John Lennon's songs
"Yesterday" and "Imagine."
Lennon was asking us
to imagine a place where things that divide people religion, possessions, did not exist.

Would Earth be a much better place to live?
This song is a strong political message that is sugarcoated in a
beautiful melody Lennon knew that a gentler approach would bring one poetic song to a wider audience who would grasp
his creed, and he like Jesus tried
to change the world and like a thorn bird both paid a price

Change while innebitable encounters an abyss of resistance
but just one immutable voice
one tini stone into a sand pool creates the meaningful ripples needed to speed up the initial spinning force.

Imagine how hard it is to "imagine no possesions" when one's personal worth is in the vicinity of half a billion bucks.
IMAGINE was the best song in Lennon's entire career

As the collective imagination of our species produces actual occurrences and manifests our own destiny.
Science has proven that our upper levels of consciousness are linked and the more people that become aware of truth and reality force the rest of the species to evolve.

Fact: We have receivers and transmitters attached to your neurons that vibrate energy "Imagine" by John Lennon
his lyrics on this album
on "Oh My Love."
tells you where he is
"I see the wind I see the trees, everything is clear in my world"

He was feeling being alive he as a poet was expressing to us the intimacy of life.

Imagine was a wish an aspiration.
No war no possessions!

The song coined from Yoko Imagine from her book Grapefruit espoused a world without war weapons and mad men running the world.

He knew we needed liberated women to make the world a better place to effemanise soften male aggression.

It is not about atheism but it is about RELIGION using it as a means to hate not LOVE.

He, like us wondered what created everything that mattered in all our lives a special song by a special human in a special place at a very special time, the song holds a very special place for me
If we all imagine, but finding the secrets of our conduct.

How we resolve ourselves.
Can we win when we lose?

Imagine,  Yesterday, What a Wonderful World, Blowing in the Wind, Amazing Grace and a handful of other songs still give me chills each beautiful song.
And all well-intentioned.

Too bad it is about communism and is misguided.
Man's evil didn't start with nations, possessions or religion.

We were stealing from each other and slaughtering each other well before any of those things existed since pradise fell
We started to CHANGE that.

Our goal isn't to have NO nation. Our goal is to have ONE nation.
for peace on earth
to reign under God.
~~

( In memory of my true love
jPC/Rc who Sang to me his song
"Yesterday" in Veracruz!) He too tried to change earth but I didn't understand him so I feared him and lost the chance to join him reciprocating timely, our love was key. True love was in me for him too but free will faltered. Love cannot be made perfect in fear.

On the table , over there by the woven chair,
a box of prize possesions still line up there.
Left unattended, as if in a rush...
something is now missing...something he used to touch.

Let us flip the page of time, perhapes a few days back.
Count the items that were in the box, perhapes something
is a lack.
A ball of string, so carefully rolled, a coin with faded date.
A photo of a lovely girl and a flag of the United States.
A ring  and then a whisp of hair, human one would hope
and then a little soldier of tin , the hero of the show.
This tin soldier had seen the world, in the hands of the holder.
Seen him slip and fall, civilian and a soldier.
Listens to him as he thinks. Stands by as he cried.
Looked away when words were cursed, felt warm when he saw him smile.
The night was all as usual, the holder had been gone for a few days.
He entered ,sat down at the chair, all seemed normal one would say.
First came out the flag, quite moments would follow that.
Then the photo, ring and hair, normally the holder would sit back.
This time the holder knelt by the fire and the tin soldier strained to see,
the holder cried more then usual, the tin soldier wondered what could it be.
Then came a string of curses and a rush of air,
the tin soldier was caught up in the moment, quite unprepared.
As he layed to close to the flames, he felt his time draw near.....
the final moments as he left he could see the holder clear......

So now the room is empty. The table left untouched.
The holder left and never returned, he had lost all so much.
Tin soldiers they say are a dime a dozen, funny, kind of like us.
It's how we are lined up for the play, what we see or touch... the tin man melts away...we return to dust.

I wish I was a novelist
I could write this into a fairy tale
With love triumphant
While birds sing
bring me songs of simple bliss
I'm sick of something sweeter than this
I'll settle for the dredges at the bottom of my coffee cup
No need for excessive amounts of honey
I'd rather brace myself for the bitter than cover it up
So what's the purpose of money?
I mean really what does it do?
Besides turn me and you into simple creatures
I mean collecting shiny things, storing them for later
That's something the crows do
But even the crows know why they do it
They do it because they like shiny things
do you?
Do you love what you do?
Do you let it consume you?
I'd rather wake up under a bridge with a little chill in my bones
Then in a warm house that doesn't feel like home
So what about you?
Starting fires in a old coffee can, a gift from a friend you've never met
Not quite what you picture happiness to be?
Is it?
But sit down, pass that old sweater around

