The Beatles split up so mystically -pronto
the Vietnam spine came back together
some branded the blame into Yoko
some tied a wreath of thorns on the reds.
Imagine time moving queerly along-
Lennon was so very seductively shot
rice paddies are still pocked with craters
where peasants' cast ancient nets into ponds.
The Beatles will never peace back together.
Vietnam will never again be war torn apart
Some are still putting flame onto Yoko
some are still napalming those with red hearts....
Aren't we still wishing to appease mother Saigon...
Aren't we still casting nets, to recapture Dear John?
Categories:
napalming, song, war,
Form: Free verse
"Messages"
Messages are delivered to us
in the strangest of places, we resist
like we are the longest hung revolution,
the biggest most viable important incarnation,
the loudest sonnet to acknowledge the uncanny
timeliness of the unreality of it all,
the removed mathematical equation,
where is the logic in prophecies
waiting for that Pale Rider
to real us into safe quarters
away from the proverbial Storm;
any day now, news will ignite
napalming our unaware safe walls,
walls hung with souls of value
screaming I’m too old for all this
writing and passing of notes
back and forth in school;
to'wit, I’m more than likely, not 1
of the 144, I'm way too sullied,
yet I’ve got hellelujah tribulations galore
Candide Diderot. ‘24
signs/messages
Categories:
napalming, muse, surreal,
Form: Free verse