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Poetry inspired by The Beatles for The Beatles Musical Extravaganza. |
Celebrating the magic of The Beatles. These entries are poems for "The Beatles Musical Extravaganza"  .
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| The photograph is simple: a young couple, early twenties perhaps, sitting in a booth at the diner of life. Sharing more than just coffee; sharing time, space, touch, community. The diner is long gone but the sentiments withstand and fifty years later, you're gone as well. You got your oats, Doris, and you got all of me. A long lifetime of togetherness now lives in a picture overlain atop what's left of me. In finding your way home I take comfort in knowing soon enough I'll be joining you at our never-ending table for you. We're going home. |
| You say revolution. I say you're full of shit. We are not the same. You call it freedom; I see it as limiting the rights of everyone who doesn't look like you or agree with your misinformation. You don't want a revolution. What you really want is a revolt against everything our Constitution has long granted us- all of us. You describe yourself as a patriot. What you really are is a coward, coerced into lying trying to save what little you think you have while punishing others for wanting the bare minimums of what we should be sharing. You don't understand that you're being manipulated into giving up more of yourself to satisfy an even bigger greed than yours. You're begging for chaos. We the people desire sanity, equality, and above all, peace. Again, we are not the same. |
| This feels like the first of many firsts after a lifetime of lasts and never-lastings. You gave my soul vertigo when I was fallin' for you and it feels like there ain't nothin' we can't do 'cept that one thing I tend to think about when I think about you and everything we've been through. I don't wanna do that thing where we fall apart and try to figure out that the pieces aren't a part of some other plan like another man, an imposter, man, doin' everything he can. You got me fallin' and I don't wanna land until forever and forever and forever and when I do you'll still be next to me. When we catch each other it'll be an ecstacy like neither one of us has seen. Let's live this dream like fiends, like a team. You and I fallin', fallin', you and me. |
| The billionaires are at it again. This one's going to Mars. This one's murdering for profit. And this one's going out his damn mind. What else is there to do when you don't want to be of use to anyone? Five boarded a submarine, built MacGyver-style out of chewing gum, banana peels, and baby chick nests. Operated by a video game controller, the yellow-themed vessel set off in search of artifacts from a larger failure, a much bigger nautical disaster. An hour and a half later terms like "we lost communication", "maritime incident", and "which one will we eat first" were being thrown around, much to the chagrin of all involved in the mission. Yellow can mean many things; on that day it stood for implosion, and they all went to heaven in a yellow submarine. |
| I never would've survived Beatlemania. Too many teenage girls screaming made-up words from their made-up mouths into my fed-up ears would've been my war, my WWII, and my Eiffel Tower would've been too small to host them all. And they would cry, calling me the rotten Eggman, the crabalocker fishwives, as I yolked them like the porno priestesses they aspired to be. For I am the rotten Eggman, and my long-grown face weary of my own made-up words would know goo goo g'joob is one corporate t-shirt too far for that bridge of my life. |
| Sometimes something catches my eye and refuses to leave me alone. In my thoughts it's the opposite of intrusive, random, and/or nagging. It's a call I'd die to answer; a song with no end. But I can't. I can't. It remains locked in a box just out of reach and always taunting me, tenderly. And my eyes, they fill with a brine of wonder and stuttering sighs. This thought knows. She knows. I believe, and how, and I don't want to leave, but I don't know how. |
| Day breaks. Heart aches. The city sleeps alone and awakens to the chaotic love everyone longs to share. I am fulfilling but unfulfilled. Catching stares. Reflected glares. Contentment only lasts for so long. I'm a sidewalk; you're a car. Do I want to play in this parade today? I'm not sure it even matters. Attentions span. Intentions wan. I crawl back into my bed knowing I did my best to be sociable, even if it isn't much. The city joins me in a rest nobody else can understand for I am for no one. I am only for me. |
| She's impossible. The world is at war and there she is. A bold sundress no border or boundary knows. She's alive in light, standing daintily, catching the breeze I exhale from a silent afar. I closed my eyes for three seconds of quiet, hopeful meditation. And there she goes, drifting, as if maybe I'll never see her again. |
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