"beatle" poems
A true story of a chance gathering of strangers in the back room of a Gelato Parlor *** restaurant, two years ago, in a little village near the bay, on a land surrounded by vineyards. Come visit.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Gelato Nation
There is a place,
location secret,
mine to keep,
mine with which
you to tease,
make you envious,
a back room 'office'
jealous guarded
by a barkeep,
whose chosen invites sweeps
you into a reality that is
what you will it to be.
But nota bene, note well,
remembrances of things swell
from your past be the
only tongue spoken here.
Code word entry only,
a shared whisper.
Perhaps One Woman,
may reveal its pleasures,
if she so chooses,
which are:
gelato laughs, poetry snaps,
Beatle songs sung ensemble,
by rag tag strangers
self-collected accidentally,
sung de rigeur off key
by voices lubricated by
cognac, laughter, and
the coldest of white wines,
issue of the very soil
upon which we sit.
Words to value properly,
not in my possess to capture
the few moments in time when;
Strangers transform themselves
into a triple A nation united,
that will never be
S&P; downgraded.
A holy alliance
celebrating July 4th
all night long,
all participants
signatory witnesses to
its gelato conception,
as well as pallbearers
to its last drink dissolution,
the fullness of its lifetime
a vintage of a few hours extant,
a vintage, once drunk, is
a history, forever gone.
Mixologists please record:
One playwright, a psychologist, bond trader and a social scientist
with a dash of museum director,
and do not forget the
Hundred Year Old Woman,
whose Dowager Princess Daughter
(she, a mere eighty)'
from Central Park West
clarifies all of life dilemmas with
the singular analytical tool of:
But is it good for the Jews?
**But t'is the barkeep
who is the leavening
in this evenings human
pastry-petrie dish.**
He makes the pastiche,
the ions of personalities,
coalesce best,
guitar strummer,
singer of songs that were our
multiple national anthems
when we were pseudo-rebels
starting out on our
long and winding roads.
Long the King of the Keep!
Long live the memory of our
Gelato Nation,
may it stay sweet in
our antique collection of
the best moments of
our intersecting lives.
July 2011
Jul 4, 2013
Jul 4, 2013 at 6:00 PM UTC
i
This is for thou both miss Vicki, and miss Beth Stclair, true poet's
Miss Beth StClair, thy sonnet style, brings back the old smile I see;
Miss Vicki, writing of love so quickly, so beautifully inspiring
Miss beth, thy word's got me flying I'll buyeth thy book real soon.
ii
Miss Vicki, thou art an old soul made of gold, a home amongst homes, as thou liveth in mine state, miss beth, I'd seeith thee if I go to England, amongst the Beatle street's we'll speaketh of ourn living's, and reciteth sonnet's of Shakespearian knowledge.
iii
Miss Vicki, thy jargon is wrapped like a bouquet, glazed with honey, thine words art displayed, people in this world like Thee I do prayeth, that thine life wilt be joyful, and harmonious in thy tommorrow, beth, I feeleth thine wild's, as the sixties thou hadst.
iv
Beth StClair, if it was back in the day, we'd be wonderful friend's, thou wouldst hath watched me on a stage, singing poetic thunder, miss Vicki, when thou feeleth down and under, continue to write thy creator in thy works, and I promise thou both, thou both hath
A friend in me......
©Brandon nagley
©Miss Vicki/miss Beth StClair dedication for both of you (:::::
©Lonesome poet's poetry
Jul 28, 2015
Jul 28, 2015 at 4:02 PM UTC
My use of personal pronouns
Puts me in my poem;
I can roll a rock with Sisyphus,
Be in a ceiling flame in Rome.
I can bring you back to life,
Sharing tales and tea;
Sitting there before my fire,
For all eternity.
I go marauding with Attila,
Walk with Neil Armstrong,
Fly high with Amelia,
Be a Beatle with my song.