I'll tell you some story's

Some of the things I've seen even I don't believe
The magic of this city
It still gets to me
Subway tunnels are the damnedest things
People walking around in such close vasinity
Some of these people don't even look around
Have you ever admired the ridiculousness of it all?
What about that guy next to you?
Having troubles at home
Doesn't know if he can finish college
Not because he can't afford it
His trust fund has that settled
But he can't get that one girl in introduction to statistics to say hello
So he picks up his phone more often he used too
Just to look at it
What about the old man
The one all the kids on your block said was crazy
Have you ever seen evidence of those false claims?
Ever thought it was all just hear say?
Pass the message along

Life isn't about all the stuff we stockpile store for a later than never comes

So don't wait for life to hand you what you want you have to take it

go up and make your **** demands

Because this is not some fairy tale

This is not some song and dance

This is life and it'll knock you around

There's a few differences between me and who I want to be

I let it get to me, I fall down

And it takes me much longer to get back up than it should

But that's the key I get back up

I make a stand

I keep the crowd cheering in the bleachers

No matter how small they seem

Weather it's just God watching me, or my family

I'll keep it real

If reality keeps on keeping me

Who do you call when you've been robbed?
Not of your possesions...
but of your heart

You came in the middle of the night
and stole my breath with your lips
taking my heart along with it

in return you left my world a mess
and decaying memories in my vault
unlocked

I want you to come back
to give back my breath
and my heart

I feel my lungs ache
as if there is not enough air
for me without you

as if you are the last tree
and for my survival I must stay with you
I MUST

I want my heart back too
it's essential for me moving on
for me to forget you

There is nothing that I want to keep,
I want you to take all your memories,
And the pain you left with me.

I'm expressing my possesions
Trapped in other dimensions
Recreating realistic inventions
A suggestion?
I put out that "I have a question!"
Should I wait or give up before our world's perfection?
Why should I wait for mankind's progression?
I'm ready, I already dreamt the "inception....."

This is how you write a poem;
First; forget everything
You ever learnt about poems,

                                Such knowledge should be reserved
                                For the minds of critics, and
                                Professors in dusty halls

                                                          ­­           Of universities, where
                                                           ­          They are dissected and re-
                                                             ­        Constructed against their will.

Second; embroil yourself in
Love; it is the only thing
That poetry is born from.

                            Even the saddest songs, and
                            Most bitter lines, are fueled
                            By what we once loved. Loss is

                                                            J­­ust a love that has been lost
                                                            ­­And anger; a love scorned. All
                                                            y­­our words will be born this way.

Thirdly; find a quiet spot;
It doesn't matter much where
As long as it brings comfort,

                             Be it an old desk in a
                             Darkened room, or a field of
                             tall Sunflowers or bluebells,

                                                     ­ ­       Or the last place you saw a
                                                             Loved one, before fate swept them
                                                            ­­ Away to distant valleys.

Next you must make a promise to
Yourself to be brutally
Honest. Only the truth must

                              Be written here. There is no
                              Room for flowery words that
                              Must be thought over to much.

                                                          ­­   If it is true it will be
                                                             Beautiful, and your pen strokes
                                                         ­    Will guide you towards greatness.

Finally, you must hold your
Writing implement of choice
As if it were the most loved

                                 Of possesions, or mighty
                                 Of weapons, or a  child's hand.
                                 I cannot tell you which

                                                          ­­ But you will undoubtedly
                                                     ­      Know which when the time comes. It
                                                           Will strike you as obvious.

Upon following these steps
You will have become a
poet. From now on there

                                Is no turning back. It will
                                Consume you, and thoughts will take
                                You by surprise in lover's

                                                        ­­  Embraces, in sudden deaths,
                                                         ­ Bird songs, and the words of of those
                                                          Y­­ou once thought to be strangers.

Each word will be a gift to
The world, whilst remaining un-
doubtedly yours to own.

                                        Use your power wisely.
                                        Remember; without love
                                        Your poems will start to

                                                             ­        Fall into disrepair
                                                       ­              And, without them you will
                                                            ­­         Lose your capacity to care.

I wish you well.
                                    I wish you poetry.
                                                         ­      ­           I wish you love.

He passed a preacher in hazy,
Misty, London streets.
Whispering sermons
From cracked shoeless feet.
None would stoop to
Cast a passing ear,
To the words of a man
With nothing left to fear.

He told tales of love,
Tempered by the light of reality.
Love of money,
Love of greed
And all the objects of fiction
We imagine that we need.

"To each let it be known!"

"None of your possesions are yours to own!"

"Leased out for the duration of your time!"

"From house to car and from the body to the mind!"

The passers by barely noticed the guy
Who spoke from the heart
With the words of the wise.
The wisest words they would hear for weeks
Lost among the
Hazy, misty, London streets.

