Nothing Is Real… Strawberry Fields Forever
John Lennon & the gates of
Strawberry Field
Where he played
As a young boy…
(and still)
Nothing is real…
Strawberry Fields Forever.
Every year at this time
The hole
Where the spark of you
Was,
…it must be high or low,
Appearing
Like a cosmic holograph,
Zooming into view,
A thumbprint,
Touching &
Sailing into the sound
Of all that is
Going down.
Rockabilly blues overlap into
A new dimension
&
You, again, deliver us into…
(and still)
Nothing is real…
Strawberry Fields Forever.
Steering through,
Beyond,
Ornately fashioned
Gates of Perception…
Ah, Irish John of England,
Blake, Luddites and
Nell Gwyn,
Entering that space
Within your self,
Where
In your absence
You can always be.
Let me take you
down…
Cause I’m going to…
(and still)
Nothing is real…
Strawberry Fields Forever.
Lyrics to Strawberry Fields Forever: http://letras.com/the-beatles/186/
Strawberry Fields Forever by The Beatles video: http://vimeo.com/75657441
I had a friend in high school who would wear all black clothing, as well as sunglasses, walk beneath a black umbrella no matter the weather, and hitchhike at night. He laughed that he wanted to make people wonder whether they had actually seen somebody or not. We thumbed a ride a couple miles to a diner past the edge of town, with small jukeboxes on the counter, spending all our spare change playing Strawberry Fields Forever. He was, of course, in black, the small town atmosphere verging on confrontational, and the music, even though coming from tiny speakers, aiming rays of otherworldly colours and sensations into one’s mind. This song has never ceased to touch my sense of what might be mystical. I know I am not alone in missing John Lennon terribly.