My pronouns give me presence
In my lover's residence;
I'm just a specter she can't see;
A spirit roaming outside of me.
I can jot an I with you,
I could pen an our;
But that's just ink on my notebook,
Not as sweet as sour.
I can use my pronouns
To put you in my verse;
And then I lay my pen down,
I'm cursed, but none the worse.
You're just poetry to me.
Dec 29, 2018
Dec 29, 2018 at 11:38 AM UTC
I shoud've told the bartender to tie me to the last working pay phone.
But I didn't. I let her introduce herself. Sadie, she said, like The Beatle's song.
I'm hard to forget, so I asked, What's your motto?
She breathed in reverse. She looked at the door. She was past mottos.
It was Josh, right?
Yeah.
Let me tell you something. I'm the bad, **** ***** that's gonna wreck your health.
And she did.
Every weekend for 105 weekends. I opened her up like a paycheck.
I spent her on a big brass bed.
I spent her on glass tile.
I spent her on the kitchen island.
The Japanese table.
The water lily pond.
Her brother Frank or Gary or Marvin---some American classic---kept us
horizontal with white whiskey from his personal still.
Personal still.
And there is a house in New Orleans,
but there's another one in Colorado Springs,
one you should be wary of.
I shoud've told the bartender to tie me to the last working pay phone.
But I didn't. I let him tell me about his dream. My name is Jack, he said, as in Jumpin' Jack Flash.
Like the Rolling Stones' song?
Like the Stones' song, man.
You were in it.
Four white girls shared one mic. Karaoke night.
You were in my dream. Are you listening to me? I'm gonna say it anyways.
I only had one eye, but I could see you. Seen you plain as day.
You were scared of me. As you should be. We were on the coast.
No, I don't know which one. I saw that thought on your forehead.
It was a dream. Anyway, you were holding a pen. A giant pen.
And I asked for your name.
I lifted my drink from the makeshift napkin coaster. Pulled a pen out of my coat pocket.
Straightened out the napkin. I scribbled Nobody. Handed it to him. And aimed myself toward the interstate.
I shoud've told the bartender to tie me to the last working pay phone.
But I didn't. She had one helluva an afro. Her name was Katrina, not like any song, like the hurricane.
My skin tastes a little like coffee, Katrina said.
I like coffee.
You wouldn't like me.
Probably not. But I've been lost in this bar forever. I could change my mind.
No, sweetie. Forever ain't that long. Just ask my ex-husband.
Katrina paid for her drink. Asked me if I'd like the change.
Yeah, I'll take it.
I called my buddy Chris back in Oklahoma, but he didn't answer.
I called my buddy Ben back in Oklahoma, but he didn't answer.
Sam. Sarah. Brooks. Nothing. Silence.
Barkeep (I always wanted to say it), I don't think your phone is working.
It works. You gotta remember kid. You're on Rocky time.
There's an hour, every night,
where you're the only person you know that's awake.
Jul 30, 2013
Jul 30, 2013 at 2:48 AM UTC
The ghost of Christmas past dropped in
You see. he was completely out of wine
He had two stops to make by three
so, he borrowed some of mine
He asked me how i was getting on
since, he came around that night
with Jacob and the other two
and took me on that flight
i told him i was doing well
but, i thought he had to know
i was succeptible to pnuemonia now
since they dragged me through the snow
it's just the nature of the beast
that you may get a cold
the younger ones, not quite so much
it's just that you were old
i asked him where he had to go
and who he had to see
he told me , Ebby you know the rules
but, i can give you guesses...three
the first place that i'm off to now
is really not that far
this one, used to be a beatle
peace and love is for this starr
i was surprised that it was Ringo
he said, he had to be reeled in
his ego grew a little bit
and to his boss that was a sin
The second place he had to go
he needed wine for the bar
because he was going out to celebrate
and he brought a good cigar
He said this one, he's off his head
He's gone back fifty years
There's a lot of things he needs to see
So, with your wine, I'll need some beers
If everything goes as we hope
And he can make amends
He plans on calling Cuba
And saying...it's time that we were friends
Dec 19, 2014
Dec 19, 2014 at 1:30 AM UTC
A ******** kid growing up
in Rosewood all alone,
a world full of anger
& turf fights.
