Yoko heard the gun go
Off in his hands
Yoko saw the life flow
Out of her man
Yoko heard the sad moan
All across the land
Yoko is alone
To never understand
Yoko must cope
In this devil's dance
Yoko with us lost hope
With give peace a chance
Yoko had to let go
Of her man John
While Yoko held on
To their son Shawn
Yoko played the scapegoat
All these many years
Yoko Ono
Cries real tears
As Yoko watched the world go
From love to hate
Yoko misses John so
Eight days a week
Categories:
ono, death, life,
Form: Rhyme
This is an unusual write for me
'cause the title came first.
We shall see where it goes.
Blows
is a loaded word ifya think on it.
Having thought some
it goes
that without blows
there'd be no
us
or them
or me or you blowing whatever clarity
we can get, whether through charity
hilarity
or long-haired hippy freak bed-ins
to realize the thing we've named
purpose.
Categories:
ono, introspection, philosophy,
Form: Rhyme