs that have come and gone
Sweet memories of a favorite one
Let It Be was the one I liked
Records to number one did spike
Now a couple guys are dead and gone
Now Paul sings to them a tribute song
Memories will linger of the past
Beatle Mania will survive and last.
09/11/13
‘ Lil tyke
New Bike
Big deal
Two wheel
A crash
Road rash
Don't cry
Re-try
He rides
with pride!
Look at us, all lonely people
Tasting your words as seasons roll
For dreams are reborn glazed by fire;
When strings explode, plucked to inspire
As lines croon, throbbing sighs kindle.
Notes of vision unchain time’s riddle
Let it be, verse rocks in vigil
Guitars strumming peace on live wire,
Look at us.
To all you say, make life flicker
While long and winding roads still dwell
Teaching the world love’s not for hire.
As fused pair, lyrics reach hearts’ spire
To cuddle hope, feeding desire,
Look at us.
~Lenon-Mc Cartney Team, inspiration
from the songs Eleanor Rigby, Let It Be,
and The Long and Winding Road
~To my uncles for their Beatles passion
~Beatle Mania Contest: Rhonda J. Saunders
Vaccine Maia
Oh, joy, the magic, potion is here!
To be injected in the arm, not my
derrière!
I am no fool to buy like eternal swishing via a potion.
This is sone magical health revolution.
I'd rather die, by God's voice.
Nor Big Brothers demanding choice.
Like worms is a fresh apple they've taken freedoms away.
People hide and are depressed
and their emotions sway.
With masks I can take no more...
And no, in front of this face, I will
not sport a plastic door.!
No,you may not tell me with whom
I might dine,
Nor fine me, because my life is mine!
Stand up for your freedoms, stop
being fool's fear ghoul .
Fear of the virus is their the politicos' main pain political tools.
Rise up nations, make your case.
You are about to have all freedoms erased!
11-24-2020
In mania, the body unbinds itself.
The skeleton’s dense marrow becomes hollow,
an avian adjustment. It is accelerated evolution.
Fluttering and floating in a slew of thoughts
like nervous wind chime chatter.
My brother blew in through the rattling gate
accompanied by October’s cruelest gale.
Eyes unwillingly wide, levered by a crowbar
his hazel doorways ripped from their hinges.
He ran fervently through the streets of West Chester
with lungs coated with cannabis and amphetamines
until there was blood beneath his toenails, dripping out
just like Jesus’ wine weeping out from his searing limbs.
As he entered into the home of our distant childhood,
his back burned from the warm wrath of penitent leather
the self-flagellation, the begging for the flames of Purgatory
To appease the eyes of a looming Lord
his fate-sealing gaze hidden in twilight’s comforting veil
He says he holds a guilt beyond human comprehension,
that he is an evil person. I tell him we are just flawed people.
After a decade of intentful detachment, my brother cracks open
his ribcage as it blooms like a flower from his sternum.
He says there is a sickness in his soul, and that I will
never truly know him.
My mother and father have had heads made of granite
since he has come home. There are heavy eyes shadowed with
bags made of storm clouds. They have prayed with their
clergy. They have contacted multiple attorneys.
My sibling is a storm that has wrought ruin, but
he can heal. His violent storm might sow a beautiful season
The warmth of his first real smile will bring upon renaissance,
and as the tears and snot seep into the soil of my shoulder
our cheeks may grow a vibrant emerald moss.
Have you ever touched the universe
And felt its power course through your veins?
Felt the alleviation of all your pain?
Have you ever woken up in the morning
And realized you were at the very center
Of all creation?
That everything happening to you
Had a simple explanation?
Have you held a superpower in your hands
And genuinely believed you could change the world?
That you are more than just a simple girl,
I have.
I have lived as an immortal god
With a divine purpose.
Born again without the curses,
Do you know how Jesus felt
When he knew his role
Was to be sacrificed
For the good of us all?
I know it completely.
I have lived ten thousand lifetimes simultaneously
And seen the world through a fractured perspective.
How everything is connected.
I have seen the reincarnation of my grandfather
As a golden retriever no longer bothered,
I watched time reverse
And gave birth to my own universe.
