Archives for posts with tag: Rock music

by Suzanne O’Connell

Once out of me mouth I just rolled into it.
I’ll never be an old man smoking and fighting.
I’ve been like this all me life.
Despised, blinking fits,
a complicated loser.
In a nutshell,
I was born on the concrete flats.
I was an offhand thought.

But now it’s all right.
It’s a new morning.
I’m no bullshit for once.
I used to expect too much.
Now it’s all about me.
Once out of me mouth, it’s secure.
Once I realized that
the bigger the pain,
the more god you look for,
I rolled into it.
Now, it’s all right.

SOURCE: “The Rolling Stone Interview: John Lennon, Part I” by Jann S. Wenner,  Rolling Stone  (January 21, 1971).

NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR: Why John Lennon? I have always felt he was a kindred spirit. Loved his music and who he was.


ABOUT THE AUTHOR: Suzanne O’Connell lives in Los Angeles, where she is a poet and a clinical social worker. Her work can be found in Forge, Atlanta Review, G.W. Review, Reed Magazine, Permafrost, Mas Tequila Review, The Round, The Griffin, Sanskrit, Foliate Oak, Talking River, Organs of Vision and Speech Literary Magazine, Willow Review, The Tower Journal, Thin Air Magazine, The Manhattanville Review, The Evansville Review, Serving House Journal, Schuylkill Valley Journal, and Licking River Review. She was a recipient of Willow Review’s annual award for 2014 for her poem “Purple Summers.” She is a member of Jack Grapes’ L.A. Poets and Writers Collective.

by Candace Butler

Never say the words “they’re gone,”
and they’ll come back.

I know you as a different person now:
an ex-lover leaving her reflection
in the mirror after she’s gone…

I’d never seen that before.

Sometimes it’s a curse,
but it’s also a blessing.

You have to remember:
these colors have soulmates
and once you get them all together,
the painting is complete.

I don’t believe in singles

Come to me.

I’m trying to get back to the old days.
I have time.
I have nothing but time.

SOURCE:  Spike Lee interview with Prince (then known as The Artist Formerly Known as Prince) in Interview Magazine (May 1997).

IMAGE: “Prince,” watercolor by Design Turnpike. Prints available at


ABOUT THE AUTHOR: Candace Butler is a writer, musician, and artist residing in her hometown of Sugar Grove, Virginia — a small town in the mountains of Appalachia. She is an MFA candidate in the Creative Writing Program at Antioch University of Los Angeles (AULA). Find more of her work at

Jefferson Airplane,  fronted by singer/songwriter Grace Slick, perform “White Rabbit” on The Smothers Brothers Comedy Hour (1967).

by Grace Slick 

One pill makes you larger
And one pill makes you small
And the ones that mother gives you
Don’t do anything at all
Go ask Alice
When she’s ten feet tall

And if you go chasing rabbits
And you know you’re going to fall
Tell them a hookah smoking caterpillar has given you the call
Call Alice
When she was just small

When the men on the chess board
get up and tell you where to go
And you just had some kind of mushroom
And your mind is moving slow
Go ask Alice
I think she’ll know

When logic and proportion
Have fallen sloppy dead
And the white knight is talking backwards
And the Red Queen’s “Off with her head!”
Remember what the dormouse said

Feed your head
Feed your head

SOURCE: “White Rabbit” appears on Jefferson Airplane’s 1967 album Surrealistic Pillow.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR: Grace Slick is an American singer, songwriter, artist, and former model, best known as one of the lead singers of the rock groups The Great Society, Jefferson Airplane, Jefferson Starship, and Starship, as well as for her work as a solo artist from the mid-1960s to the mid-1990s. Today, she works as a visual artist. Visit Grace Slick at her website.

by D.A. Pratt

If you listen to a certain song
by Simon and Garfunkel
you will hear several
of the months mentioned,
one after another, as the song
tells a story I know only too well:
it begins by saying in April come she will
and indeed she did, ever so refreshingly,
in a month when so much is promised
in so many ways . . . in May
everything blossomed beautifully
and she seemed ready to stay
in my arms far longer than I
could have ever dared to dream —
ah, that was the good part of our story
but, by listening to the song, you’ll know
what follows, that the good part
cannot possibly last and it didn’t for us,
like the song says, if I can put it this way . . .
I hope every remembered romance
has what we managed to have
in that memorable month of May —
but not the June, nor the July
and definitely not the August . . . I hope
for something better for everyone else . . .
As for me, I know I will linger over
those moments in May . . . when our love
was going so well and it seemed that it
wouldn’t ever end, even though, somehow,
we knew it had to die, as the song says it must . . .
Someday, in my never-ending September,
I’ll remember having a love once new,
having known her, having loved her,
even if only so fleetingly, in a magical month
we like to call May . . .

PAINTING: “The Kiss” (1909) by Gustav Klimt (1862-1918).