She learned early-on
how to use a butterfly knife,
showcases a horizontal battle scar
on her shoulder blade,
it makes her look mean.
She has the face of a dark angel,
elegant-Hispanic
with hints of ******
twisted on her full rosy lips.
She talks rude street-vernacular,
the same dialect used by
those cracked gems
doing hard time
down in the big house.
She’s just seventeen,
and not the kind
found standing in
a Beatle happy-ever-after love song.
This girl plays tough,
she witnessed her first drive-by at ten,
dropped out at twelve,
she’d slit your throat for her tribe,
that’s rough.
And sadly,
she’ll never get out,
ever get to see
the wonderful things
most young girls dream about
that come true.
Jan 10, 2014
Jan 10, 2014 at 1:18 PM UTC
Horse hog beatle eatin mad hair spinning wandering Druid in rags and rage from some untold war,
sweat and secrets in the dust of a sleeve,
the shadows tell of souls that fell and are held in bags, the trophies of the dead,
grim times grim place, a stain, a beard, a violent gleam in an honest eye,
flying eyes with wings that carry we I to salvation known to be see-through truths,
step out of the alley and we call attention to the rips in pockets,
loose girls, loose change, loose lips lose everything,
I will not return, I will not be held,
I will not be judged by sawdust filled domes resting on water bags like rotting fruit still on the vine,
it's almost like the sunshine could be brought down and called mine, again,
every time I see that smile I dance a hundred times on the grave,
my ultimate dream slave,
my body calls once and I move on,
I'm always moving on towards another drawn dawn,
another card burnt into the table,
straying is my way of saying this is real, this is done before my feet hit the ground,
why should I rush the fun of coming undone?
Of sliding down to run up and hang a crow on my brown burnt brimmed hat and sit on a fence watching Him play a tune and learn to lose as He leads those lambs to their doom,
spitin and listenin to that mad burglar spinnin old brews that sleeps the jury and the suits and the brats that cry morning dew on my shoulder,
who says that the road is long? It's just a little dusty and walked on!
Tappin my way to the sky, tappin my way to some sunny day in your eyes, baby blue eyes I can't help but smile, you can't blame me if I smile.
Feb 29, 2012
Feb 29, 2012 at 4:06 PM UTC
By Arcassinburnham
Spoon full,
Going in and out your mouth,
****** feelings,
Gooey as sour crout,
Love the country,
Like you don't miss the city,
But getting mushy,
When your too pretty,
Going away,
When the summer ends,
Consideration to make you stay,
But my lungs in my chest won't bound again,
Make you say,
My name three times like Beatle juice,
Don't get carried away,
Cause I'm loving you,
Cheesecake,
Cheesecake,
Thats the only I think about,
When it was you,
Cheesecake,
Cheesecake,
Thats the only I think about,
When it was you,
Cheesecake,
Cheesecake,
Thats the only I think about,
When it was you,
Cheesecake,
Cheesecake,
Thats the only I think about,
When it was you.
Oct 4, 2014
Oct 4, 2014 at 5:00 PM UTC
David Song
Yawning wide I awake amiss foes!
More Haters rise against wayward me
No beat say Haters have I in heart
Rhythm down for the count, no help
Roll & Rock.
Lordie lord, how wall sound wraps me round
Gloria singing song, smoking eyes
Let me sing too to you waking yawn
Holler and the caller, breaking rocks
Rock & Roll
Lays me down
And I awake with a lifting Yawn.
Bring it on you thousand Naysayers
Circling round and round against me
Wake up Yawn!