Have you ever been so miserable
That your mind creates a world of its own for you to hide in?
A world of gods and heroes,
A world of ghosts and goblins?
A world where that pain you can’t run from
Means something other than a miserable existence.
Can you blame me for getting lost in such a world?
For having no resistance,
Look around you.
Is that what you call happiness?
With all your goals and all your classiness?
You don’t know the meaning of the word.
Of all the things you have incurred,
Do you know what you would feel,
If that desire you covet deep inside you was real?
You think you know misery?
Your mind knows all your darkest secrets.
Every time you spoke to Jesus,
What would you do,
If that mind started to use those secrets against you?
What if you could touch and taste and smell something imaginary?
Could you tell the difference between that and reality?
Knowing that if you get it wrong
You will be locked away from society.
Would you tether yourself to what you are told is true
And hope that society isn’t just as delusional as you?
Do you know what it means
To truly pull yourself back from the edge?
To live on the cusp between life and death?
Have you nearly killed yourself
While laughing uncontrollably? No?
Well, this is my story.
Mania is...
It’s a very sneaky thing,
mania is...
I’m humming along,
no doubt minding
someone else’s business,
giving little attention
to my own state of being.
when in it slips,
mania does,
a message under my door:
“I’m here; are you ready?”
I never am.
I always am.
Many of us who live
in a carefully balanced state
mourn the loss of our mania
as if it were a death.
Oh my God though,
what we can do when we’re there —
write with Kerouac ferocity;
touch Pollock’s intensity;
persuade the opposite or same sex
that an afternoon of play
is the best thing
that will happen to them this year;
find a Maserati’s limits
(Why are my passengers always terrified?).
Others of us fly
too far,
too fast,
from the tightrope of sanity,
melting Icarus-like
in the heat of soaring —
head in the oven;
deft cuts with a Gillette product;
an abundance of downers;
one blast of a twelve-gauge.
Don’t misunderstand me...
I would fly without hesitation
at a moment’s notice,
but I have a fear of melting.
“Woe is me,” when football season closes
Crimson Tide lost in a sea of roses
Tampa Bucs, Tide, Seminoles
To “off” my remote just strolls
I’ll use TM for football osmosis
My Coach Bowden-signed football is glass-encased
How do I endure the trauma I’ve faced?
With my pompoms cast aside
“Six-month drought!” I cried
“It would hurt less to have my face replaced.”
*Entry for Susan’s “Drama Queen” contest.
I Took my son on a trip to the zoo
There was so much for us to see and do
One roar from the lion
My son started crying
The trip was over I was scared to
FOR ZANY ZOO CONTEST
he signs his name - -
a madman smiles and strokes
his revolver
John Lennon
For Rhonda’s Beatle Mania contest
Mania
It’s a very sneaky thing, mania is.
I’m humming along,
probably minding someone else’s business,
giving little attention to my own state of being
when it slides in, mania does,
a message slipped under the door saying,
“Here I come. Are you ready?”
But I never am,
or, to tell the truth,
I always am.
I know… I’ll go to the airport and buy a ticket to Las Vegas gamble that’s what I want to do there’s a Rolex and a fat gold ring with diamonds that I really must have I‘ll buy a Ferrari when I get there driving very fast will be great fun I love blackjack don’t you the last time I played I lost my house pizza I need pizza drinks for everyone sleep oh no there’s far too much to do what color do you want to paint the kitchen I’m going to write a novel like Jack Kerouac on a roll of paper towels where are the paper towels that woman over there I’m sure she knows that being in bed with me is the best thing that will happen to her this year more pizza no I had some yesterday or was it the day before besides that who has time to eat I’m talking so fast that you can’t understand what I’m saying and that it doesn’t make sense anyway so it doesn’t matter you’re just not listening and I don’t care anyway no I’m not tired…
I live in a carefully balanced state,
mourning the loss of my mania.
The trick I’ve learned
is to vibrate just enough
to feel the edge, perhaps even
touch it for a minute or two,
but pull back before there’s blood,
before I fly.