ABOUT THE AUTHOR: D.A. (David) Pratt lives in Regina, Saskatchewan, Canada. This “May” poem is inspired by a song by Simon and Garfunkel, his all-time favourite musicians. In 2013, his short prose piece “Encountering Bukowski—Some Canadian Notes” appeared in Bukowski: An Anthology of Poetry & Prose About Charles Bukowski published by Silver Birch Press and his essay entitled “The Five Henry Millers” appeared in the tenth annual issue of Nexus: The International Henry Miller Journal.

NOTES FROM THE AUTHOR: In responding to the call for poems mentioning the month of May, I immediately thought of the song “April Come She Will” by Simon and Garfunkel, knowing that it mentions May . . . I hope the resulting poem honours the song while being, at the same time, an original creation about an imagined romance with one of my imagined muses . . .

We’re celebrating all things May during the month of May — and how can we forget Mae West (1893-1980)? Here is the inimitable Ms. West singing the Doors‘ hit “Light My Fire,” from an album called Great Balls of Fire (MGM Records, 1972), available at

On May 24, 2003, Paul McCartney makes his first visit to the Soviet Union, and performs his greatest hits, including “Maybe I’m Amazed,” for over 100,000 people at Red Square in Moscow — moving even grown men to tears. This clip is from McCartney Live in Red Square (2003), available at

ABOUT THE CONCERT: For the Russian audience, McCartney’s appearance in Moscow is little short of a miracle. The Beatles were banned for decades by the Soviet government, which regarded their music as the epitome of Western decadence and propaganda, and the fans’ only access to the group was through the occasional black market album. Their reaction to his 2003 visit is a mixture of frenzy and rapture. In interview after interview, what one fan calls the Beatles’ “gentle intervention” is credited with helping to bring down the whole Soviet system, simply because they represented a creativity and freedom that had been almost totally silenced.

by John Lennon 

Words are flowing out like endless rain into a paper cup,
They slither while they pass, they slip away across the universe
Pools of sorrow, waves of joy are drifting through my open mind,
Possessing and caressing me.
Jai guru deva om
Nothing’s gonna change my world. Nothing’s gonna change my world.
Nothing’s gonna change my world. Nothing’s gonna change my world.

Images of broken light which dance before me like a million eyes,
They call me on and on across the universe,
Thoughts meander like a restless wind inside a letterbox they
Tumble blindly as they make their way
Across the universe
Jai guru deva om
Nothing’s gonna change my world. Nothing’s gonna change my world.
Nothing’s gonna change my world. Nothing’s gonna change my world.

Sounds of laughter shades of life are ringing
Through my open ears inciting and inviting me
Limitless undying love which shines around me like a
Million suns, and calls me on and on
Across the universe
Jai guru deva om
Nothing’s gonna change my world. Nothing’s gonna change my world.
Nothing’s gonna change my world. Nothing’s gonna change my world.

MORE: Listen to the song at

NOTES ON THE SONG: “Across the Universe” is a song recorded by the Beatles. It was written by John Lennon, and credited to Lennon–McCartney. The song first appeared on the various artists charity compilation album No One’s Gonna Change Our World in December 1969, and later, in different form, on Let It Be, the group’s final released album. (Read more at

by John Lennon

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 wonderous voice.
Puzzly, puzzle, wonder why,
I hear but I have no choice.

‘Speak up, come forth, you ravel me’,
I potty menthol shout.
‘I know you hiddy by this tree’.
But still she won’t come out.

Such sofly singing lulled me sleep,
an hour or two or so
I wakeny slow and took a peep
and still no lady show.

Then suddy on a little twig
I thought I see a sight,
A tiny little tiny pig,
that sing with all it’s might

’I thought you were a lady’,
I giggle, — well I may,
To my surprise the lady,
got up — and flew away.

PHOTO: In 1964, John Lennon holds his just-released book In His Own Write while Paul McCartney, George Harrison, and Ringo Starr read over his shoulders.

SOURCE: “I Sat Belonely” appears in the 1964 release In His Own Write by John Lennon — a collection of poetry, stories, and drawings. Much of the work was inspired by Lewis Carroll‘s nonsensical poetry in Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland, particularly “The Jabberwocky” (included below).

by Lewis Carroll

’Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.

“Beware the Jabberwock, my son!
The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!
Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun
The frumious Bandersnatch!”

He took his vorpal sword in hand;
Long time the manxome foe he sought—
So rested he by the Tumtum tree
And stood awhile in thought.

And, as in uffish thought he stood,
The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame,
Came whiffling through the tulgey wood,
And burbled as it came!

One, two! One, two! And through and through
The vorpal blade went snicker-snack!
He left it dead, and with its head
He went galumphing back.

“And hast thou slain the Jabberwock?
Come to my arms, my beamish boy!
O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!”
He chortled in his joy.

’Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.


“I’ve been imitated so well I’ve heard people copy my mistakes.”


by David Bowie

The tactful cactus by your window
Surveys the prairie of your room
Mobile spins to its collision
Clara puts her head between her paws
They’ve opened shops down West side
Will all the cacti find a home
But the key to the city
Is in the sun that pins the branches to the sky 

Photo: “Cactus on Windowsill” by Jenelopy, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED