8.12.20



December 8
              John Lennon was murdered in New York City 40 years ago

he might have remembered the date in his December 7 piece yesterday but John Lennon deserves to stand alone reaping 40 years later wha he sowed 
                                               Lennon sowed his interest in music creativity counterculture antiwar Peace & Love
Groovy man
             Thas right  Groovy
dated
perhaps 
         but dropping it was like dropping a hit of acid 


Lennon and Yokos bed-ins 
                             those moments secured a peace in him  a peace that he refuses to this day to be rattled

slasher filmsmurder films carried no weigh with him it puzzled him that they inspired sequels and how many people relished them his children did 
                                Aw, Dad, watch it with us!  No thank you  Id rather watch people fuck than be murdered

maybe Lennon had been the icing on the cake


40 years later he remembered him

he remembered his murderers name 
                                     but for the murderers desire to tie himself to history  to John Lennon  he wasnt going to grant him that

the piece of shit was released 10 September 2016 

Hmm  federal judge fucked up 
                                  if he couldnt release John Lennon from death then the asshole ought to have remained parked mouldering in some dark or brightlit corner of a facility 


40 years ago an audacious happyyellow flame was snuffed

1256,  Twosday,  8  12. 20


$287K -- Killed

              beyond this condemnation theres nothing more to say  Trump virus hasnt a Trump vaccine

1721,  Twosday,  8  21. 20

 


All thats left is the whining, bitch! 

1743,  Twosday,  8  12. 20
our latest one-term president


he sighedhe didnt exhale
                           one after another after another after another
he felt his head growing large like a balloon and he wondered how he didnt hyperventilatehis headhis lungs didnt blow up and frag and slash the hotel room he let by the week                                                                            

his mind grew blearyfaint 
                            somewhere inside him he wished he could maintain the haze the aimless riot  achieving what he usually did with drugs

who knew sorrow could abet himknew emotions were as chemical as a shot of whisky a snort of TCH a threefingered claw of psilocybin   

2001,  Monday,  7  12. 20