Salvation
Hits haters in cheek and tongue
There's more to me than broken Fang
Saved by master tape my longing Yawn
Beatle blessing to the masses of
Rock & Roll.
Feb 10, 2013
Feb 10, 2013 at 9:45 AM UTC
Back in the day of the fifties music scene.
You had rivals of opposite back grounds.
But similar in many ways.
Whether it was country , or the blues.
You have rivals impressing you.
Chuck Berry, with his oddity sound.
Had Buddy Holly , with his similar odd sound.
Say LittleRichard and think Jerry Lee Lewis.
Two of the baddest piano players that was original.
And we know Elvis had no rival of his style.
Although for some reason they think it was Fabians.
Who were far from it?
The Beatle during the sixties had the Rolling Stones.
While the Temptations had the Impressions.
And the Lovin' Spoonful had the Rascals.
We, see things that reminds you of twins.
Sometimes, it pays to be different.
To let your personality come shining through.
Which we know music usually do.
It soothes the savage beast.
Unless it part of a music called rage.
Or maybe even rap.
But this just a matter of opinion.
Mar 29, 2013
Mar 29, 2013 at 11:03 AM UTC
*Oh Abbey Road
who has walked your heart
singing from way back then
only the most famous of all
only to end with Let It Be
and please Just Imagine in 1969...
John, you wouldn't have many years left
your birthday came and we always loved
Paul, you will continue to sing your heart
and fly with Wings
Ringo, Sweet Sixteen, Your beautiful
and your mine
George singing to your SWEET LORD ...
We miss you John, its your birthday
your words are still magic, as we follow
you down Abbey Lane....although a bullet
took you away that FATEFUL day
December 8, 1980.
It left holes in our hearts
The torture, the publicity and Beatle mania'
took a toll, your life had an aura, you would come
on and perform a miracle just one last time
as we follow you down Abbey Lane and the Yoga
acid trip ...
Happy Birthday dear John
you are sooooo missed .
Debbie
Oct 10, 2014
Oct 10, 2014 at 1:27 AM UTC
There once was a Beatle and a Bird
Who enjoyed a cup of tea every hour of the 3rd
At whome, passer bys would exclaim “Absurd!”
“These two could never give what the other deserves”
But still the Beatle and the Bird
Remained ever so undeterred
Nov 12, 2010
Nov 12, 2010 at 7:46 AM UTC
Beatle Bomb
I should have known better, but if I fell, can you tell me why?
I'm happy just to dance with you, anytime at all,
you can't do that, if you love me do,
I want to hold your hand, and your bird can sing too,
said you was a taxman, it was a hard days night,
you can drive my car, but you wont see me,
I'm looking through you, but you're nowhere man,
had a ticket to ride, eight days a week,
it was only yesterday, when I met the day tripper,
we can work it out, with the paperback writer,
we called Eleanor Rigby and Penny Lane,
and now it's getting better, with a little help from my friends,
You say “Helllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllooooooooooooooooo”
I say “Goodbye”,
You say “Helllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllooooooooooooooooo”
I say “Goodbye”,
I was living in a glass onion with Dear Prudence,
I said help! Lady Maddona, won't you just let it be,
Martha my dear, took her Blackbird and Piggies
while Rocky Racoon and Bungalow Bill found something to ****
Julia and **** Sadie had honey pie for their birthday
while there was a revolution back in the U.S.S.R
it was helter skelter but everybody's got something to hide
but I'm getting better, fixing a hole, using Maxwell's silver hammer
and mean Mr Mustard was chasing Polythene Pam
so she came in through the bathroom window
guess it is time to just Let it be
You say “Helllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllooooooooooooooooo”
I say “Goodbye”,
You say “Helllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllooooooooooooooooo”
I say “Goodbye”,
Gomer LePoet...
Jul 26, 2013
Jul 26, 2013 at 1:24 PM UTC
GOD **** THIS CZECH SHAPESHIFTING
lost in Praha
lost in Kafka
losing myself
careful making deals
with old Nick
I said 'Beatle' not 'beetle'
***
WHEN FRANZ MET DÓNALL
'When Dónall Dempsey woke up one morning from unsettling dreams, he found himself changed in his bed into a monstrous version of a certain F. Kafka.
Someone must have been telling lies about Dónall Dempsey, he knew he had done nothing wrong but, one morning, he was arrested to find out he had been turned into this F. Kafka.
Where had his Dónall Dempsey-ness gone and why - Kafka? He knew of but had never actually read any - Kafka He had knowledge of the tropes...what Kafka could be reduced to in terms of general knowledge that could possibly clinch a pub quiz victory so that people would nod sagely and say "I knew...you being a poet and all...that you would know the answer to that."
I found that what had happened to me...whatever had happened to me...was more extensive that I had thought so that even my initial "D" become the 11th letter of the alphabet instead of the usual fourth. I was now merely a "K."
I realised I would have to go to Prague to bring some semblance of sense to this transformation. And when I did so...hiding myself among the many tourists...I discovered that Kafka had become me and that we had somehow traded places.
So that now there was a Dónall Dempsey cafe and postcards bearing my features and other such touristy attractions that would be sure to be a sure fire attraction to the traveller with a literary bent of mind.
I visited the grave...his grave...and sure enough...it was my name that was chiseled into the stone.
Meanwhile Kafka was enjoying my life and strolling around Guildford as if it was his own. He appeared to be enjoying being Dónall Dempsey.
"Ha ha..!" I thought. "Give it time...give it time!" And Franz would surely find that being Dónall Dempsey wasn't such a good thing.
And myself being a literary tourist attraction? I ****** well hated it I wanted to crawl away and die or be trampled to a pulp by a frightened child who had discovered a cockroach in her cornflakes.
Dec 7, 2020
Dec 7, 2020 at 8:01 AM UTC
You told me personally on facebook to stop posting bus pictures
This is strictly for you
Everything I will be saying for you to pursue
But whatever happened to understanding
What’s wrong with knowing about a bus?
Bus Nuts are enthusiasts it surrounds us
So why all the negative fuss
Knowledge and education all get a plus
If you don’t like what you see than just flee
We are Bus Nuts and we hold the key
Misery loves company
But I will not be your guest
In fact, you don’t get respect being an unwelcomed pest
I certainly will not be at your request
I am a bus nut and it’s the multitude more than me
You lack personality and all can see
Just because you never had the opportunity to get your bus ride on
I suggest that you just move along
2016 is negativity has no place
Your negative comment has been erased
Let the bus exhaust be the force
Let your lack of understanding take a new course
As a bus nut I will continue to be
Bus pictures will continue for all to see
A Beatle’s song “Let it be”
So the facebook person who told me more bus post
It’s really up to us bus nuts folks
You actually have no vote
You are only wasting your own time
Buses are here to stay
Go read a book and just astray
Maybe just maybe you might be ok
Life is how you live it
Strive in what participation that you give
The bus has departed
You are left all alone.
Jan 21, 2016
Jan 21, 2016 at 7:09 PM UTC
I am the walrus walking, with Lucy in the sky with her diamonds, talking about going to Mr. Kites show tonight and then we'd have dinner at the Octopus's garden in the shade with Father MacKenzie. She said that Rocky raccoon was going to be at the show too and I remembered that Lady Madonna will stay for a bit if she earns enough money. I bet you didn't know that Sgt. Pepper's lonely hearts band will be there to play a bit. They are going to arrive in the yellow submarine with the nowhere man. then they are going to strawberry fields to play. I am going to meet up with them tomorrow at Abbey road and then go visit Jojo with them. From there we'd go to play for the Blue meanies and their bulldogs. What a wonderful place Beatle world is, but I have a ticket to ride the Magic mystery bus back to reality. Too bad I can't stay awhile longer!
