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John and Yoko, or (Lennon's Last Hit Is the Life I Lead)

For Me #VocalVPN

It was fabulous 

In the beginning 

Only there was

One instead of four

So to pass through 

The threshold of hell

I had been summoned 

To pay a fee

It's only right 

Nothing is for free 

So as I take 

The numerical steps 

Of my birth month 

A day at a time 

In my own personal 

Gerald's wife scenario (fee included) 



to reach rock bottom 

For contemplation in

The corner of 

A subway car

Fate SEALed

A pray for the dying 

But as normal 

One can't win

 the lottery 

So dismal decisions 

That disrupt

The nervous system 


The instability 

Of a past. 

One outta three 

Cost time

Or money

Nah it's a Deion thing


As lifelines 

So long disregarded


I know 

I'm not ready yet

For that.  

It doesn't get any harder 

Than this right now 

It's all up hill 

Once again the gloomy 

Battleship of a sky

At war 

With a destructive 

Time continuum 

Has the odds on favorite 

To leave blue skies 

Lies for a legacy 

Long ago lost 

But only recently found 

The parabalistic analogies 

Of what one sees

And perceives

Put in paragraphs

Past post modern


In self code 

For either intellectuals

Or psychotherapists

To decipher 

And as still 

The Phoenix tries

To ignite it's

Flaming phantasm 

Of a figure 

To spread it's wings

And soar 


As it once did

Many moons

Of madness

Must be analyzed 

On the couch 

You lie on

Standing up 


GW's place 

Only has a foundation 

In the mind 

Of the messenger. 

Could this be the culmination

Of a lifetime of indecision 

Deciding to make a choice 


Instead of the 


A return

 with John singing in the background 

The vapors of substance grown and made gives the biological equivalent of shock therapy especially when trying to withdraw,  but being blessed bestows both a confidence and a fear of finally achieving destiny.  Wanting to be on stage is something most people dream of,  only not on a subway platform. What a coming out of it party. The wreckless ride through the rough rapids of reality.  Keeping it in solitude, confidence except for the accomplices and some with perception is why past failure existed. A change of program may maintain a mistake proof possibility this time. You can only go to the well so many times before you're drinking mud.  110 reasons is the fee negotiated on by D. I.,  although the patient wasn't told until after treatment started. NO REFUNDS.  an assisting analyst might be called in, if deemed necessary.  Sometimes one babbles a lot on the stand up couch so switching from both patient, and physician, to just patient is understandable.  The complex psychodrama of this delicate dilemma is reminiscent of a lightning crash.  The confusion sets in.  Ever see Flatliners, no where to go but up.  And John is still singing. 

Repeated resurrections doesn't make the process any easier but noticeable returns of an aura emanating can be felt by receptive empaths. Last stabs at darkness are okay, because the hook brings you back.  The radio plays your life as you try to make all the pieces fit outside-in, downside-up, left-side right jigsaw puzzle.  Some skill is required.  An oasis, mental, in the middle of the city through airwaves sedates the seemingly impossible task of turning around transgressions instead of repeatedly running into a Wonderwall. As the flame of Phoenix starts to find an ember, and alpha, omega, and infinity collide, the catalyst of consciousness starts reparations of the rainbow an empire to build a futuristic paradise. And John's still singing.  

Honesty. Sobriety is a diet we don't want to conquer.  It's easier to carry the weight.  Remember only death stopped John from singing. 

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John and Yoko, or (Lennon's Last Hit Is the Life I Lead)
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