In the labyrinth of life one walks winding path
Full of triumph, trials, turquoise tears, lime laughs
If you believe in John Lennon’s yellow yesterday
You may embrace the rear view mirror reminiscing
And possibly miss the most beautiful moments
Like the rise of a Phoenix sun or
It’s setting like a fireball rolling down green hills
Like the marriage of mother moon
Pregnant in unknown black galaxies
To the silvery stars that call a poet’s heart
These vibrant views are nice in a photo
But in the present they are priceless
Worthy of undivided attention and respect
Lennon believed in yesterday but
“ Isn’t it nice to think that tomorrow is a new day with no mistakes in it yet?”
Was John Lennon
crossing the line,
mucking about,
burning his bridges,
or bucking the palace,
a fine sign of the times
then, in 1969,
not often seen,
when returning his MBE
to The Queen?
Oh my love, I imagine how the world would be
if everyone decided to give peace a chance
if you stand by me we'll break out in dance
every woman man and child would be set free
from the tyranny of injustices and greed
we'd remember it's up to each of us to take the lead
Oh my love, imagine how the world would be
if we'd all realize that in our hand we hold the key
AP: 2nd place 2025, 2nd place 2025, 3rd place 2025
Revolution
always eats
its children
Feasting
on prodigy
— dogma be damned
(Dreamsleep: January, 2025)
Many years ago, there was an envious man
lurking in John Lennon's Garden.
Disillusioned- dirty -confused.
John came out of his mansion and chatted with him for a bit.
Explaining that he was just an ordinary bloke.
Who wrote songs and was nothing special.
John invited him in for a bite to eat.
The man dined with the Lennons and seemed at peace.
"Imagine", treating a grubby waif like a king.
he's a sweet harmonica home Joe
soft steel raven, bending blues
dripping honey from her spoon
nothing quite says melancholy
like a harp in cupping wah-wah glow
for endless grooves, a winding show
playing Take Me Home Country Road
and Lennon's riff in Love Me Do
with gracious silk, a satin throw
a trip to the moon in a single note
around the cosmos, her kiss, I know
our love, warm lips, harmonica Joe
Imagine there's no cupcake
Someone in the house ate yours
No Krispy Kremes or KitKats
No pudding pops or s'mores
Imagine there's no halva
Behind cupboard doors, oo hoo oo.
Eye candy of literacy
Sit with me under the poet tree
It's colorful leaves with windy wet dreams
Glowing growing holy wise sandy seas
Raining sonnets psalms songs of gold
Beige yesterday, neon now, future silver soul
Of foreign of home
Of saint sinner some other zone
This black leaf is Emily
So dark smart sharply bleak
The red leaf rouge and profound
As Alice Walker's words painting nouns
The blue leaf a jazzy ballet
Of sonnets haikus John Lennon's yesterday
The green leaf with promises of now
From music the ears of poetry sound
Alex Haley, Dr Seus, ancient poets and the new
Prophetic stars of heart and writer monsoon
Romantic rage roulette of moon
All are priceless jewels alone or in unity
All behold gifts of God, heart,soul, poet tree.
Forty years ago
John Lennon changed the whole world
We lost an legend
"Imagine there's no heaven"
"Nothing to kill or die for"
08/12/2020
Sun :) - A-L Andresen :)
Copyright © All Rights Reserved
...i bless 103.9 fm...
(hrrrmph....cofcof...mmmmm)
the-station-stays-on
...stationed-days-on
which-music-shone-on
...so-fun-is-on-us-on-us-on-us
andt-the
...sun-is-on-ya-on-ya-on-ya
john-lennons-lent-on-daze
...all-day-all-day-all-day
memory-of-dis-ember eighth
...his-embers-will-rate
twelve-hours-straight
...in-a-world-music-trait
to-imagine-love-not-hate
...peace-is-running-late
so-put-john-len-on-your-slate
stan sand
So This is Over
A living legend now dead.
All grief and sorrow
Flows through my head.
I can't understand
Why such things must be.
I wish there was someone
Who'd explain it to me.
John Lennon was human
This we cannot deny.
But, I can't understand
Why he had to die.
Was his resurgence
Not meant to be?
For creativity and love
Is what the world needs.
When I was younger
I tried to relate.
But, I can't believe
John's death was just fate.
A world stops and wonders
What has God done.
John didn't just die,
But, a part of everyone.
So This is Over
A million voices have died.
Who'd sing his new lyrics,
No only can cry.
Sometime in New York City
They murdered John.
But, his memory and music
Will Always live on.
12-8-1980
On the 9th of October 1940, a legend was born
He had two children one named Julian and one named Sean
A lady called yoko she was his life
In 1969 she became his wife
In his early life he lived with his aunt
He loved being mischievous and playing the odd prank
He sadly lost his mother and faced life without her
Sometimes things in life are just so unfair
He became part of a band the famous fab four
Every time they sang the audience began to roar
They toured around the world with their many different songs
Bringing excitement to the crowd as they all sing along
Somebody tragically took his life taking him away too soon
Left so many memories he played a good tune
This is in memory of him eighty years on
Please remember him for what he has done
The Christmas theme was ‘space’.
Santa and his space-helpers
worked on the sixth floor.
I was the proud captain
that piloted the space-rocket elevator.
Lennon entered with a big guy in shades and a suit.
We rode up to the fifth floor.
At the time I was trying to grow a Beetle mop.
Lennon turned to me.
“Cool hair,” he said.
I’ve got all the albums” I blurted.
(It was 1964, there were only three).
“Cool”
At the fourth floor
a bunch of girls.
I could hear their excited screaming
as once more I descended
to earth.
Later I checked my hair in the store mirror.
‘Hey’ I thought,
‘I really am cool!’
John Lennon is dead
The news was shared
Mark Chapman shot him in New York City
And we lost one of the Beatles such a pity
He shot him five times outside the Dakota Hotel
Used a Charter Arms 38 pistol a point not to dwell
Then he read the Catcher in the Rye his favorite book in the end
Whilst waiting for the police to respond to show them
He said he was frustrated with Lennon’s lifestyle
And was fixated on Holden Caulfield from the novel for a while
So he sits in jail with his infamy
And we wonder why it came to be.
© Paul Warren Poetry
Lucy is not in the sky
like you were told.
Her feet or on the ground
holding a piece of coal.
The rocking horse people
took her diamond away
and smeared marshmallow pie
across her narrow face.
The marmalade sky’s
ozone has disintegrated,
from the fumes of cellophane
the flowers created.
The tangerine trees
turned to rust,
from newspaper taxis
exhaust pipe dust.
The girl with kaleidoscope eyes,
Immigrated to a safe haven.
Where She was detained
by border control mavens.
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