Tag Archives: john lennon

Sunday, 9 October 2011

A happy barthday, ol’ pal..


 

John Lennon: The Moldy Moldy Man
(In His Own Write, 1964)

I’m a moldy moldy man
I’m moldy thru and thru
I’m a moldy moldy man
You would not think it true.
I’m moldy till my eyeballs
I’m moldy til my toe
I will not dance I shyballs
I’m such a humble Joe.

dear john, a humble 71st birthday… we still miss you.

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Wednesday, 8 December 2010

Arf, Arf, He Goes, a Merry Sight


 i assume that most of you know what happened today – exactly thirty years ago. after celebrating john lennons 70th birthday in october, this year we also have to take into account that he is already gone for three decades now.
i will not say much about him and his death now – if youre interested in the historical details, visit wikipedia. if you want to read some pathetic obituary, visit some other site. lets just let the artist speak for himself, with one of his poems that i count among my very favourites. of course it is a sad poem, because december 8th is a sad day, about a dog who was decided to cease his happy and humble existence. it feels awkward to think about the bitter irony in this – the irony about who really was the dog, being put to sleep some 16 years later…

John Lennon: Good Dog Nigel
(In His Own Write, 1964)

Arf, Arf, he goes, a merry sight,
Our little hairy friend,
Arf, Arf, upon the lampost bright
Arfing round the bend.
Nice dog! Goo boy,
Waggie …

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Saturday, 9 October 2010

Happy Birthday, Large John Saliver…


 
everyone knows this guy, even people who perhaps havent heard of the beatles (how impossible that may ever seem) may have heard of john lennon. its his 70th birthday today (or would be, as everyone very well knows as well hes no longer with us), the birthday of a musician, a beatle of course, but also a rebel, a philosopher, artist, avantgardist, revolutionist, demolitionist, political critic, social critic, critic of everything, self-denier, egocentric, poet, writer, sound creator, song inventor, mad-mind and genius… just ask yourself: what can you think of that he wasnt?
he never really was the neat pop crooner that he appeared like when beatlemania began and the hearts of millions of little girls sighed for him. perhaps he never even really was a beatle, when his teenage hunger for rock n roll and freedom of mind, that first had driven him to music, once again pushed him forward to pursue – more. not only self-realization in a different kind than the beatles provided him, but turning his inside longing for peace within his mind to the outside, and together with his soulmate and second half protesting against war – in a non-violent way that …

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Sunday, 30 May 2010

John Lennon: Randolf’s Party (In His Own Write, 1964)


 time for some weird poetry again. i am sorry for being so quiet these days concerning the blog, but some things just didnt work out easily for me and im having a difficult time. but what could fit better into such a mood than a satirical, anarchical poem by dear john, who will be thirty years gone this year. though this poem is related to christmas and you – depending on where you live – might be enjoying a beautiful summertime right now, i thought i might post it because it might appeal to anyone feeling sad or lonely right now, or just to make one think; because, as always, johns poetry isnt only black humoured and disturbing, but has a deeper meaning behind it. in this poem it is the lesson that one has to learn, that your friends might not always be who you think they are. it is about false illusions, self-deception for the sake of ones own peace of mind and the loneliness of individuals left behind by society. those who lack knowledge of human nature, but are naive and idealistic about the ‘good in men’. i wont go on speculating if john wrote this in …

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Thursday, 4 February 2010

John Lennon: No Flies on Frank (In His Own Write, 1964)


 as i had been a little moody the past days, i thought it was time for some “dark” poetry again. but no, this is no melancholic heart-soother, this is bitter truth spiced by the kinky sarcasm that makes lennons poems and short stories so remarkable. no flies on frank sounds like a fake, exaggerated social drama, or a parody of such a thing, but it is more than that. it is a zany, black humored mirror to show us the ridiculousness of the things that annoy us or are important to us – at least we think they are. it shows the twisted, schizophrenic microcosmos in which everyone of us lives by himsels, up in his head, mostly unconsciously and perhaps with less dramatic consequences than in the case of frank. but that is just what john had felt he suffered from, and realized that all of us do, but seldomly notice. enjoy your trip through this mad, freudian analysis of an outwardly sick but in fact ordinary mind.

There were no flies on Frank that morning – after all why not? He was a responsible citizen with a wife and child, wasn’t he? It was a …

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Sunday, 20 December 2009

John Lennon: I Sat Belonely (In His Own Write, 1964)


 a little poetry for now, this is my favourite poem by john lennon. among those who are probably no real die-hard beatles fans there are not many who actually know that john had written two book with surreal poetry in 1964 and 65. most of the stories and poems in these books feature a black and cynical humour you would just expect from lennon as he appeared later on, but interestingly this was written in the high time of beatlemania already, when he still was the sonny-boy, little-girls-hero in public.

as i really love and appreciate johns literary works, i will post some more of his poems and short stories in the future, to try to give an insight into this fascinating, fairly underrated personality.

I sat belonely down a tree,
humbled fat and small.
A little lady sing to me
I couldn’t see at all.

I’m looking up and at the sky,
to find such wondrous voice.
Puzzle puzzle, wonder why,
I hear but have no choice.

“Speak up, come forth, you ravel me,”
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