May 2, 2010
May 2, 2010 at 6:43 PM UTC
i was thinking of the cavern club just the other daywhere in the sixties all the groups would playthere was lots bands who came from miles around they put it all together and made the mersey soundmy favourite was the beatles in there beatle suitswith there beatle haircut and winkle picker bootsthere was john and george paul and ringo toothey made lots of songs that everybody knew.there was many others so many i cant namethe beatles were the ones that always had the famethe music is still around to this very daythe sounds of the sixties will never go away
Mar 2, 2010
Mar 2, 2010 at 8:30 AM UTC
Hay Jude, you are a gift.
Take a breath,
and you will know it.
The minute you open up your heart,
than you can start,
to make life better.
Hay Jude, don't be afraid.
You have power,
by moving in your dreams.
The minute you stand and reconnect
than you can bet
to make things better.
And even when you feel the pain,
you'll gain to see,
that spirit is near for you to call on.
And you know it is the truth
you are Divine,
and will help many inside your journey.
Na na na na na na,
na na na na!
Hay Jude,
you are precious.
I am grateful,
for all that you do.
Remember, just be who you are.
You are a star, meant to live empowered.
Yeah!
So let it out and do release,
so you have peace.
The dark will transmute
inside of loves light.
And let your dreams anchor so strong
you do belong,
to carry the love touch for the future.
Na Na Na Na Na Na, Na Na Na Na Na
yeah!
Hay Jude, move in your light,
you are were meant to
expand and flourish.
Just take a deep breath
and realign,
you will be fine,
to shift and feel better.
Better, Better, Better, Better, Better!
Na Na Na Na Na Na Na
Na Na Na Na Go Jude.
Na Na Na Na Na Na Na
Na Na Na Na Hay Jude.
Na Na Na Na Na Na Na
Na Na Na Na Great Jude.
Na Na Na Na Na Na Na
Na Na Na Na Hay Jude.
Na Na Na Na Na Na Na
Na Na Na Na Sweet Jude.
Na Na Na Na Na Na Na
Na Na Na Na Go Jude
Your loved love your loved!
Na Na Na Na Na Na Na
Na Na Na Na Great Jude.
Na Na Na Na Na Na Na
Na Na Na Na Rock Jude.
Na Na Na Na Na Na Na
Na Na Na Na Hay Jude.
Na Na Na Na Na Na Na
Na Na Na Na Go Jude.
Your loved love your loved!
Na Na Na Na Na Na Na
Na Na Na Na Great Jude.
Na Na Na Na Na Na Na
Na Na Na Na sweet Jude.
Na Na Na Na Na Na Na
Na Na Na Na Go Jude.
Na Na Na Na Na Na Na
Na Na Na Na Hay Jude
Na Na Na Na Na Na Na
Na Na Na Na Divine Jude.
Na Na Na Na Na Na Na
Na Na Na Na Great Jude.
Na Na Na Na Na Na Na
Na Na Na Na sweet Jude.
Na Na Na Na Na Na Na
Na Na Na Na Go Jude.
Na Na Na Na Na Na Na
Na Na Na Na Hay Jude.
Dec 5, 2017
Dec 5, 2017 at 11:11 AM UTC
Where is that lover in the black dress? One not of worldly dispair, one of makeup made from queen like caress.
Where is the string player? The dream slayer amongst devils of men, beyond cremation of friend's. For words art just meaning's of all seeming realities of cape fear! No desires ever met, for this one truest of death surely draweth near.
Like liquid to the needle, like wings on the Beatle, air conditioned rooms made from doom, I bleed out prophetic tears!!!
Images of ashy mascara currupts human time, queen of black, sits on back cracking fingers in glue like slime!!!
An actualiser, say adieu to morning glory faces. Painted on places to canvasses of darkened boutique....