Objectual attachments to material things
cars and gold and shiney rings
The less you have, the more its apparent
that these possesions leave you incoherant
Unresponsive to change
comfy in ignorance
humans are quite strange
Externally subtracted
its a fatal attraction
Internally is where we thive
looking through the minds eye
Over and through
Im done with the lies
pluralized and despised
making money that makes you cry
When you dont have enough to get by
it can be really tough
trying to eat like a heath food nut
Real soul food is love and trust
and the persuit of Happyness
from a life lived with less.

New gold Casio watch,
Loosely hangs from my wrist.
It hits the bottle harder than I do,
Against my best wish.

Swish of whisky down my throat.
I've never been one to boast,
About newly bought possesions.
But this watch,
This gold Casio watch is the exception.

Im sitting in the sun,
soaking up all the sounds of all
the other number ones
running around
all over the ground
Tires spinning
Motors pound'n
Restlessly questless on a mission
to aquire worthless possesions
and proffessions
that educate
and fascilitate
a brainwashed race.

i've seen her beaten and broken
tears fall and words unspoken
each day hiding new cuts and bruises
always ready with a list of excuses
they've taught her well
her home became her hell
it doesn't get better, no way out
she listens to them scream and shout
and fists fly, stings against her skin
they say it's because she's full of sin
in school we all cast down our eyes, turned our heads
but thought of her while we were tucked warm in our beds
this sad hand that life had dealt
and no one knew just how she felt
and we all tried to pretend it away
what could we do, what could we say?
we seen it happen over and over again
but times were different then
a man's family was his own, his possesions
and no one would even think to question
why this little girl was always so sad, so scared
& hoping that maybe someone out there cared
when they found her black and blue
it was like we were waiting, we already knew
that help never came and she was gone
that sweet little girl who was left alone
i wonder now if the angels weep
for the child who sleeps?

It's been a long road without two of the most important males out of my life.
  
     Timothy: The precious baby taken too soon. I imagine you learning to walk in heaven, growing in a way I will never see. My god my heart hurts thinking about your sugar plum face smiling up at me. I want to watch you grow and flurish my angel boy, my little homie as well.

      Fredrick: Grandpa , Sarcastic little **** , and one of the best people i've ever known. I cry thinking about all you will miss of your families future. We all know family was on of your most prized possesions. God i wish you could have been there to aprove of my first boyfriend or to see me graduate. I miss you so ******* much it's tearing me apart.

she's falling down
at steps first stumble
toddlers bumps
a little egghead
learning curves
rough and tumble
she's falling down
from maypoles swing
bodies flung in air
the rush in the ring
flying free no care
she's falling down
sliding into base
jumping hurdles
and sheep
to win the race
she's falling down
the rabbit hole
tied to a tree
by a monster
childhood stolen
innocence broken
at 12 years old
no longer carefree
she's falling down
bending her mind
and space
trying to reclaim
in this world
sense of belonging
longing
to find her place
she's falling down
seeking love of
that one true other
crossing off each one
from the list
as just another lover
she's falling down
as monetary wealth
status
possesions
build up
still running on empty
is true loves cup
she's falling down
she's found him
to true love led
for too short a moment
her true love
suddenly at 21 dead
she's falling down
another monster
comes knocking
life's cruel jokes
leave her reeling
and rocking
she's falling down
as she gets up again
broken faith in man
has her not knowing
where to turn
she's falling down
another lover
one loved true dies
too young
heart bursting
with grief with sighs
nots furled tight in why's
she's falling down
married in love
never felt so safe
before
til she's crawling
the halls
spitting teeth on the floor
she's falling down
keeping it tight
to herself
resigned to the safety
of life on the shelf
she's falling down
been solitudinal
a long time
secure in loneliness
lost in her own rhyme
she's falling down
he's raising her up
loving care
sweet and tender
true communication
of love
fills up at last
true loves cup
she's pulling herself
back up.

© J.C. 25/09/2019.

Not to be brought about by possesions.
Though it looks like now no one understands.

Happiness lays in the trees, humming along as the leaves sway.
It forms in the sounds you hear distantly while you sit, and breathe.

Happiness comes to those who are open to it; not to those trying to force it.

If you're looking for a reason not to **** yourself tonight, this can be it.

Sometimes, we feel as if nothing matters.
We all do.
So i made a list of a few of my own reasons,
13 Reasons Why
I'm still alive.
And hopefully you'll change your mind.
Those moments you feel happy, and nothing but lucky.
And you wish nothing will ever change.
I will try my best.