The administrator,a navigator gather all on cloudish cobblestoned paths, much more than an assembly....
Babiche laces rambling to the dark souled queens Victorian skin!!!!
Axer thy taste towards her, the one owned by no one!!!! The one adored...
She whistles to heartbrakes destruction...... ( la,LA,LA,LA....she's the only one awake amongst those who snore....
©Brandon Nagley
©Prison poetry
©Lonesome poet's poetry
May 9, 2015
May 9, 2015 at 3:54 PM UTC
Faster and faster we ride ,
past the woods and firn and pine ,
untill a tree of rings of love ,
bound us together ,
their branches with a crackle and thud .
Down we fell
further down ,
entwined entangled unexplainable love ,
like a whirl pool our two bodies entwined ,
wrapped together for eternity ,
untill beatle fungi , or man ,
Shall choose to **** us ,
or let us be
And so the years of winter ,
Summer , spring ,
our tree dies and gives us birth again ,
Saplings have grown as we grow old ,
birds have nested in our branches ,
ants, bees , flies flees , and butterflies,
have Passed us by ,
without a hoot or a cry ,
and yet ,
the gull rust passes us by .
O my lady O ,
can you see the white carnations all coiled for spring ,
for they remind me ,
You are the most beautiful thing .
Aug 4, 2019
Aug 4, 2019 at 5:50 AM UTC
Nima said
she was ****** off
and wanted out
of the hospital.
I was visiting her
outside on the lawn.
She was in her
nightgown
getting some sun.
What's up?
I said.
Everything
from the quacks
to the food
to the **** ants
creeping along the floor
by my bed
she said.
Aren't you allowed
out into town
or up to London?
I said.
**** them Benny
she said
just because my mother
put a bad word in
they don't trust me out
in case I go get a fix.
A nurse passed by
out on to the lawn
to attend to a guy
who was doing something
with his *****
No no Henry
not out here
she said.
Nima shook her head
see what I mean
I'm a druggie
these people
are mentally ill
why am I with them?
The guy was taken back
into the ward
by the nurse.
I looked at Nima
I wouldn't get you drugs
I could tell
them that
I said.
No use Benny
they won't listen.
She lit up a cigarette
from the pack
I brought her
and I lit it
and lit one for me.
A radio played
from the open window
of the ward
a Beatle song.
We sat
and smoked
and talked more.
Henry stood flashing
by the open ward door.
Apr 20, 2017
Apr 20, 2017 at 1:07 PM UTC
i was thinking of the cavern club just the other day
where in the nineteen sixties. all the groups would play.
there was lots bands who came from miles around
they put it all together and made the mersey sound.
my favourite was the beatles in there beatle suits
with there beatle haircut and winkle picker boots
there was john and george paul and ringo too
they made lots of songs that everybody knew.
there was many others so many i cant name
the beatles were the ones that always had the fame
there musics still around to this very day
the sounds of the sixties will never go away
Jan 27, 2015
Jan 27, 2015 at 12:25 PM UTC
George Harrison
Quiet Beatle by comparison
Kermit the Frog was one of his peeps
Still his guitar gently weeps
Oct 25, 2019
Oct 25, 2019 at 2:56 PM UTC
Everytime I give it all
To a girl
When I feel like I’ve fallen in love
And when I feel like she feels it too
I manage to drive them away
And find myself lost
In the thought of you
The cool breeze hits directly at my heart
Its so cold in there
I’m not sure if it’s alive at all
But I tell myself it’ll be ok
While listening to a beatle’s song
It’s all lies
You have managed to change my world
Music sends a shiver down my spine
I know I’m a coward
I know I cant do things right
You’d ask ‘what would you do without me?’
I didn’t think I ‘d pick a fight
With life
And now I’m losing
But knowing that you’re happy
Still keeps me alive
(Kathmandu, Nepal 05/18/2014)
May 18, 2014
May 18, 2014 at 4:47 AM UTC