Reason 8, Broken mirror
No one will ever make sure the clock stops ticking.
No one will ever keep a poem as one of their dearest possesions.
No one will ever leave the pages blank if they have words to fill it with.
No one will ever keep an extinguished cigarette in their package.
No one will ever stop being afraid of the dark, so we turn into the dark ourselves.
No one will ever keep an empty bottle of alcohol in their drawers.
No one will ever stop cutting themselves when they realise they shouldn't.
No one will ever keep the light on if they can choose to close their eyes.
No one will ever love without wondering why.
No one will ever keep a broken mirror in their pockets.
Or would you?

vermillion

Theres is a time where we
cannot lose anything anymore.
You leave this world as you enter it
without possesions or company.

my father said that
he was fifty nine then.
yet even the maple tree
had not lost a single leaf.
I wonder if that time
is here for me now.

yet not a single
leaf was vermillion.
He was fifty nine
when he said that.

No matter what we lose
all lost things
become the same.
There is a time when we
cannot lose anything anymore.
I wonder if that time
is here for me now.

I thought he would live forever
My mother his perfect companion.
Not knowing how fragile
are the roots of life.

There is time where we
cannot lose anything anymore.
outside the maple tree is bare
its leaves now a vermillion carpet

Do we
Live in a world that we didn't even choose
Utopia, Dysphoria, War Zone?
Or stay
Safe in a place that is nestled within a womb
Placenta, Myopia, Safe Home?
Or should we
Stay in a county with possesions we own
Dictator, Fabricator, Planes drone?
Can't speak
A language that was created by us unknown
Metaphorical, Native, Foul tongue?
Is there
A Universe that we by chance could exist
Uninvited, Alien, Pesty Guest?
Or would
A world of full of boundaries let me find
A Nation, Peace, Permanent home?

Waking up to the sounds of bombs exploding
Everyday I drown deeper in despair
Running from guns, carrying my possesions and I
Breathing in the cold poisonous air.


Trapped by authority
This is no place for a kid to grow
As I stand here in the rain
I start to draw a Rainbow.


Given the choice between death or sea
I leave the sandcastle I built to drown
We travel for hungry months
Our flashlights anticipating, wave after frown


As I step foot into my new life
Trauma dances around in my eyes
For every breath I take here
A person in my country dies.


I am a puzzle piece with endless corners
Humanity was stolen from me a long time ago
Therefore home will remain forever lost
So I draw another Rainbow.

Do you find yourself playing church
More often these days than not
Going through the motions
Only shaking hands with God

Working on your salvation
With religious bolts and stripped out screws
Saying I love you neighbor
But leaving out the Golden Rule

Climbing Jacob's ladder
In your multi-colored worldly coat
Holding tight to your possesions
As you hate to let them go

First in line on Sunday
Dutifully religiously
While every other day of the week
You fail to bend the knee

Your Bible always with you
On the dash or in the back
You hear Jesus loves you somewhere in there
But you're not sure of where that's at

You sing out loud in the crowd
Sometimes even raise your hands
But when they ask for volunteers
You struggle with the yes I can

You have a ton of secrets
At home hidden in a box
Letting them out when you're alone
Because you don't dare keep it locked
Afraid to give that one sin up

Do you find yourself playing church
More often these days than not
Going through the motions
Only shaking hands with God

Sun the figure of myfather, the ray of
light that holds my identity
the king who holds the key towards my destiny
where are you
where can i find you
I lack my true self, yet you mock me
why do you do this to me
why do you deprive me of my wills and possesions,
treasures of my personality and my whole being
I wish to follow your path
to enlighten myself
so that i myself can shine with you
but how can I
where do i begin
in all these years of darkness
i want to follow your path into the light
so bright yet i blow and explode in smokes and fire when i hold on for too long
burnt in the fires and depths of the sun
there lay my identity burning with passion
burning up in flames
oh how i long to grab hold of it
oh how i wish to identify with it
yet the It robs me of my identity
and the only way is to walk with it
the more i stray the more i loose myself
i am reminded to follow my being
for i cannot escape my true destiny
for it will only end in shadows
for i long and hope to regain my true conscousnes and walk the path towards true power and enlightenment
the path of light

My mind
In a constant spiral
Over him and
What he brings
To the checkered tablecloth
A jar of love
The king of wands
Heaven on ******
In the meadows
Full bloom when hes around
But hes constantly out of sight
Possesions include:
A fridge fully stalked
With toothpicks and paint cans
28+ half-read books
And me, if the fortuneteller
Proves Right
Signals from a flip phone
Love through powerlines
A memory
Of moments where
Red reaches tongue
Sticks play poker with my back
Bugs take over the throne
"I could live like this"
Or maybe I just don't want it to end
I wait for him
In uncomfortable chairs
Dressed in black leather
Oil on my hands
To slick to open the jar
Diamorphine gone rotten
Famine of song
Laying in a field
Of machinery and melancholy
Holy water
The presence
Of the 3rd state of matter
Black tulips look gorgeous on a screen
So does he.